Her Green Figs

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.

29 January 2006


Tonight the Choir, the Philharmonic (a few of them, anyway), and four soloists performed the Mozart Requiem (Levin edition). It went reasonably well, although lacking some in energy. On the way off "stage" our conductor congratulated every choir member except me. I was last out, but I'm still pretty sure it was a delibereate snub. What's that about, I wonder? I work really hard to learn the music, I have a lovely voice and decent technique, I make no major gaffes, I try to stay out of his way... I wonder what I've done that was so awful. I'm really quite hurt. So here I am at home, instead of at the "cast party" at the conductor's house. I was trepidatious about going to the party anyway--no date, not knowing/liking the core crowd of conductor's favorites who will certainly be at the party, uncomfortable at not being one of the best in the choir, etc. I can hardly say how much I would like to have felt really good about my performance, to get a kiss from my sweetheart after, and to go to the party and enjoy myself with people I like and who like me. While I'm being whistful, it would be nice to also be devastatingly gorgeous and successful too.