I'm halfway through two weeks of self-inflicted scheduling madness. I'm taking an afterschool class that totals four, three-hour sessions between last week and this. (Sounded like a good idea when I signed up...) It's a good class, and I'll have a website for my little music program up and running by Thursday. But three hours after a whole day at school makes for a very long day. At least I'm not teaching it, and it's still light out when I get home.
Taking this class means I had to reschedule my Thursday lessons, which makes Wendesday longer, and two lessons on Friday. I NEVER teach privately on Fridays. Until now, obviously, and while I do love the two kids who come then, it mostly reminds me why I NEVER teach privately on Fridays.
I did manage to have some fun, too; one of our high schools staged the musical "Titanic" this weekend. Have to admit, it isn't my favorite show. First of all, everyone knows how it ends. It isn't a stage adaptation of the blockbuster movie. (That's not necessarily a bad thing.) But it also doesn't have A Story, it seems. There are several little stories threading through the impending disaster, but until the ship begins to sink, they are fully independent of each other. That could be the point, I imagine-pointing out the class differences we impose on each other, ones that disappear when Reality rears its ugly head. But I didn't like it; in a musical, I don't particularly care to puzzle out the intentions of the writers. It also doesn't have A Song that you would remember. Even Les Miserables, dark and difficult as that one is, has memorable tunes.
But several past students, many of them seniors, were in the cast, and it's always a joy to see just how many of them have continued on with some sort of musical/dramatic efforts. I of course had to remind two of my favorites that they got their starts at our elementary school, in the epic production of "The Granny Awards." I have to admit, getting a double hug from two guys who remember their little music teacher so fondly rather made my night. Another young lady was so surprised and pleased when I told her how proud I was of her (I'm sure she didn't think I'd remember her), and a fourth stole the show. Yet another was sort of the diva she was even when I had her, but that's OK. I can see her going on in theatre, and you need a fair amount of attitude to make it in the business.
Last night another bunch of friends and I went to see Eileen Ivers and Immigrant Soul. Oh. My. Goodness. Hands down, one of the best concerts I've been to. Eileen Ivers is a genius, her band mates are geniuses, and they all so obviously love what they're doing that it's infectious. And you feel like if you invited her over to your place for a beer on the porch after the show, she'd do her best to be there. I think I have to check out their tour schedule and start following them around.
I've managed to pack four whole boxes, take a bunch of stuff to the Salvo, the book sale, and the consignment store. I'm working my way through the freezer and the dry goods. Even if I wasn't moving, these would be good things to do. I like knowing that my stuff is being used as it was intended, whether I'm the one making cookies with it, or someone else gets a new spring outfit from what I donated. Maybe someone will find one of my books at the library sale and it'll be just the one he was looking for. I have very few things in my possession that are just for show, and I don't collect for the sake of collecting. Yet somehow in the last year, I managed to accumulate a bunch of Stuff, and now it's time to move it along.
So until next week, as Dory said in that delightful little movie, we just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming swimming...