A Very Vegas Adventure

One of the things that I was most looking forward to during Christmas break was our family vacation to Las Vegas.  Mom had been planning it for weeks and weeks, and neither Stacey nor I had been there before.  At first, we weren't excited to have our first trips to Vegas with our parents, because one can't get quite as crazy with the parents around, but as the trip got closer and closer and the details became more clear, we got more excited.

It was our first family vacation in years.

We were scheduled to leave on January 1st from Fargo, arriving in Vegas in the late evening, then returning to the Northland on the 4th.  The flight to Vegas was one of the most amusing (and annoying) parts of the trip.  The kids next to us were from Canada, and were headed to Vegas to have a good time.  If their attitude on the plane was any indication of the rest of their trip, they would succeed.  During they flight, they drank a lot, and were fortunate enough to win a little lottery during the flight.  Their excitement, unfortunately, was a little annoying to us mellow people, but it was fine.

We landed, were shuttled to the hotel, and were met by interesting hotel issues.  They hadn't cleaned our rooms yet (yes, at 10:00 pm), due to New Year's Eve being the night before.  Because of their error we got 2 queen-sized rooms on like the 35th floor.  It was the older part of the hotel, where the famous people used to stay before they added the new wing.  The paint was fantastic, the bathrooms were amazing, and the beds were beyond great.  The only bad part was the lack of a view, but we survived.

We were all hungry and itching to gamble, so after settling into our rooms without a view, we grabbed a late, late dinner and set out on the playing floor for a bit.  We were all exhausted.  Stacey and I managed to get to bed before Mom and Dad, but not long after they went to bed, we received sad news.  I don't want to go into details here, because there may be a blog on this topic later, if I can write it.  

The news that my Grandpa had died, although not a surprise, was still difficult, and issues surrounding his death had us changing our vacation plans.  We would have to leave Vegas earlier than intended, but did our best to enjoy ourselves while we were there.

That day, we walked a lot, and even ran into those kids who sat beside us on the plane.  We saw the fountains at the Bellagio and gambled and gambled and watched people take pictures with homeless people (probably the true low point of the trip).  If there could be a high point, it was definitely this:

 A lifelong Gwinner-ite had moved to Vegas, but was at home in Gwinner for a large bit of time around Christmas.  He had been raving about this place called "Bill's," which served really cheap steak and eggs or something after midnight, and Mom was determined that we go there.  So before we headed to the Venetian for the Blue Man Group, we sought out to find Bill's.  Finding Bill's was not hard, nor was finding a restaurant in Bill's.  

We walked up to the first restaurant we saw, and had enough time to literally glance at the menu on the wall before a hostess came out and said, "Four?"  Now, please let me say that our first hint that this was not the place that we wanted to be was the fact that she was wearing a red dress with tassels, a la the Old West.  We didn't take the hint, though.  

We were escorted into the place, and knew immediately that this was not the place for us.  The waiters were all in full-length coats, the walls were all covered in mirrors and red velvet, and the chairs (which were pulled out and pushed back in for us as we sat) were all high-backed and upholstered.  The table was set for a fine meal, with 3 forks, several glasses, and fabric napkins, which were laid upon our laps for us.  

We felt a little awkward in our jeans, casual shirts, and fall jackets.

As the waiter took our drink orders, we slowly took in our surroundings and the menu.  Mom and Dad each ordered a whiskey drink, and the waiter ran off to get them.  When we looked at the menu and saw that the least expensive item, a plate of pasta, was $20, we debated whether to stay or to go.  And if we decided to go, how does one leave such a place tactfully?  

We decided there was no tactful way, but that we had to leave in order to save our sanity and a little money.  Small-town folk really don't belong in a place like that.  Our waiter was taking a while to get our drinks, so we told the man who was filling our glasses with water that we were leaving.  He gave us the evil eye, and told our waiter, who came.  My mom's words to him were, "I'm sorry, but we've made a mistake."  Mistake.  Yeah, a big mistake.

He begrudgingly brought our ticket, the one with 2 whiskey drinks on it.  Our total was near $20.  Not kidding.  For 2 drinks.  We left money for him and escaped out the front door, leaving our dignity behind us.  

Never before I have I been so embarrassed, yet so entertained.  Ever.  

We walked around a corner to the place with the cheap steak and eggs, and enjoyed meals of chicken strips and kung pao chicken, then headed to see Blue Man Group, which was entertaining, but not as entertaining as our adventure in Bill's.

When we returned to the hotel, we stayed awake as long as possible, until we had to be at the airport at 5:00.  We headed home a day early, but enjoyed our time nonetheless.

Car Woes... Big City Initiation

Well, I've been very fortunate thus far in my adventures in CO, and haven't had any major run-ins with law enforcement or other scary folks like that.

Until last week.

And last week was a doozy.

I commute (and hate it).  This is no secret.  Every day, I leave an hour before my first class in order to brave traffic, find a parking spot, and walk the quarter mile or so to get to class on time.  Every day, I park on 18th street, and every day I have no problems.  

I did the usual last Wednesday, but when I went to my car in the afternoon, it wasn't there.  I was on the phone with my mom, and was secretly freaking out, but didn't want her to know, just in case I was freaking out for no reason.  

I wasn't freaking out for no reason.  After some research involving several phone calls and internet searches, I found my car at a local towing place  I had (apparently) parked right in front of someone's driveway.  Now, why or how I could possibly have done that, I don't know.  But there are apparently pictures to prove it.  I don't know if I turned my brain off completely, or if I just am dumb, or what happened, but it happened.  

After locating my car, I had to go to the Boulder PD to get a release.  From there, I had to go to the place to get my car.  $108 later, I was driving away, (un)happy as a clam.

Then, to top things off, on Saturday night, I drove to Boulder for my friend Jackie's senior recital.  It was snowy and I was running a little late, so I was in a hurry.  After arriving in Boulder, I came across a stoplight.  It turned yellow, and I tried to slow down, but failed miserably on the snow-packed, icy roads.  When I finally stopped, I was over halfway through the intersection and the light turned red.  Then, I saw the camera on the stoplight take a picture of my car.

Needless to say, I was not pleased.  It was most definitely not my fault.  At all.  I don't know how exactly they'll get my ticket to me, but I plan to be preemptive and head over to the PD this week to see the process and defend my case.

All of this sucks.  A lot.  I'm trying to view it as a way of welcoming tme to city life.  

I'd rather not have been initiated.

Repetition

This happens to me all of the time: Something will happen, or be mentioned, or will come up once, and suddenly, it pervades my life.  Does this happen to everyone else or am I crazy?

That's happening with me lately.  With two things: curling and emoting.

Yes, curling.  Admittedly, this is silly.  But true.  Obviously, it's because of the Olympics that it's all anyone is talking about.  Especially the fact that a woman who is pregnant is competing in the sport.  I try to defend it, saying it's SO fun, but alas, no one believes me.  And there is no curling rink anywhere near to prove it to them.

In all seriousness, though, the other frequently-occurring theme in my life is the idea of emoting while singing.  Sounds easy, right?  Just act in accordance with what you're singing, right?  Maybe for some it's easy, but I'm struggling lately, and I don't think I'm the only one.  

The more I think about it, the more ashamed I am that I'm having problems in this area.  I started acting when I was in elementary school, and won awards all the way through high school for roles in one-act plays.  I was in 3 musicals at Jamestown and was cast in a 2 one-act plays while there, too.  I obviously am physically capable of acting. 

But what's preventing me now?  I have some ideas, which may be important, but I'm going to choose not to include them here.  The fact of the matter is that it's just not happening, and it's quite frustrating.  In the past few weeks, I can't even count how many times this subject has come up for me and others, which makes it stand out even more in my mind.  I've seen it in other people's lessons, movies, and am taking a class in which we have focused on the subject for literally a month now.  Maybe more than a month.

The point of this is that I'm working on it.  Hopefully, the next time you all see me perform (which I hope will be sooner rather than later), I will have improved.  Let's hope.

Dense

On occasion, I have been known to be a little thick-headed.  In fact, one of my closest friends in high school used to say, "You're the stupidest smart person I know." 

Now, not to say that I really am stupid, but I recently became aware that I wasn't aware of what some people might be thinking of my blog...  But I might be wrong.

A friend of mine (who is a loyal reader of the blog) lives in Denver and came up to Boulder on Thursday to see me sing in the Anderson competition.  After the competition was over, we went to Old Chicago to have a drink to celebrate my having won one of the scholarships.  While there, he made a comment that I think was meant as a joke, but I interpreted it as one of those jokes with an ounce (or more) of truth.

Basically, he implied that the blog was a source for me to brag about my accomplishments.  I only had to think about it for 2 seconds before I realized that anyone who reads my blog could definitely get that impression, and I didn't even realize it or think about it that way.

Let me put it this way, kids.  I've been amazingly fortunate since having come to CO.  Things have been working out for me in ways that are way better than I ever could have expected, and I love sharing the news.  I've been lucky not to have many bad occurrences to relate to you, and really hope that that stays the same.

But in the future, I'll watch my tongue! :)

 

Anderson

I know that it seems like a random name for a blog, but really it isn't.

I don't know who the Andersons are (were?), or what they do (did?), or what their connection to the music school is (was?), but they donated a lot of money to the College of Music.  There are a lot of Anderson scholarships given out every year.  A lot.  I don't know how many.  

Okay, I'm basically uninformed, in case you didn't notice.  But not completely.  Let me tell you what I do know.  

The non-voice departments give out their Anderson scholarships in some way that doesn't involve a competition (which I don't know).  The voice department, though, gives out their three $2,000 scholarships by means of a competition.  

Last Thursday, 15 or so of us competed in the preliminary round, which was judged by CU Voice faculty.  Seven of us, including me and Kenny, were selected to continue on to the Finals, which are tonight, judged by people from the outside.  And 3 of us will walk out with $2000 in scholarship money.

I'm pretty excited to have been chosen for the finals.  The only bad part of the whole deal is that it's formal.  Very formal.  For the participants, that is.  It left me a week to buy a dress, find jewelry, shoes, hairstylist, etc.  Yeah, I didn't go through all of that, actually.  

I feel like a bride.  You know: something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue?  Well, I did buy a dress (thank goodness for credit cards and having multiple occasions to wear it), I'm wearing an oldish pair of shoes that I own, I borrowed some pretty spectacular earrings, and... well, I don't have anything blue.  And I'm doing my own hair.

In any case, I'm performing first, singing the same Schubert that I sang for my studio placement audition, as well as a piece by Amy Beach, which I sang for opera auditions.  Kenny's performing second.  

I'll let you know how it goes.  Wish us luck!

Tian Hao Jiang

I know what you're thinking. 

No, I do not have a new Chinese boyfriend.

Unfortunately.

This blog, however, is about a Chinese man. 

I already tried to write this blog once, but couldn't make it sound as amazing as it was.

Know this: I cried throughout the whole performance and was very strongly influenced by this Chinese man's story and show.

There is nothing else to say.

Famous?

Okay, really no time to write a real blog here, but I thought you all might enjoy this.  

If you watched American Idol tonight, you would have seen this guy.  He's famous around CU, not necessarily all for good.  I think he deserves a little more credit than he gets sometimes, but not all the time!

Please keep in mind that he isn't a true representative of music at CU, and this isn't what all of my friends are like.

Please ignore the fact that this is poorly formatted.

Lock 'er down!!! (or something...)

At North Sargent High School in Gwinner, North Dakota, the high school hallway is lined with bright red, floor-to-ceiling lockers.  Every student in grades 7-12 is assigned one.  An outsider can tell the age of a student based on where his/her locker is, because locker location is determined by class year.  It's kind of ironic that as kids get closer to graduation, their lockers are closer to the high school exit doors...  

Now, way back when I was in high school, the cool kids jammed their lockers so that they wouldn't have to put in their combination every time they wanted to open their lockers.  Although it was really to save time, it wasn't really necessary. With 4 minutes between classes and the farthest class being 10 feet away, time really wasn't an issue.  Even with lockers jammed, it was rare that something was stolen.  I kept mine locked, anyway.

At Jamestown College, there were no lockers.  I didn't even consider it as an option, actually.  Campus is really small, and something like 85% of students live on campus, so it's not a necessity.  I always carried all of my books around in my backpack, and never considered it strange.

Something that really surprised me when I came to CU was that The College of Music offers lockers to students.  It makes sense, really, because people don't want to lug around a huge double bass or guitars everywhere they go.  When I was given the option to get one, though, I never even considered it.  It seemed weird to me that students would keep their books in their lockers.  Or their coats, or what have you.  Plus, I lived on campus, so it was easy for me to go back and forth.

Now, I live in Broomfield, and the number of bags that I was carrying with me to and from school every day was ranging from 2-3.  My back was wanting to kill me.  However, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I have a locker now.  And it rocks.  No more carrying 50000 pounds on my back all day, every day!  And I have a place to store my coat.  And... it's just unbelievable convenient.

Yay for reversion to high school!

Confidence

When I was in junior high and high school, if you would have asked any of my friends or acquaintances to pick one word to describe me, I can almost guarantee you that one of the words that they wouldn't have picked would be "confident."  In the very least, I know that it wouldn't be one of the words that I would have used to describe myself.

That began to change in college, as I slowly came out of the woodwork. My freshman year, I was quiet and shy, especially around people who I didn't know.  As I joined more and more organizations and met more people, though, I slowly became more sure of myself.  By my senior year I was a member of many, many organizations, and within many of those I was elected by my peers into leadership positions where confidence was a must.  At that point in my life, I maybe would have called myself confident.  Or at least a little confident.

When I moved to Colorado, I took the attitude of "the new girl."  I'm not sure where I read about it, but the concept made perfect sense to me.  A lot of people are nervous, and therefore reserved when they are in new situations.  That would totally have been me if I wouldn't have made the conscious decision to do exactly the opposite.  As the new girl, I never said no to an invitation, unless I absolutely had to.  I did my best to put on a smiling face and to show a likable personality.  I didn't want to put out an air of being closed off or stuck-up.  Basically, I wanted to be liked.

I know how this will sound, but I don't mean it in an egotistical way.  My strategies worked.  It took little time for me to make a little group of friends.  If you'll recall, on our first night out, Kenny called me a "fag hag" because I had a big personality and appeared confident.  One of my friends is continually telling me about how he finds how "popular" I am to be amazing, considering how new that I am.  A guy who I hardly know came up to me one day and told me that he had been observing me and noticed that people "flock" to me when I'm hanging around.  However, the most obvious showing of my confidence happened last week, when I entered the world of a 20th century woman and asked a boy on a date!  It's been very exciting, and shocking, actually. 

While all of this has obviously been happening, I haven't really been aware of it.  Aside from my conscious efforts at making friends, I didn't know that I was gaining confidence.  It took people pointing it out to me for me to fully recognize it.  I still don't feel like I outwardly act different, but maybe I do...

In any case, the idea of me being confident was questioned during my auditions last week (the ones I told you about here).  A few days before the auditions, we had mock auditions in Opera Theatre class.  They were intended to be a leg-up for those taking the class (obviously, they didn't help me).  Following the mock audition, Dr. Holman sat each of us down for feedback.

Among the things that she told me that were very useful, things like wearing a dress in a solid color, using stage-ish make-up, and choosing heels, her words to me were along these lines: "I feel like your MO in life is to come into a room with what appears to be a lack of confidence, and then to the heck out of everyone with your voice."

Needless to say, with my newly-realized confidence, I was surprised at these comments.  I assured her that I wasn't aware of her perception of my level of confidence because I really wasn't confident in my early years, and that me being confident was something new to me and had changed recently.  I also told her that I feared coming off as overly-confident (and unwarrantedly so), but that I would work on it.

So, kids.  What do you think?  Am I confident enough?  Do I need to work on it?  What's the deal here?

Remember This?

Okay, in case you doubted when I said it before (in this blog), you cannot doubt anymore.  It's a statistical FACT.  North Dakotans are nice.

During my 14-hour trip back to CO from ND, a few important things happened to me.  Not life-altering, but important.

• I had a lot of time to think.
• I was carrying 60 pounds of beef in my trunk.

The first one is obvious, right?  I mean, 14 hours, in a car, by myself, in the middle of nowhere.  What else is there to do, aside from lots of texting, phone calls to people one hasn't talked to in a long time, and jamming out to any radio station one can possibly find (because there aren't many out there).

I had a lot to think about.  As you probably read here, I had a lot going on over Christmas break, and was so torn over how to write blogs about my experiences that I even considered not writing the blog anymore at all.  I kept trying to come up with topics to write about and how to phrase them, but no matter what I thought, nothing sounded appropriate. 

Then, I had to stop near Fort Collins to drop off 30 pounds of beef to someone I'd never even met.

Now, you're all asking yourselves, "What in the world?  Why is 60 pounds of beef important?"  My first reply would be, "Well, everyone needs to eat to survive."  My second reply would be, "Because it allowed me to have a very interesting conversation with a man who, like me, values the niceties of North Dakotans.

The man who received half of the beef in my trunk is the nephew of my next-door neighbor.  He grew up in ND and stayed there until he was in his mid-20's.  We had a short discussion (over beef) concerning living in ND vs. CO, and swapped stories of nice North Dakotans and mean Coloradans.  I shouldn't say mean, but let's face it: they aren't as friendly as us North Dakotans.

The conversation was significant enough at the time that I planned on writing a whole blog strictly about it.  I didn't have time, and have lost a lot of the details since, so nothing came of it, obviously.  But that conversation was a topic I could finally find the words for, and it helped me to keep writing.

Then, nearly a week later, a Coloradan surprised me in the simplest manner.  He made my day, actually.  I was walking from my car to campus (I still park off-campus to save money), and passed a construction site.  As I passed this random construction man on the sidewalk, he said good morning.  I returned the greeting and haven't seen him since.

Anyway...  I tell you all that in order to get back to the point of the blog.  If you had doubts about my gross generalization about the character of North Dakotans before, you can't anymore, for this reason: On my way to school this morning, I was listening to a radio station that I don't typically listen to.  One of the female broadcasters had just come back from a cruise to Jamaica.  She said something with what is stereotypically called a "North Dakotan accent."  Her fellow broadcasters made fun of her incessantly for it, and they were making jokes about Fargo.  You know, the usual... 

Then, the lady said something like this, "Well, you know there is something else that makes the Jamaicans and North Dakotans similar."  Her coworkers said, "Oh, yeah?  What's that?"  She replied, "Well, they're just so darn friendly."

So there you have it, folks.  Undeniable proof that North Dakotans are friendly.  In case you didn't already know.

Disappointment

Last fall, when CU was auditioning for chorus members for "La Traviata," I chose not to audition.  My name was on the audition list, I had a piece prepared to sing, and I had no doubt in my mind that I would be in the show.

Then I changed my mind.  At that point in my life, I had never once seen a live opera, and really wanted to see one before performing in one.  I crossed my name off the audition list, and never thought anything of it.

In the meantime, many of my newly-made friends auditioned and received chorus member parts.  Rehearsals were Mondays and Thursdays, and many of them would go out to eat in Boulder those nights, between school and rehearsal.  I took advantage of the invitation to go and went out with them, although I think I only actually ate with them once.  The rest of the time, I just enjoyed the company. It was a good time, and a good way for me to meet people, and it got me into the CU opera scene without being in the opera.  I didn't envy their weekly rehearsals or having to experience what is pleasantly termed "hell week."

What I did enjoy, though, was seeing my first ever opera.  I saw it on opening night with Jettie and Austin (read about Jettie's trip here and here), and adored every minute of it.  A lot of my enjoyment came from actually knowing the people on stage, but it really was an amazing show.  Having hung out with all of the opera kids allowed me to go to the cast party, and I met a lot of other people, and I never regretted not being in the opera chorus.  Not even for one minute.

Until this week.

Auditions were held for the two spring operas, "Don Giovanni," by Mozart and "Our Town," composed by Ned Rorem last Thursday. They ran auditions for the chorus of Don G. and principals and chorus of Our Town at the same time, and auditionees (?) just had to indicate for which roles they were auditioning.  I didn't prepare an aria from the show and didn't put any more effort into it than I have for any other audition since I've come to Boulder. 

I auditioned for all three possible roles.  To be honest, I simply assumed that I would get into at least the Don G. or Our Town chorus, although I knew I wouldn't obtain a lead in OT.  What I didn't know was that the chorus parts for both shows are relatively small.

I can say that I was very disappointed to see the cast list for Don G. without my name on it.  That was on Wednesday, and the list for OT was to come out on Thursday.  When that was posted and my name was also not on the list, I cried.  Literally.  Kenny tried to comfort me in many ways (mostly unsuccessfully), but here's what I've learned (in the short-term) from this experience.

• I can't rely only on my voice for forever.  I also need to rely on preparation and presentation. 
• I need to be prepared for competition.  And lots of it.  There are approximately 87 million sopranos (I made that up) in the world today, all vying for a small number of roles. I can't just expect to get one.  That's foolish.  And dumb.  And foolish.
• In that vein, I need to get used to this feeling of not getting roles.  It's going to happen a million times in my life.  It's part of what I've gotten myself into.
• Despite all of those things, I need to have confidence (you'll see a blog on that topic very soon).

In short, my plans for this semester have changed drastically, knowing that I won't be involved in any shows, which are more time-consuming than you can possibly imagine.  I can only hope that I will take what I've learned from this disappointment into the future...

But hopefully it doesn't always happen this way...

The Long Commute

For my seventh birthday, my parents bought me the Laura Ingalls Wilder book series.  I don't know what possessed them to do such a thing, but I could never put them down.  I can't even count how many times I read them when I was young.  I was so obsessed that I made my family go to their homestead museum in De Smet, SD during a family vacation.  They hated every minute.  I loved it.

After Thanksgiving, I was talking with my pianist, and she had said that she had read one, "The Long Winter," while she was home during Thanksgiving break.  I thought to myself, "What a fantastic idea," and decided to read the series while I was home for Christmas.  Between drinking, knitting, drinking, puzzles, drinking, and drinking, I didn't really have time to read a whole lot.  However, I brought the books that I didn't finish with me to CO so that I would have some entertaining reading for my life.

I just finished "The Long Winter."

--------------------------------------

That story has absolutely nothing to do with this blog topic, other than that I stole the name of the book for my blog title.  Ha!  I make myself laugh sometimes...

Some know and some don't that I was kicked out of my apartment in Boulder at the end of December.  They didn't really have any good reason for kicking me out other than that they didn't want me there, but I left without a fight.  Luckily, at about the time I was getting kicked out, Kenny's ex-boyfriend was moving out of their condo in Broomfield.  Broomfield is a suburb of Denver, approximately 15 miles from Boulder.

Fifteen miles is not that far.  At least, not by ND standards, where cruising speed is 68 on a 65, and highways are void of things like traffic, potholes, car accidents, and stoplights.  Yes, stoplights.  I'm not kidding you when I say that highways here in CO have stoplights in the middle of nowhere.  There is nothing more annoying.

The road that I take to Boulder doesn't have stoplights, but it does have traffic.  Let me tell you: it has traffic.  Sometimes it takes me 45 minutes to go those 15 miles.  And that's on a clear day.  I haven't experienced snow/ice yet, but Kenny tells me it's even worse on those days.  Ew.  Now, I could take the bus, but I can't park for free at the park and ride because I have ND plates, and it takes even longer to get to Boulder by bus.

Because it now takes me more than 7 minutes to walk to class every morning, I have to get up that much earlier in order to get to class on time.  I have class at 8:00 am twice a week and at 9:00 am twice a week.  That equals getting up at 6:00 and 7:00 at the latest.  If you know me, you know that mornings and I are not friends.  Not even close to friends, so that is less than ideal. 

After fighting traffic to arrive in Boulder, I have to find parking.  Because I have class so early, it's generally not too difficult for me to find free, off-campus parking, but it's not too convenient, either.  It's just a hassle.

Let's not even talk about how stinky it is not to be able to go home in the middle of the day to take a shower, or a nap, or to eat dinner.  Most days, I bring lunch and supper with me. There hasn't been a day yet that I haven't spent more than 12 hours in Boulder.  But it's not worth coming home in the middle of the day, and especially not during rush hour traffic.

The current condo is cheaper than the old one per month, but we have to pay utilities and I have to pay for gas for commuting.  Blech. 

Now, there are positives to the new place.  My room is much bigger, I have a bathroom all to myself, there's a piano at home.  Oh, and of course, I have a fantastic roommate who entertains me daily.  Next year, we'll be living the high life in Boulder.

No, not that high life.

Dear Friends, It's Been a While

If you're a regular reader of my blog (and I know that some of you are still checking on a daily basis...), then you know that it's been nearly a month since I've written here. 

Please forgive me.

Going without the blog has been as bad for me as it has been for you, trust me.

While I was in Gwinner during Christmas break, there were times when my life attitude was horrible.  I would consider writing a blog, but chose not to, because that type of negative writing would not have been good for my morale or yours.  In addition, although there were blog-worthy things happening, not many were blog-appropriate.  I'm going to choose not to explain to you what that means, so again, you have to trust me.

When people ask me how my Christmas break was, I have to stop and think how to answer.  That has never happened to me before.  So much happened on different ends of the good/bad spectrum that it's a really difficult question to answer.  Christmas break was hard on me for more than one reason, some of which may be discussed here in the coming weeks.  But it may not be... 

I'm giving you the wrong impression.  No, my Christmas break was not entirely awful, although there were occasions when it was really awful.  There were also moments when it was good.  And overall, looking back, despite all of the bad things that happened during Christmas break, I have an overall really good feeling about it, again for reasons that I may discuss or may not.

I'm being cryptic and heavy.  Again, I apologize, but it's still hard for me to even think about how to begin writing about being home for Christmas.  When I consider how to write some of the things I want to write, nothing  seems to turn out in a way that will make people want to read it.  Therefore, I'm choosing to pass on writing about them for a while.  As the weeks go by, you may get snippets.  Or a really long post about everything.  But you may get nothing.

Again, I apologize, and I really don't want you all to get the wrong opinion about this post or my Christmas break.  I'm happy to be writing again, and wanted to demonstrate that I am actually still going to write the blog, and to thank you for continuing to check for posts, even though I hadn't written in such a long time.

For a very short update that will be expanded upon later: I'm almost completely settled in my new place in Broomfield.  Classes are almost the same as last semester.  Commuting is lame.

Look for another post soooooon!

I'll be Home for Christmas...

After my Saturday night birthday debacle, my entire body needed to recover.  Sunday was spent doing nothing productive, and it rocked.  But Monday brought the prospect of bad weather, and I decided to complete the second half of my journey to Gwinner.  The trip from Bowman to Gwinner went mostly wonderful.  It was snowing when I left, and the roads weren't amazing, but weren't horrible, either.  The driving life was good, until I got to Mandan. 

I'm a good, blinker-using driver.  It makes me quite angry when people don't use their blinkers, no matter the circumstances, but especially when there are pedestrians involved.  I always use mine.  Until, when just outside of Mandan, I passed someone on the interstate.  Before I re-entered the right lane, I, like the good, blinker-using citizen that I am, turned on my blinker.  

Bad idea.  The blinker blinked, but the blinker knob fell right off.

So there I was, still passing people (to the left) with my blinker on (to the right).  I'm sure people thought I was crazy, and I was so so so embarrassed.  I finally exited the interstate and made a left-hand turn, which turned the blinker off, but my knob is still out of commission.

Next, I stopped in Jamestown to visit my lil' sis.  After having dinner, I went to put gas in my car and to wash my windshield.  With the snow and meltiness on the roads, people had been spraying nasty onto my windshield almost the whole way from Bismarck to Jamestown.  Unfortunately, my windshield wiper fluid pump is broken (do you see a trend with my car here?), so it had to stay dirty during my travels.  I was looking forward it to cleaning it with those lovely squeegees that all gas stations have.

I had forgotten about the cold in ND.  None of the gas stations had windshield cleaner in the gas bays because it gets too cold and freezes, so I had to wash my windshield with a dry paper towel.

I was honestly surprised about how excited I was when I saw the bright lights of Gwinner through my newly-cleaned windshield.  I couldn't quite understand it.  My excitement has waned since, for a number of reasons that shall be discussed in later blogs.

Since I've been home, exactly what I had feared would happen has happened.  See, my parents have jobs and therefore money, and therefore keep food in the cupboards.  Plus, it's Christmas, so there is a large variety of sweets and other such nonsense readily available.  Aside from that, my friends from high school were only home for a few days, so I quickly ran out of things to entertain me.  In short, I've done a lot of sitting around at home, bored.  And alcohol is just far too prevalent. 

But I'm home, with family, experiencing a full-out ND blizzard.  Both of the interstates are closed from one end of the state to the other.  No travel is advised.  The wind is howling, the snow is drifting, and people are stuck in their houses IN TOWN.  Many families have been split up for this Christmas, and are scrambling to make plans with whoever can get together, while mine is here, playing cards, watching basketball, and (mostly) enjoying each other's company.

Oh, ND...

North Dakotans Know How to Party

Dear Colorado friends:

Please don't take offense to this post.  I'm only relaying an opinion based on personal experience.  And if you do take offense to this, you are the one who can change it.

Love,

Raissa

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I've recently been very annoyed by 2 traits that I've found common to people in Colorado.  Maybe my experiences have been uncharacteristic, maybe it's just the people I hang out with, maybe it's socially acceptable in Colorado... I don't know.  In any case, the prevalence of those two traits have caused me to be an angry, crabby person recently.  I'll cover the first briefly, while the second is really just an excuse to tell you about my birthday party.  The traits are:

• Flakiness
• The inability to party

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I am not a flaky person.  If I tell someone I'm going to do something, I do my very best to do it.  If, for some reason, I find out I can't do it, I make a point of telling them right away so that they don't expect me. If I make plans, I follow through.  If I don't know my plans, and there are too many variables to make a decision immediately, I will say, "I don't know what I'm going to do, but when I know, I will tell you."   I feel like it's just common courtesy.

It's apparently not common courtesy in Colorado.  I can't even count the number of times people have told me that they would love to come to an event, or even that they are coming to that event, and then never show up.  It's so unbelievably frustrating.  And hard to plan.  It's to the point that I'm accustomed to certain people saying that they are coming and not showing up that when they say that they're coming, I plan for them not to be there.  I'm getting used to it, but still hate it.

Maybe people in ND aren't flaky because if there's something to do that's even slightly out of the ordinary, we do it.  And there will be nothing else planned opposite of it: there are no other options for things to do.  In CO, there's always stuff to do, so it's possible that other things come up.  However, that's no excuse for not even calling to say you're not coming. 

I refuse to get used to this habit, and I definitely refuse to get into the habit myself.

On to #2: People in CO do not know how to party.  At least not in my experience.  North Dakotans, though... ha!

I spent over eight hours driving on Saturday in order to make it to Bowman, ND to party with my ND peeps for my birthday, which is today.  I was pretty bored along the way, which you can see from this:

Jettie had pink panty droppers waiting for me when I walked in the door.  We had 3 plus a shot before we even left for the bar.  At the rate that I've been drinking lately (read: never), I should have stopped after this:

We didn't.

We walked to the bar and had one shot and one more drink, and from there, the night goes, well, fuzzy.  This photo is from the first bar:

It was a kissy type of night.  A large percentage of the photos I have from last night involve someone kissing someong.  I gave both Jettie and Shauna hickies.  For fun.  As a joke. I'm not a lesbian.

We headed down the street to the other bar, where this happened:

I really, honestly, don't have much recollection of anything that happened in the second bar.  I talked to some guy from FL, Jettie and I danced provocatively, we drank more (I don't know where all the drinks came from), etc.  And we took a lot of pictures, like this one:

From there, we had an after-party at Jettie's house, which I really don't remember. I don't even remember getting birthday kisses from every person at the party, except that there is pictorial evidence (which you won't get to see). 

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Jettie had promised Bowman a shit show, and that's what they got.  All in all, we ended up with 102 pictures and a video (of Jettie in the bathroom... don't ask), along with lots of alcohol and tons of fun.  I've officially determined that I need more lady friends in CO: nothing beats a great girl's night out.

THAT, my friends, is how to party.  Ya'll can take lessons from us!

"So Come Home to North Dakota" - yay Medora!

Before I tell you about my journey home, let me tell you: I'M FAMOUS!!!

No, not because I'm such an amazing singer, and not because I rock.

Okay, I'm not actually famous at all.  However, I am mentioned in a book that was written by a couple who was traveling the 50 states and golfing.  At the time, it was late Summer 2008, and I was working in the pro shop at Bully Pulpit.

Read the google preview, which includes me, here.  Type "Raissa" in the search box, and I'll be there for ya!

In other exciting news, I have officially started the move over to Broomfield. I am currently sitting in my room in Boulder, which has only what wouldn't fit in my car during first trip to Broomfield.  All that is left here are things I need for life today.  I moved almost everything yesterday, and began the process of unpacking, which proved to be difficult in a mostly unfurnished bedroom.

I think that means, unfortunately, that I'll have to leave the bulk of my unpacking for when I get back from ND, but it's okay.  I'll have nothing else to do, really.  I'll have to bring back a few things from there with me to help fill up the space of my GINORMOUS room!

I'll finish packing today and will head for ND on Saturday.  I'll spend Saturday and probably Sunday in Western North Dakota, particularly Bowman and Medora, to see people out there.  Monday, I'll head east, maybe stopping in Bismarck/Jamestown along the way, depending if there are people there who want to see me.  I'll be back in Gwinner on Monday or Tuesday. 

If you are wanting to see me sometime during my voyage, please let me know!  There are many of you whom I want to see, but it's going to be really hard to coordinate schedules and driving, etc.  Please, please, please, please call or text: (701) 308-0495.  I just have too many friends to keep track of you all (hahahhahahaha.  Just kidding.  Mostly.)

I hope to see you all very soon!  : )  Wish me safe travels.

(Not really a) SURPRISE!!!

I turn 24 on Sunday.  I've not been very excited about the prospect of having lived for 24 years and not really accomplished anything in life. 

I was torn about when to head to ND for Christmas, because I felt like I should celebrate my birthday here before heading back.  But I wasn't sure who would be around, what we would do, etc.  And I most certainly didn't want to plan my own birthday party.

On Monday, I ran into my friend Anna, and she asked me what I was doing.  I'd recently become very noncommittal about a birthday party because of being drained at the idea of being 24.  I was trying to explain it to her, but she didn't get it, and offered to plan a birthday party for me.  I agreed that if she wanted to plan something, I would participate.

Not two hours later, Kenny texted me, asking me what my plans were for Wednesday evening.  I didn't have any, so he suggested I come over to cook hamburger helper for him.  If that seems weird to you, let me explain: Kenny can't cook.  He once failed at cooking frozen pizza by leaving the cardboard under the pizza while it was in the oven.  I've cooked hamburger helper for us before, so it wasn't that strange of a request.  But I knew immediately that there was a party being planned for me. 

I was determined not to tell them that I knew, but I really wanted someone to know that I knew so that when I told them that I knew they would believe me.  I told people at work, along with others about my suspicions.  One co-worker laughed and wondered what would happen if I went there expecting a surprise when really it was just dinner. 

When Dennis dropped me at my apartment on Tuesday night, I wanted to give him an appropriate goodbye.  If there was no surprise party, I should give him a hug and say Merry Christmas.  But if there was a surprise party, then I wouldn't need to do that.  As I got out of the car, I said, "Will I see you tomorrow?"  He said, "I don't know."  I said, "Well, is Kenny having a surprise party for me tomorrow?"  His face told it all.  I said, "Okay, see you tomorrow!  And don't worry, I won't tell that you told me."  He tried to tell me that he didn't tell me, which I guess he technically didn't, but he did.

Wednesday night, I was hanging out at my house, waiting to head over to Kenny's, when he texted me and asked for my roommate's number.  Weird, considering that they don't really talk.  Then, I got a phone call from a friend asking for Kenny's number.  Then, Kenny told me to hurry because he had cooked without me. 

If there had been any doubts about a surprise before, there wasn't anymore.  I drove to Kenny's and could see a number of legs between the windowsill and the bottom of the blinds.  I saw women's shoes in the window by the door.  I opened the door, walked in, and everyone yelled, "Surprise!" 

"Did you know?" they said.  "Of course," was my reply.  They were disappointed that I knew, but it was still very exciting.  It's my very first surprise party!  Of course I was excited!  They all had brought a potluck dish, and some friends got me flowers.  We drank mojitos and chatted until I fell asleep on the couch.

I guess I'm not depressed about a 24th birthday, after all...  Thanks, CO friends! :)

Finals Fun... err...

Finals Week: I had forgotten how much I love, yet hate this week of my life all at the same time.

You see, finals are a funny thing.  They are supposed to measure all that you've learned in one semester.  Really, all I think that they really measure are people's ability to stay up late and cram  an entire semester's worth of information into two days of studying.

In Jamestown, I was a hardcore procrastinator.  We're talking save a 10-page term paper until the night before it was due procrastinator (I got an A on it, in case you were wondering).  It never helped that I was always able to get good grades even though I procrastinated.  My procrastination was positively reinforced, and my grades never suffered as a result of my saving my work until the end.

During my second go-round, I decided to change my ways.  I wanted to get things done before they needed to be done so that I wouldn't stress out at the last minute.  I had it in my head to excel at my coursework without all the craziness involved in putting things off until the day before they were due. 

I succeeded at first.  I would actually read the assigned readings in my theory textbook, and did extra homework to practice, just for fun.  I did my listening assignments weeks ahead of time so that I could listen to them more than once before the quiz.  I wrote papers before they were due so that I would have time to edit and revise them. 

Things slowly deteriorated as the semester went on.  Music theory suddenly wasn't as hard, and I didn't feel like I would need to read the readings.  I didn't really do the listening assignments because we listened to most of the pieces in class.  I saved the papers because the ones I had to write weren't as difficult as psychology papers.  In short, I just got lazy. 

It's a bad idea to procrastinate studying for cumulative finals that make up a large percentage of your grade.  Luckily for me, most of my classes are cumulative in themselves, so it's not a whole bunch of review.  I mean, one can't study pieces of theory and have tests on it and then put it all together for a test.  It's like math: it builds upon itself.  And either you get it, or you don't.

I have had a decent finals schedule: 1 last week, 2 Saturday, 1 Monday, and 2 today.  Yes, final exams start on Saturdays here.  At 7:30 am.  No, I'm not kidding.  I'm grateful I didn't have one Saturday 7:30.  Gross.  Everything has gone mostly fine.  I take my theory exam in 20 minutes.

To me, though, the most important final exam isn't an exam at all.  It's a performance jury.  Every performance major in every area has to show the semester's progress by performing for all of the faculty in the department.  As a freshman, I had to have 6 songs prepared, of which I would sing 2.  The performer picks the first and the faculty picks the second. 

Needless to say, I was nervous.  Always am. I always feel like I'm not going to live up to the faculty's expectations of me.  I psyche myself out.  Strangely enough, though, I wasn't nearly as nervous as I usually am.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm getting more comfortable with performing, or with the faculty, or if I was just well-prepared enough, but the fact that I wasn't nervous freaked me out...

That's beside the point.  I walked in, and received a very warm welcome.  They asked me what I would sing, and I surprised them by introducing a musical theatre piece by Stephen Sondheim.  Upon the pronouncement, the opera director pumped her fists in the air with excitement.  I performed the piece nearly perfectly, and upon its completion, one professor told me never to sing that song again because it made her cry.  Another said that she was so happy that they had me here at CU.  The second song was technically great, but I have a hard time relating to it emotionally.  Most of the comments centered around my lack of emotion, which I predicted.  I'll keep working on it, though. 

The good news is that I earned an A for the semester in my voice studio, which is awesome.  That's what I'm here for.  I hope to continue improving, and look forward to the many juries ahead of me.

In the meantime, I'll see you fools in ND next week.  Prepare yourselves.  And your livers.

Christmas is in the Air...

Today is a day full of Christmas celebrations, and every minute has been exciting for me.

Last week, I went into the Music Development Office to pick up the Christmas gift bag that every Adopt-a-Student Scholarship recipient gets.  While I was in there, Scott, the director of the office, said, "Raissa, do you have a church gig for this weekend?"  I didn't.  He said, "Do you want one?"  I did.  He explained to me that it involved one rehearsal and one performance.  I was more than welcome to help.  Then, he said, "Is $125 enough?"  Yes, please!

So yesterday morning, Kenny and I drove down to Golden for a rehearsal with the choir, and then again this morning for the performance.  (I got up at 6:00 am... BLECH!)  Our role was to help fill the sound of the choir so that it could be heard over the full orchestra that was entirely composed of CU music students.  The church has its own choir, we were just beefing them up a bit.

The performance was excellent; we sang for a full house.  And the choir members were really cute old people.  There was one man who always knew the exact page number and yelled it out at the top of his lungs, the very nice lady who sat beside me and told me about her squished boob, and Peaches, the black female tenor who always had a wisecrack at the best possible moment, among others.

After the performance, Kenny and I headed to Denver for the 35th annual "Tuba Christmas."  I had never heard of such a thing, but Kenny had been to one in Aberdeen. Tuba Christmas happens when literally hundreds of brass players: euphonium, tuba, sousaphone, etc., etc., etc. get together and play Christmas carols and hymns arranged for a tuba choir.

It was awesome.  I literally got the goosebumps every 5 seconds, and it wasn't because of the chill in the air.  The performers were everywhere from 8 to 85 years old and included families, friends, and people who had performed in up to 34 Tuba Christmases in Denver alone.  There were about 250 performers, and the conductors were the cutest old men ever.  I can't even describe how cute they were.

I was a little sad that the audience wasn't a bit more excited to be there.  Kenny and I had a great time singing along, which the organizers encouraged, but not many were singing.  In any case, the two of us had a great time.

We had to park pretty far away from the location where Tuba Christmas was held, and I had worn heels.  On the way back to the car, we had to cross several roads.  At one such road, we decided to cross just as the hand started flashing at us not to cross.  I took a step onto the street, then another...  Thn, I suddenly had no shoe.  The heel had wedged itself into a crack on the road, and when I kept walking, I lost my shoe.  So there I was, in the middle of the street in downtown Denver, with only one shoe on my feet, and the hand getting ready to tell us not to walk.  I was laughing so hard I could hardly contain myself, and so was everyone around us.  I finally rescued my shoe and ran across the street.  All I could say was, "I hope everyone who saw that laughed really hard."  

Now, I'm getting ready to head over to my church, ULC, for our Christmas Hymns and Reading service.  Because there will probably be no students here on Christmas, we are celebrating today by singing and reading traditional Christmas Eve stuff.  I'm leading a few hymns, chanting some antiphons, and singing "O Holy Night" for the Recessional.  They are going to record the service and give copies to alumni, so I'm pretty excited about it.

It's finally beginning to feel like Christmas around here...

Life Update (It's a doozy)...

A few strange things happened this week.

Okay, a lot of strange things...  The strangest of them all, though, are as follows:

• I didn't blog for over a week. Shame on me.
• People still checked out my blog to see if I had written.  Go you!!!

However, those are minor things in comparison to the roller coaster that has been Raissa's life recently.  I'll do my best to sum them up below.

Last week brought a lot of hype with the much-anticipated and yet much-dreaded Holiday Festival.  I had (obviously) never been in the Holiday Festival, but had heard a lot of bad things about it from upperclassmen.  Thinking about it, I mean, what good could possibly come from 300-400 musicians in the same room, at the same time, putting on the same concert 4 times?

I thought that the JC Christmas Concert was a hassle and time-consuming, what with a dress rehearsal filmed by PBS crews and having to do your hair and makeup the same way two days in a row so that they could take cuts from the rehearsal and the live performance.  Ha!  Not even.

The HF involved one 3 1/2-hour rehearsal on Thursday night, which was awful.  Standing for almost the whole time, rehearsing instead of running pieces, people not paying attention, dealing with "Betelehemu..."  It was awful.  We performed on Friday night, which was pretty bad again, but it was nice to sing for a sold-out crowd of 2000.  We performed Saturday afternoon to yet another sold-out crowd.  (Guess who forgot to put their phone on silent and received a phone call during the concert.  If you guess me, you're right.)  They fed us, we drank a little, and had a Saturday evening concert, which was also sold out.  Then, we had a sold-out Sunday afternoon concert. In all, we performed to over 8,000 people. 

It really wasn't as bad as people made it out to be.  There was a great variety of music, what with an orchestra, brass band, percussion piece, monster choir, small choir, and a few soloists.  My riser buddies made life interesting, and there was never a dull moment on the risers.  Sure, it sucked to stand for an hour and a half without moving, but whatever.  That happens.  And we didn't even have to sing well half of the time because of the audience sing-alongs. The audience loves the show and come back year after year.  I love watching crazies in the audience.  It's highly entertaining.

What did suck about it, though, was how gosh darn much of my time it wasted.  I was in the monster choir, composed of like 200 students, so really, I was useless.  No one would have noticed if I wasn't there, and I wasn't really necessary.  Not that I'm saying I want to stand out, but it makes one feel unimportant in a choir of that size.  And I got absolutely no homework done.  At least it was the weekend before the week before finals week instead of the weekend before finals week.

In addition to HF, I had to attend orientation at BR, where I was hired as a shift leader at a new store that is opening in Superior.  This job, even though I haven't actually started yet, has been a run-around ever since the interview, and as soon as I find something better, I will snatch it up.  I had the interview in October and the owner-manager told me that I was a top candidate.  I expected to start working within a few weeks.  A few weeks went by, and I heard nothing, so I emailed and still heard nothing.  I did another job search.

I finally got an email saying they would like to hire me, but that the store where I would be working wasn't even built yet, and that we would be training soon.  Well, here it is, 2 months (almost) after my interview, and we finally started training last weekend.  Saturday morning, I had to be in Longmont (a 20-minute drive) by 8:30 am.  I got there to find that my co-workers are literally all high-schoolers (except one).  F. M. L.  I was talked to as if I was one of them: slow, stupid, and shy.  I'm not any of those things.  Well, slow sometimes.

We did the same thing on Sunday at 8:30 am.  I was told we would be working store hours during this week in the Longmont store, but when I asked her when and gave her my schedule, she said we wouldn't be working because of the weather.  When a schedule was finally made, I was scheduled to work during a time I specifically told her I couldn't work because of final exams starting THIS Saturday.  It's not been fun. 

Monday brought a surprise of its own.  I came home to a very upset roommate.  Her department had randomly decided that hall directors with roommates had to get rid of the roommates.  Presently, there is no rule against it, and they have known that I have been living here since August, but it only became a problem this week.  Why?  I don't know.  If the department had their way, I would be out on the street right now.  I apparently pose a security risk or something.

Surprisingly, I wasn't freaking out about it.  My dear friend Kenny recently broke up with his boyfriend and has been looking for a roommate, so I knew that I had that option.  Christina told me to wait until Thursday (today), so that they could make a definite decision.

I waited.  Today came, and they have decided to write a new policy for hall directors that requires that their roommates be either family members or domestic partners. Because I'm not Christina's domestic partner and because I have no desire to turn lesbian in order to stay in this apartment, I have to move out.  The department wants me out as soon as possible, but Christina said I could stay until after Christmas break.  I'll probably move out at the end of next week.

Kenny is staying in a condo in Broomfield, which is about 10 miles from Boulder.  It's not nearly as convenient for many reasons:

• I'll be commuting to Boulder daily (but we plan on carpooling).
• It's an unfurnished place, so I'll have to buy some furniture (unless anyone has anything they'd be willing to donate and deliver to CO for me).
• It's not nearly as convenient as living on campus because I'll have to get everything done during the day and won't be able to make random trips to the music building or library.
• My house was very centrally located for my friends, and a great meeting point.
• It was nice not to have to drive home after a night of too many teas.
  

However, I do think it will be awesome to live with Kenny.

• He's from SD, and we get along splendidly.  We already know where each other is every minute of every day, so this won't be weird at all.
• Rent will be about the same.
• I get to park right by my building instead of a 10-minute walk away.
• Broomfield is closer to work (if I keep my job at BR).

It's been pretty stressful, what with finals next week (starting Saturday) and random tests and recitations this week.  But there is never a dull moment in CO.  I hope to continue to update all of you more regularly this week, because there are some exciting things ahead!!!

Thanks for reading during my hiatus!