but how strange, the change from major to minor

So at BEACH, Mrs. Huggins is doing something very out of character and letting people prepare solos- not lines in songs, or descants, or whatever, but actual pieces sung entirely by one person- and tomorrow I'm trying out for one. The song I picked is "Every Time We Say Goodbye," which in case you somehow don't know is that really sweet and sad and amazing song that always makes me tear up in The Parent Trap and actually cry in Jack Frost. Anyway, it's Mrs. Huggins, so obviously you have to try out for her and only certain people get to actually perform at the concert, and I'm auditioning tomorrow. *nerves*

The point of saying all of this, besides just as a general update, is that I went for a voice lesson today, and I wasn't being emotional enough, so she told me to imagine something that went along with the song that was really important to me and would get me into it.

I thought about y'all. I was walking around the room, and I closed my eyes and pictured the commencement from Academy, and leaving my purse unattended on a bench to go attack hug Anna when she got to the theater over thanksgiving, and staring out the window on the way home from auditions, and the happy but sad feeling that comes every time I get a letter from Emilea.

And guess what? It was a million times better( and this is not my ego talking. my mom and ms.Elsie[Jen's grandma!] both said, simultaneously, "that was a million times better". it was spooky).

I'm so smad that I can't spend next week up there with you, Emilea. You have no idea how much I wish I could. But we have to work something out. You two are coming to the island! Maybe the first week of August? There must be some sort of reunion. It's been too long since we said hello.

Okay, so I will now leave you with an example of how BEACH writing class is killing my creative soul. It is an acrostic poem- which I have not been forced to write since Mrs.Stephenson's class where we did all sorts of kindergardeny things and those weren't supposed to have any poetic meaning- of a musical term of my choosing.

Squawking, underpitched high notes result in
Ominious looks from the director.
Punishment is inevitable; I prepare for the verbal blow. I'd so
Rather sing alto, or even tenor or bass,
As those groups can count, find their
Notes, and are never lazy
Or smug. Despite what some believe, I love to
Sing- but oh, how it sucks to be a soprano.

See? This is the kind of work that is resulting from this so-called "poetry" class (please note, though, that the poem, however horrible, does not mock the assignment). I would share my diamante with you, but I haven't written it yet. I just can't bring myself to do it. I have written one decent thing, on the day we were allowed to pick our form, and once I fine tune it a bit I'll post on Don't Fret (before Heather posts hers, or after? This remains to be seen...).

Overall, things are better for me this week. It's more of the same, but it no longer bothers me. I've developed a numbness to P90X, and BEACH can even be fun when I am singing and not getting screamed at. Still, I'm excited for the end of next week, when I can relax and have fun, enjoying summer. Maybe even joining in on some epic, if I'm welcome.

love
Caroline

every time we say goodbye