Chapter read and lesson learned

Last night, the East London line transferring at Canada Water to the Jubilee Line, transferring at Waterloo to the Bakerloo line and up to Charring Cross where I alighted at Trafalgar Square. There I made the spring (as I was late) up the steps of St. Martin in the Fields Church, bought a £6 ticket to sit in the stalls in the balcony with no view of the musicians for a concert of Bach Concertos. The whole church was lit by candlelight which barely illuminated the faces in the dark pews. The group, The London Concertato, stood in the apse of the church under two hanging and fully lit candelabras. The only natural light in the place was those clipped on their music stands which illuminated only the underside of their instruments- the violins and the viola left their faces in shadow. The place was packed. As I entered late they were already in the second movement of their first Bach concerto but as the program continued, they eventually strayed a bit from their Bach program, a discovery I made when they launched into a familiar piece that I could've sworn was Vivaldi. I grinned through the rest of the concert realizing that not only was it Vivaldi, but was his Concerto for two Violins a Minor on which I'd just written a beast of a paper last semester. I can't remember ever feeling like I owned anything more than I that piece at that moment. I was listening for everything I'd drawn out from my recording and detailed in the paper: the exchange of voices between violin soloists, the harmonic water treading and how it served to heighten tension before the cadential material. I know it's nerdy of me but I was thrilled listening through each concerto for the routine circle of fifths and trying to determine what had just been tonicized, stuff I'd struggled with so badly within those first terms at Tufts and now was able to hear- Schmalfeldt would be proud.
I'm the first to admit I'm a sap so I've got no qualms about explaining how fortunate I felt sitting there, loving hearing what I was hearing, loving the loving of it, wallowing in the hopefulness of my romanticism; I am so unbelievably grateful. There's a Colin Hay song I discovered last year titled "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin" that's on quite a few my ipod's playlists. Again, I'm being a cheeseball and I absolutely know it, but, um, all of last night felt like it was beginning. Any threat of loneliness I'd felt on the horizon simply melted. Heh...we'll see how long that lasts, but that's that. I'm just the luckiest girl.
Waiting for the tube on the way home I was looking at various posters on the subway walls, one of which advertised a Beatrix Potter impersonator for children's parties. Made me remember- out of the blue- some event in the 4th grade or so when we had to research and come to school as, a literary figure, namely a character or an author. I was Beatrix Potter. I remember wearing Mum's apron and the tight bun she fixed my hair into, some little rounded white collar. Peter was Mark Twain with an enormous moustache and a steam boat captain's hat and jacket. Man, we were cute

The concert was definitely the high-point of yesterday, but had I not attended, it might have been grocery shopping. I adore grocery shopping. It's something I've been putting of doing en mass and have been much more content to buy a few packets of oatmeal or containers of soup here and there because somehow I thought it less expensive, but yesterday it was a four Sainsbury's bag full adventure. I didn't want to exceed £25 of groceries, so I had my mandatory list which of course included soup, oatmeal, some veggies, yogurt and tea, and my wish list, which included things like q-tips, laundry detergent, milk, shampoo and muesli. It all came in under budget. £24 on the nose. I think I enjoy grocery shopping for the same reason I enjoy theatre. It's all just "playing house".

I've just come from my Ethnomusicology class (large class, dull professor, interesting potential paper topics), and I've got a little over an hour before my Classical Performance Seminar with the composers- all the singers will be paired off with composers and will collaborate on an aria to be performed in May? June(ish)? I've also just picked up a flyer for a comedy called Otherwise Engaged playing at the Criterion Theatre in Piccadilly Circus for £17.50 a seat. It's a possibility, but other than class I have no idea what I'm doing for the rest of today. Perhaps laundry.

Lids down- I count sheep- I count heartbeats-
the only thing that counts is that I won't sleep-
I countdown- I look around-
Who needs sleep? (Well you're never gonna get it.)
Who needs sleep? (Tell me what's that for?)
Who needs sleep? (Be happy with what you're gettin'; there's a guy's been awake since the second world war.)
So much joy in life so many pleasures all around,
but the pleasure of insomnia is one I've never found,
with all life has to offer there's so much to be enjoyed
but the pleasures of insomnia are ones I can't avoid.
-Barenaked Ladies - "Who Needs Sleep"