woke up this morning to a cozy, rainy day. it had actually been cold enough to put on the heater last night, so, lulled by the rain and the toasty warmth in the room, i did not manage to extricate myself from my blankets till well past ten today.

it has almost been a month, but i still feel strangely disjointed every saturday, accustomed as i have been to spending saturday mornings looking through music scores and readying my voice for practice. these days, i clean the room, do some work, daydream, and timidly attempt to do some vocal exercises – timidly because i do not want a rumour to start going around the dormitory, about a certain haunted room on the sixth floor.

work has increased exponentially in just one week, and i am starting to feel a little breathless just trying to keep up. a fortune teller once told me that i am destined to lead a life of hard work despite being a naturally lazy person, and i am so afraid that he may be right.

i have been invited to participate in a joint research project, and spoke to several researchers last night at one of the project meetings. i was more than a little surprised to learn that many of them had left school with a heavy debt and no employment prospects, but were fortunate enough to have husbands to live on. certainly, i had done my research before taking the plunge, but to find so many such researchers gathered in one room – all female – was somewhat discouraging. i do not think my search for the perfect expat husband will come to fruition any time soon, and am rather afraid that i will be doomed to collecting favors at soup kitchens unless i somehow manage to publish at least 10 papers in the 3 years to come. how is that even humanly possible?

i suppose some of my anxiety is showing, and more than one person has told me to relax, that i still have much time ahead of me. but sometimes, the weight of being a single woman with retiring parents back home comes crashing down on my shoulders, and i begin to wonder if i should have stayed in the civil service instead. but that is pointless musing, so i turn to my books and papers instead. the first paper has to be ready for submission by the end of summer. reality looks rather grim right now, but i suppose there is no greater motivating force than a little drama.

another concert down in the annals of history.

if you had been there last night, thank you for giving us, and the music, a chance.

post-concert always means a time for reflecting. it is not a simple matter of it being a ‘good’ or a ‘bad’ concert. the journey is as important as the destination, although… the concert is not the destination in itself. it is just another point in the long journey that we have undertaken… but, where to? as a choir mate pointed out, it is never the end; only the beginning.

but this concert, somehow, meant a lot more to me on a personal level. this time, more so than all the previous performances put together, i have broken down so many of my own walls. technical things aside, it has been something to really, really sit down and consider what the music means to the composer, to myself, and to the audience. never before have i so wanted to convey what i felt about a piece of music to the audience. i wanted them to feel the music with their hearts, rather than understand it with their heads. i hope we did some of that last night.

for someone not of the religion, understanding margutti’s missa lorca is no mean feat. i struggled with it, fighting an unfamiliar language and metaphors that were way out of my league. but at the end of the day, the themes of life and death and eternal salvation are, i guess, universal. as life comes to an end, fear… uncertainty… peace… perhaps even joy?… and the ultimate closure… putting aside all the regrets and apologies and anger, and believing – not necessarily in God and salvation, but at least, in the inevitable nature and finality of it all, and in our own mortality. so, as in the final movement of kyrie… be always alive, be eternally dying. all that – i really, truly, wanted to convey.

technically, i feel as if i have gotten past something important – the psychological barriers against singing high notes (what are they, after all, but a tightening of the strings in my voice box?), and all those other technical difficulties we were faced with. to be sure, we were not successful all the way; there were accidents which we beat ourselves up for… but now, it is time to move on. it always is. i don’t want to set levels for myself by saying that i am simply an amateur singer who knows only the bare basics in music theory, but still, i feel rather accomplished for having done what i did last night. some years ago, i would never have thought it possible to pour out all that music in one sitting. but we did, and now, there is no knowing what more we can do. it is such an exciting thought.

singers are unique. we are both the musician and the instrument. it could be so easy for us to manipulate our instruments, and yet, it could be so difficult to. but that makes it all the more satisfying, and every time we go beyond what we initially thought was our limit, we feel reborn. it must be what athletes feel when they break records.

the journey continues.

completed all my work right.on.time (although i had to rush out after that), but thanks to that, i succeeded in having a guilt-free night out.

martini and free flow of steak sandwiches at morton’s! silly jokes! reminiscent talk of school and ‘the young people today’! playing with funny-looking toys hanging on handphones! cam-whoring! japanese sundaes (sesame, sesame, and more sesame…)!

essentially, four single girls, good food (and drinks), and lots of talk simply add up to a relaxing, uncomplicated outing. think sex and the city with a huge dose of wide-eyed innocence and less dirty talk. i haven’t had that kind of night for a long, long while now. it was good to not have to talk about babies, homes, careers, or have people probing worriedly about my relationship (or lack thereof) or career (or lack thereof!). granted, i believe most people are sincerely concerned, but really, i can only talk about my ‘yeah, whatever’ situation this many times. hell, even i get bored trying to update myself.

being in the choir has always been enjoyable, albeit somewhat stressful, but being with the choir is something that i am only beginning to experience. almost, i don’t wish to leave singapore. i feel as if i have finally found a little niche of my own, and am loathe to uproot myself all over again. as you age, changes become less of an adventure and more of a hassle. you begin to think about adaptability and other strange, ‘age-y’ things like that.

we had a thunderstorm yesterday, and the air has been lovely and cool since then. as i was walking home today, a balmy, tropical breeze came at me, whipping my hair (i love that sensation of being in a shampoo ad) and making the leaves at the foot of a tree swirl around gently for just a second. and for just a second, i hated the thought of leaving home. people ask me if i prefer singapore or country x (wherever it is we are talking about at that point in time), and i can never answer them. it’s a moot question. home will always be home. the heat, the buses and trains, the lack of interesting free-to-air tv channels, and sometimes, even the people drive me nuts… but home is still home. you cannot look at it objectively and critique it – it would be akin to asking a mother if she prefers her own daughter or that other clever girl she babysat. i was born of this land, and it is in me. i will always find something in it to love.

well, i just wrote an entire national day speech. but my country has given me so many good days… i don’t wish to pretend to be one of those singapore-bashing intellectuals. running away does not represent ingratitude or loathing; you love your parents but have to leave them, don’t you? it’s one and the same.

i’m sure i will come home to roost for good one day. just… when? or perhaps… with whom?