Anatomy of a Day in the Life of a Lady of Leisure

I'm currently entering my third week of non-day-employment, and am finally settling into a groove. I keep remarking to myself how uncanny it is the amount of things I can get accomplished when my mornings and afternoons aren't spent parked behind a desk. Slowly but surely, my body, house, personal relationships, and music career are getting the attention they deserve. My dry-cleaning lady and I are on a first-name basis and I can finally walk in my bedroom without stumping my toes on some sort of clutter. I have, by no means, gotten everything done, but I finally feel like items get crossed off my to-do list instead of staying parked there for weeks at a time finally to be addressed in haphazard fashion. I'm enjoying what others think may be mundane because I finally have the leisure to get those types of things done. I'm also getting a taste of what domestic life feels like. Rather than just taking care of myself, I'm practicing taking care of a household (which my darling mother keeps reminding me I'm not quite equipped to do right this second).

So what does a typical day look like in my life of leisure? It's not all track suits and soap operas, I assure you. I'm getting my condo ready to put on the market, planning the wedding of the century, and soliciting work so that I don't... you know... starve.

The biggest difference is my waking time. My internal body clock has still been waking me up at 7 am, but now I get to stay in bed and watch West Wing re-runs on Bravo. I get up when I feel prepared to get out of bed rather than over-sleeping and rushing to get into the office on time. I try to do something around the house whether it's purging junk from the loft or scrubbing down the balcony, cleaning out my closet or meeting with a contractor. I go to coffee with a girlfriend or drive down to Chevy Chase and take an aerobics class in the afternoon. I run errands like grocery shopping or picking up dry cleaning or getting my oil changed. When evening falls, it's time to go to work, and I make sure that I'm doing something music-related even if I'm not teaching or leading a rehearsal. If class or a lesson is cancelled or I don't have a scheduled rehearsal, I go to a quiet place and spend time preparing scores or planning a rehearsal. And once all of that is done and the Maestro is finished with his rehearsal, we spend some time with one another so that we don't forget what the other looks like.

My work may be evenings and weekends, but above all, I finally feel rested and un-rushed. I've become a priority in my life again, and the change of pace is a breath of fresh air. I surely don't expect it to last forever, or even for much longer, but for now, my life of leisure is a fantastic shift in pace.

How to be a (non-starving) artist

Part of my new full-time job is convincing my mother that I won't starve from being a professional musician before I become Mrs. Maestro next October. I admit the thought of it is a little daunting, but possible nonetheless. The most notable change will be in the way I get paid. About the only thing that I'll miss about former-hateful-day-job-that-shall-remain-nameless is the income direct-deposited into my checking account every other Friday. Instead, I'll get paid in large chunks by contract for each gig I complete. I'll get some mad money to supplement that income from teaching private voice, and hopefully that will amount to about half of the green that I use to... you know... not starve. I just have to practice pacing my spending so that I can make those large chunks of cash last until the next one appears. And to survive, I just have to close a show every 4-6 weeks and teach between 20 and 30 hours a month.

So how close am I to making that happen?

Well, I already had existing contracts for gigs ending in December and January, so I have no worries until then. I've booked contracts for gigs ending in March, May, June, and July, so I'm out of the woods for 6 out of the 11 months before the Maestro makes an honest woman out of me. I'm working on a contract for a gig I really want for February and haven't quite figured April out yet. I'm continuing to hustle, and am about halfway there to not allowing my mother's worst fears come to life.

I'll keep you updated on how it goes.

Until then, I'll leave you with a video that reflects my daily sentiments...

Guess who's gonna be belle of the ball.

I had to go down to the District yesterday to pick up our Inaugural Ball tickets in person. We're going to the Eastern Ball at Union Station, which initially gave me mixed feelings. On one hand, I wanted to go to the Mid-Atlantic Ball so that we had the chance of bumping into someone... anyone from Maryland. Someone who might have some distant connection to someone else that we knew in a previous life. On the other hand, I was excited about the venue. While I have no doubt that they'll make the Convention Center as snazzy as they possibly can, Union Station just seems like such a cooler space in which to have a ball. Then Mama Downbeats texted me to inform me that the main act at said ball we're attending is none other than James Taylor, the Maestro's favorite. That sealed the deal. I'm officially electrified to be a part of the inaugural festivities tomorrow.

I picked up Metro tickets for tomorrow as well while I was down there in the event that we decided that the Metro was the easiest way to get from point A to point be once entering the DC metropolitan area. Even the non-commemorative version have Obama's face on them. Instant souvenir!

So at any rate, the time is nigh! 24 hours and I'll be on my way to being a part of history. I'll be documenting my day tomorrow with B, Baltimore's free daily. Hop on over to B the site tomorrow to check out their inauguration coverage. And, of course, I'll be doing a wrap up here over the next few days.

Easing on down another road

'Cause there maybe times
When you think you lost your mind
And the steps you're takin'
Leave you three, four steps behind
But the road you're walking
Might be long sometimes
You just keep on steppin'
And youll just be fine

For the past couple of months, I've been doing some soul searching and serious thinking as to what direction I should be heading professionally in the creative realm. I've been playing with some folks down on the other beltway... learning how to teach music that literally just finished being written and laughing my butt off.

Today, I start teaching children how to sing The Wiz. Generally, a day doesn't go by where I don't find myself at least once saying some variant of, "I hate children." The Maestro says I do it for shock value. Sometimes I'm not so sure.

But, I truly am excited to have been given the opportunity to try something new, and to work with a completely unfamiliar group of people. I think that I'll need this concentration of youth and innocence before I start working with naked men in April.



Don't you carry nothin' that might be a load. Come on, ease on down the road...

I bit the bullet!

When I started this blog, my intention to be semi-anonymous was never rooted in an attempt to hide it from people in real life. Nor was I trying to keep my face off the web so that I could bear my deepest darkest secrets. While there are some blogs that I love to read because over-share and impassioned commentary are their specialties, it's never quite been my style. My sole objective when keeping my legal name off of this site and instead going by my musical theatre nickname was to keep this from being the first thing potential employers saw when they Googled my name. Not that I have anything to hide, it's just that it's none of their business. I am also convinced that one day, the Maestro will be elected Mayor of Baltimore, and I don't want the press to use any of this against him. That being said, my mother reads this blog. The Maestro reads as well, and I have it posted somewhere on my Facebook profile. Not only do I not mind when people I know in real life check out Random Musings-- I get a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

This should not be seen in anyway as discounting the friends I've made and lives I've been welcomed into on the internet solely by networking with other people from all over who, like me, are addicted to the blogosphere. I do, however, wish that I had more of an interface on the internet side of the world with people I've known in real life first. I can count on my fingers the number of real life friends with whom I'm connected on Twitter. The same goes for blogs in my reader. I don't by any means expect everyone on the planet to keep a blog-- I barely can. But I definitely wish that more real people were on Twitter. For jeeps' sake, I found out about yesterday's Hudson River crash before anyone else I know.

So yesterday I got inspired when I saw the Twitter handle and blog URL in the signature of an e-mail I received from a member of the cast on my current project. Why shouldn't I put myself out there? If I want to interact with people I know in real life online, I should advertise my existence, no? So I just changed my e-mail signature on my personal account to reflect my online persona. I'm betting I'll be surprised at how many people I know are out there lurking on the internets in varying states of anonymity, too. At least that's my hope. I'll let you all know how it goes.

AND! Don't think I don't check my stats on Feedburner. I know there are some Baltimore lurkers out there. Let me know that you've stopped by every now and then. It'll make me straight up giddy, I promise you.

A New Years Confession

I have a deep, dark secret to share with you all. I almost put it on a postcard and sent it to Frank Warren, but I decided I'd feel better if I just came clean.

I'm sure that you're familiar with this video (unless you've been living under a rock for the past two months):



Well I have a sick, obsessive, love-hate relationship with it.

I became acquainted with this little ditty at a friend's party pretty soon after it was released. I smiled and nodded and told said friend that it was as magical as he thought it was. Then I found myself a few days later re-enacting most of the choreography in the middle of the night in the middle of a Cheesecake Factory parking garage for a group of un-hip friends who hadn't been so fortunate as to see it yet. We chortled. "How awful is that video?!" "What is she doing, the funky chicken?" "I could've written that song when I was five!"

But months later, I find myself somehow still hypnotized with the drum machine and mindless repetition. Or maybe it's the way she gets her hips to rotate like that. There are some who have even attributed my fascination to the jealousy I harbor against Beyoncé's alleged million-dollar weave collection closet. And then there are others (cough cough maestro cough cough) who consider my frightening ability to recall the choreography as a parlor trick to start conversations at parties.

Either way, I've got a fever that even more cowbell can't solve, and it's called "Single Ladies."

PHEW! Now that I got that off my chest, I feel better. Please don't judge me too harshly.

Hey Christmas... where did you go?

Hi there blogosphere. I've been silent because I've been on the run. There have been so many fun things that we've done, and they've gone by so fast that I've been remiss in sharing all of our fun-ness with the internet. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I do hope that everyone had a lovely Christmas. I still can't quite believe it's over. The Maestro and I did a lot of singing (he did a lot of playing the organ, too), a lot of laying around in our pajamas, followed by a lot of driving and spending time with family. It was so beautiful. So incredibly beautiful that I wish I could have a week more. Then, I feel like I'd be ready to face 2009 with open arms. Since it doesn't seem that I'll have my way, though, I'll have to get the most I can out of the Christmas season in the next 24 hours, I suppose.

With that, I'll leave you all (until tomorrow) with the real meaning of Christmas.

This is very unceremonial...

...for my 100th post.

But, blogger tells me that I've come back to this site 99 times and actually stuck with something. I should be proud of myself, I suppose. I'm the queen of ideas, but sort of suck at the follow through sometimes. That happens when you're ridiculously busy.

At any rate, I wanted to do something cool for my 100th post. To be honest with you, though, I've been in a really funky mood all week, and I don't really have the energy to be creative right now. I'll do something to celebrate next week.

For now, however, I will leave you with my weekend plans.

*I'll be putting the bloggy box in the mail to Pennsylvania.
*I'll have my nose in this literary gem
*I plan to do a whole lot of this:

*And I have big plans to go to Weber's Farm and spend some quality time with this cutie:


And with any luck, by the time Monday rolls around, I'll be 100% less a neurotic bundle of nerves.

Meme... not to be confused with même

I got tagged in a meme by Angela. Since I'm such an un-cool blogger and haven't been tagged before (as far as I know), I had to Wiki-search meme. Unsurprisingly, that article didn't help me. Well, it taught me how to IPA it, but that's about it. I'm guessing that this thing is just like a survey and I'll do what Angela did and hope that I haven't screwed anything up.

So apparently I'm supposed to say 6 random things about myself that I've never shared with y'all before. Here goes nothing.

1. I have this frivolous desire to be a socialite. Not to go out to clubs and be one of the cool kids, but to be invited to important events with influential people and have my engagement announcement in the society pages of the newspaper. Fortunately for me, no institution like that exists in Baltimore, so I can blame my geography for my silly dream never being realized.

2. I don't like women. With a few exceptions, I didn't have close female friendships until a few years ago. I still find myself forging closer relationships with men and having to be intentional about maintaining friendships with women.

3. I'm a closet music nerd. Like legitimate "classical" music of the Western Heritage. I feel like heaven rings with compositions by Debussy like these two.

4. I can't wait to have babies. Lots of them. I was an only child, so I want an obnoxiously large family. I'm also pretty sure that babysitting for a family with five children (or even three) for an extended period of time could easily reverse that notion.

5. People assume that I have a bad relationship with my father because I never talk about him. Really, I have a great relationship with him. He's just dead, and I don't like pouring salt into open wounds.

6. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I weren't busy. When I have down time at home, all I can manage to accomplish is a load or two of laundry before falling asleep.

Alrighty... now apparently I'm supposed to tag people.

-Rocketwife
-ExSchutz
-Kristin
-The Spotted Ottoman
-Kyla Bea
-Miss Musical

Meme away, peeps. Unless you don't want to. Fear not... I won't take it personally.

The hardest my brain has had to work since a MUSC 302 exam

I opened A Chorus Line this past weekend, and I must say that I'm so relieved to have opening night over and done with. It's been an extremely rewarding experience, but it's also been an exhausting one.

I work for a small theatre company, and as a result, everyone on staff wears a lot of hats. For the past two or three weeks especially, there have been a few of us running around like chickens with their heads cut off. And that's doing administrative business. Then comes showtime.

So when I got this gig at the good ol' Bawlmer thee-yater, I had a fair amount of experience as a musician, and a fair amount of experience as a theatre performer, but not really much as a music director. I'd watched people conduct before, but I hadn't really done much of it myself. For the past two years, I've been in a music directing trial-by-fire and have finally started getting kind of relatively decent at it. I've also worked with relatively the same personnel, so we've gotten to know each others' styles, strengths and weaknesses.

I'm not sure if I'm a glutton for punishment or just like a challenge, but apparently I waited until this show to pull out all of the stops. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I decided to conduct from the piano while playing 1st keyboard. Let me explain a little something to you that you might not know about good old Downbeats. My degree is in voice. I'm a singer who happened to take piano lessons for 14 years and then major in voice because I realized that I hated practicing piano for hours on end. My skills fell by the wayside in college, and started to get a little better of the past few years as I've been sitting behind a piano rehearsing theatre and teaching private voice lessons. I'm still by no means anywhere near as good as the pianists I hire.

Imagine just waking up in the morning with mittens on your hands and a raging hangover. That's how I play the piano in my most lucid of moments. Somehow, though, high school jazz band taught me to fake my complete unwillingness to play all of the notes on the page, and I can actually manage to play most of the score well enough to get by. That would be all fine and good if I wasn't CONDUCTING. AT. THE. SAME. TIME. I no haz that kind of hand-eye coordination. So this past week, working with new musicians and trying to land a plane while playing the piano drunk and making last minute fixes to the cast, my brain has completely short circuited.

As a result, I don't want to see words or music in print again until Friday. By then, hopefully the grey matter will have returned to semi normal. This will be all of the exercise my head needs from the atrophy it's experiencing not being in school for five years at least.... seriously.

Guess what happens tonight...

We open!

I wasn't sure it was going to happen. We put a show with original Broadway choreography on stage in 6 weeks on five 3-hour rehearsals a week. Earlier in the week, it was looking really rough earlier in the week, but stuff really came together last night at our final dress rehearsal. And now we are ready to open a show for which i'm extremely proud ot have been an integral part of.

And jjust think... once we get this baby opened, I can return to the world of the blogosphere.

Parties for Good Causes

The last two weekends, I've been invited to parties with ulterior motives for goodness, and both of them have inspired me to be a little less selfish in my celebration.

Two weekends ago, a close family friend had a birthday party. She throws a big shindig every year for her girlfriends, and this is the first year that I've been able to join along. She's very socially and politically conscious, and tries to add an educational component to each of her parties. This year, before the festivities really got underway, she invited her OB/GYN to come down and give everyone a little talk on how to detect and prevent breast cancer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a basement surrounded by middle aged women learning the correct way to administer a self breast exam. When I thought about it that way, I'll admit I was more than a little weirded out. But once I stepped back from the situation and thought about it, I realized how selfless that act really was. That my friend wanted to celebrate her birthday by getting the people who matter to her together and teach them life-saving skills.

Just when I thought that I was done with the do-gooding, I was invited to attend a party last week to benefit a campaign at the Maestro's main gig. I love a party just like the next girl, but occasionally I do start feeling like being the Maestro's arm candy is my third full-time job. This party was different, though. One of the Maestro's co-workers actually opened up her home to have a cocktail party for a worthy cause. This isn't the first time that she's done it either. She threw a huge fête for her 50th and requested that all of her guests give money in her honor to the annual fund of their organization.

I don't think that I've ever been that unselfish in my life. Every November I get annoyed by all of the commercialism surrounding the secular Christmas that we celebrate in this country and flirt with the idea of giving alternative gifts to my friends and family. Who knows... maybe this year I flirt a little harder with the idea because of these two awesome ladies.

I do still exist... really!

I know I've been MIA. I kind of apologized after all, remember? Well it wasn't really a proper apology, but I have still felt bad nonetheless and missed all of my bloggy friends.

I'll be brief because I'm in the midst of tech week, but here are a few updates:
1. We still don't know who gave us the flowers at the office, but we've narrowed it down to the two newest members of our office staff. One's an older man and one's a middle-aged woman. My bet is on the woman, but everyone in the office has a different opinion.

2. The Maestro informed me that apparently the beer that I won at auction is completed! I named it from a suggestion that was left in the comments, and I should be having a beer tasting party Chez Downbeats within the next couple of weeks. After it's unveiled at the party, I'll let you all know how it went here.

3. I'm taking part in an exchange of stuff that is aptly named the Traveling Bloggy Box of Goodness that this cool chica named Kristin thought up. When I get my box, I can promise you a super exciting post about all of that specialness.

4. I haven't updated you on my home improvement exploits as of late, but I can tell you proudly and with certainty that my house is still clean and pretty. I've entertained friends from work at girlfriends for wine and crackers more than once in the past few months. That in itself is a small victory. I got a new sliding glass door for the door going out to the balcony. It's very pretty, but I must insist that none of you ever use Home Depot to get anything installed in your house ever. Love the door, hated the service. I killed 2.5 of the 4 plants that I got in July. One of the azaleas I think just hated its placement in the sun. The large elephant-eared greens I bought are probably just dying off with the colder weather. Still, my balcony was less than pretty, so when Mama Downbeats was in town the week before last, she bought some gorgeous mums to put in my Chinese goldfish pots. I'll take some pictures and show you later.

5. Finally, I'm in tech... as I've probably mentioned ad nauseum. As a result, I am completely incapable of concentrating on anything other than breathing and putting a quality show up on stage. While this process has been relatively drama free, it's still been pretty high pressure and stressful. It's gonna be a great show, though... probably one of my proudest since I started music directing a few years back.

But there's what I've been up to. Tell me, what's been going on in your lives? Anything new and exciting?

Next up on the social balance game...

I'm going to just come out and say it. I have too many friends. I'm not saying that to toot my own horn or to make myself sound popular. In fact, my packed social calendar is probably detrimental to my closest relationships. It's certainly detrimental to my (at many times non-existent) relationship with my own family.

I'm a social pack rat. I meet people. We become fast friends. I try my darndest to stay in touch with them. But because there are so many people I consider friends, my time outside of the office and theatre is constantly spent trying to spend time with these people. Catching up on old times. Attempting to forge new memories. I make a rotation of people I need to see before the end of the calendar year, and I probably get to 60% of the list. With each passing year, people fall off of my social radar simply because I have no time to invest in a relationship with them, and I feel defeated.

And then there's the Maestro. When we started dating 3.5 years ago, we thought we had a lot of mutual friends. We were only half right. We had a lot of mutual friends, but we had a lot of people in our lives who weren't in that middle section of the Venn diagram. So now all of the Maestro's close friends are my close friends and vice versa. At least the friends who made it through tree-shaking eliminations, that is. So I went from having a few high school friends, and a few more college friends, and music friends, and theatre friends, and musical theatre friends to having to add to that the Maestro's friends. And then we got couple friends and I almost wanted to kill myself. And now that I've stepped back from the ledge, I still find myself ridiculously overwhelmed trying to fit them all in. I might get shot or condemned or whatever for saying this, but I think that being super social can actually be just as lonely as having no friends at all.

This weekend past was the last free weekend before the madness of promotional performances, community outreach, tech rehearsals, and performances for me. It happened to fall in line with the last free weekend before the Maestro's ever-expanding concert season starts. We had plans to go to Kent Island on Friday to visit some friends who are building a new house. If you follow me on Twitter, you might remember on Friday the saga of the 7.5 mile Bay Bridge backup (try saying that three times fast) that caused us to stay in Baltimore instead. We did find a new watering hole that excites me and accidentally bumped into good friends. That little accident scratched them off the list of people to spend QT with before Christmas.

After a four-hour rehearsal on Saturday, I had an evening scheduled to the minute intending to scratch a few more names off the list. I went from a birthday crab feast to dinner with a whole bunch of girls. At said dinner, when I explained why I wasn't particularly hungry but happy to be there nonetheless, one of my dinner companions remarked on how it sounded like I was trying to do too much and say yes to too many people.

Oh friend. How wrong you are! I spend most of my day saying "no" to people I love and care about. I turn down more invitations and proposals than you'll ever know. And still, my heart breaks from this attrition of good quality friends and professional contacts. I guess if I quit theatre or quit my job I could keep up with people better. But then I'd be poor and angry and unfulfilled, and that wouldn't do anyone any good.

So for now, I'll keep on trucking through my list of people to see. I'll try to not accept any applications for new friends. Unless they're bloggy friends, that is. I'm all up for some more of those (hint, hint: De-lurk and say hello some time! It'll brighten my day, I promise you). And next up on the social balance game? Maybe seeing some of my family before Thanksgiving. There's wishful thinking for you.

I still have the mosquito bites to prove I was there...

I think I've mentioned it a few times in the last few entries, but a good friend (and sister of the Fourth of July groom) got married in an outdoor ceremony on Labor Day.

The ceremony was held outside at a church ampitheatre in picturesque Ellicott City, MD. It seriously couldn't have been a more beautiful day. In fact, I think that people should invite the Maestro and I to their outdoor weddings. We seem to bring good weather with us. The bride's siblings provided the special music during the ceremony on acoustic guitar.



The bride and groom appeared peaceful as they looked on.



The Labor Day bridegroom did two particularly unique things for their atypical wedding:

1. Instead of a guestbook that has the potential to sit on a shelf collecting dust for years to come, the couple asked guests to sign a platter commemorating their day. Every time they have friends over to their new house in North Carolina and pull out this platter, they'll be reminded of their wedding and the people in their lives who love them.



2. Instead of a traditional towering wedding cake, guests enjoyed cupcakes on a tower. I've seen cupcakes on Style network wedding shows recently that have incorporated cupcakes into their dessert scheme, but this still wound up coming off original nonetheless. Cupcakes were yellow with chocolate or white icing and chocolate with chocolate or white icing. When the Maestro asked me what kind of cupcake I wanted, I replied, "The whitest possible cupcake, please!" not realizing how ridiculous I sounded until the words came out of my mouth and several people left the room howling in laughter. The cupcake tower had a huge cupcake with a cake topper at the crest for the couple.



The couple didn't want any big wedding traditions at the reception. There was no garter or bouquet toss, no electric slide. We basically had a picnic on the lawn adjacent to the amptitheatre and the historic Hebron House mansion.

The couple left straight for their Disney honeymoon from the reception. We waited around outside with bottles of bubbles to send them on their way.



The Maestro and I were still smiling by the end of the evening.



I consider that a small victory.

The miracle of life

In the time that we've been friends and subsequently more than that, the Maestro has exposed me to many an experience I might not have had in life otherwise. He's predominately responsible for my love affair with Baltimore City, and he also introduced me to the Maryland State Fair a few years back.

I'm not particularly one for produce or livestock on a regular basis. I have, however, come to appreciate the fact that the fair comes around once a year and it's an excuse to eat fried dough and say goodbye-byes to summer. We went to the fair last Friday after work, and since it was raining like crazy, we grabbed dinner at The Still first with the family.

When the rain died down, we finally headed across the street to the fairground to see as much as we could in the time left. We checked out the produce and home arts. That was all fine and good. But then we grabbed some ice cream and headed to the Cow Palace, which is where the magic happens. They have this thing called the "Birthing Center" where they induce pregnant farm animals so that curious onlookers such as myself can observe a new life coming into the world.

This exact scenario played out as we entered the Birthing Center on Friday night. The men watched for a little bit, but then got distracted by piglets in a nearby pen. We all started losing our patience (cows can be in labor for a long time apparently), so we decided to browse the rest of the livestock while we were waiting for this heiffer to pop.

The Maestro found greatest interest with the pigs. He got super excited when he saw one particular pair of pigs sleeping in the same pen. He called them a 21st century couple.



By the time we got back to mama cow, two hooves were protruding from her backside. 30 minutes later, and there was a baby calf lying on ground of the pen with many a happy onlooker. I think they wound up calling the cute little bull calf "Travis."



I'm surprised PETA wasn't outside picketing the farmers for shipping this poor cow into the fair, inducing her labor, and then putting the birth on public display, but it was definitely a really unique experience. I don't think it's convinced me away from buying a cute little biracial baby off the black market and into pregnancy and childbirth on my own accord, but it was a unique experience nonetheless.

My plea to whomever controls the campus budget for next year

I would make a horrible visual artist. I don't find beauty in many random things. As a result, sometimes I confuse exterior art installations for, well, mistakes. Can someone please tell me if these random bricks lying outside of the theatre are someone's college art project?



And furthermore, can someone explain to me why the powers that be at the institute of higher learning where our theatre is housed decided to lay a random amoeba of concrete in the ground surrounded by a moat of decorative stones?



At least they've placed these beautiful/humongous planters outside of the lobby to try to take away from all of the other randomness that is occuring as one approaches the building.



If the college has money to throw around on random patches of "decorative" cement as it appears they do, I would encourage them to throw a little money my way for a brand new freakin' sound system, please and thank you. Just a suggestion.

In other news, I'll be MIA over the Labor Day weekend. Another friend of mine is getting married. Fifth and final of the summer, thank goodness. A wedding recap will undoubtedly be up some time next week because I know you all are quivering in your boots, eagerly anticipating pictures of me and the Maestro cutting up a rug as grandma jumps up and down to hip hop.

Have a happy and healthy Labor Day weekend!

Are you the dream?

"...America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked 'insufficient funds.' But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice."
--Martin Luther King, Jr.

45 years ago today, a really amazing man gave a momentous speech in front of hundreds of thousands of citizens unhappy with the way that things had been done. These people were tired of the hypocrisy that was being espoused by their leaders, their elders, and their neighbors. So they gathered in Washington, D.C. in droves for a completely non-violent demonstration that culminated in a speech that some might say changed the face of our nation.

While I'm sad that he can't be around to see his dreams come to fruition, I'm filled with an immense pride that so many boxes on Dr. King's dream check list can now be checked off.

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." Check!

"One day... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers." Check!

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." Check. Check. And more check.

45 years later, freedom is ringing from the "prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire," the "mighty mountains of New York," the "heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania" and so forth and so on. To be able to live a life that is a testament to a vision that one remarkable man had in a not-so-distant past that my parents can remember continues to blow my mind. That the color of my skin was neither a hindrance nor a burden to me is a blessing. That I can walk down the street hand-in-hand with my super white boyfriend occasionally takes my breath away in the wake of the fact that my mother went to a segregated high school. That I can call my friends of all colors, shapes, sizes, socioeconomic backgrounds, faiths and creeds my sisters and brothers brings me an amazing joy.

But 45 years later, the work still isn't done. I'm fortunate to live in an environment that is accepting of all people. I know that it's not that way everywhere. Not everyone can marry their soulmate free from a world of intolerance and hatred. Not everyone can be friends with whomever they please. 35 years later, we still fight to keep things like Jena from happening. Hatred still oozes from groups like the Westboro Baptist Church into our everyday lives. But just when we take two steps back, we always take at least one step in the right direction.

So I implore you to not let the day go by without at least remembering where we, as a nation, came from and where we, as a nation, still have yet to go. And after you think on that for a little bit, strive to continue being the dream that Dr. King articulated all those years ago.

If you haven't heard/read that famous speech, or it's been awhile since you have, you can read a full transcription here.

How to vacation on the cheap

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Hopefully someone out there missed me. I must say that this past trip, however mundane some people might think it was, left me recharged. I'm not totally ready to go back to the office, but I'm absolutely stoked about starting rehearsals for A Chorus Line tonight.

Here's a brief (hopefully) recap of the trip with some lessons learned in the process.

We left on Tuesday night after work. The Maestro picked me up, we packed my luggage and clubs in his car and went on our merry way. At about 6 pm on a Tuesday evening, the roads weren't too packed. We headed to Bedford, Pennsylvania and had dinner with some friends from college. We hung around and watched the Olympics with them for a bit, got a tour of their new house, and got back on the road. We arrived in Indiana, Pennsylvania (Maestro's mama's hometown) a little after 11 and found our way to his grandparents' house.

Wednesday, we took our time getting up and Maestro's grandma made us breakfast. In passing, he asked her how long she'd been married to his grandfather, jogging her memory to remind her that today was in fact their 59th wedding anniversary. I'm so glad we kids were around to keep them honest. I lounged around a bit and tried to convince the Maestro's grandfather that Barack Obama doesn't have terrorist ties while Maestro took a walk into downtown Indiana. When we finally got on the road, we drove around for a little bit and then found a Par 3 executive golf course right out of town. Thank goodness it was only par 3 golf... because I haven't golfed in quite awhile. My clubs were dusty and my drive was even dustier. We had fun, nonetheless. We went to a huge church pot luck (300 people... seriously the biggest pot luck I've ever seen in my life) at the Maestro's grandparent's parish. In return for telling the priest that it was their 59th anniversary, he put the Maestro on the spot and had him sing "O Danny Boy" for a riveted audience. The Maestro wasn't pleased, but sometimes you suck it up for the people you love, eh? We came back home and played a round or two of cards with the grandparents and tried to get them to not make out.

Ahhh... young love.


Eventually they came up for air so that I could take a picture with them.


On Thursday, we tried to get an early start so that we could head into Pittsburgh. But by tried, I mean failed, and by "we," I mean the Maestro. We finally headed out a little after noon, and changed plans slightly. We headed instead to Grove City College to visit a friend who had just moved back on to campus for the school year. Clearly, he's getting a lot accomplished at school.



He feigned some excuse about being in some orientation leader skit at school. I'm still thinking about showing his mother and staging an intervention.

We hit the outlets outside the city for a few minutes and then headed back to Indiana to grab dinner with the Maestro's pap pap. Grandma, you see, had abandoned him for the day to go the casinos.

By Friday morning, we still liked one another. This in itself was a small victory as I don't think we'd seen each other that many full days in a row in three months. The Maestro's grandma made us a fantastic breakfast and sent us on our way with a gallon bag full of white chocolate-covered trail mix. I think grandmas secretly want everyone but them to be fat. That woman stuffed me to within an inch of my life over two days. At any rate, we left Indiana and headed for Troy. No, not best friend-of-mine Troy, but Troy, Pennsylvania. It's a pretty long trek, but we took a scenic route and made stops along the way. Noteworthy pit stops were in Punxsutawney (home of Punxsutawney Phil and Groundhog Day) and The Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. It was a nice leisurely trip.





As we got closer and closer to Aunt Jean and Uncle Dwayne's house, I smelled more pig manure, rode on more dirt roads, and saw more waving Confederate flags than I think I've experienced in my lifetime. My phone lost service, and I'll admit I heard banjos in my head coming after me. When we got to our destination, however, it was great. I haven't seen the stars like I've seen up at their house in years, and it was beautiful to be in the middle of nowhere for a little bit. Aunt Jean cooked us a fantastic dinner and we played a board game and watched the Olympics for a little bit.

When we got up on Saturday morning, we had a hearty breakfast and headed over to a cousin's house and met their new puppies. They were adorable and I begged the Maestro to bring one home. He looked at me like I had crazy all over my face. How can you say no to these little guys, though?



We had one of the most scenic drives home on Saturday. We were a little under the gun, but it was completely worth it.




So what did we learn on our trip?

1. Leave as soon as possible. Being musicians, The Maestro and I are both night owls. We don't have a problem being up late... in fact, we're used to it. Leaving after work afforded us the opportunity to wake up at our first destination. It extended our days of true vacation from three to four solely by getting on the road as soon as we possibly could.

2. Stay with friends and family. We killed two birds with one stone by staying with family: we saved TONS of money that would've otherwise gone to hotel and restaurant bills and got to spend time with friends and family we rarely see. It wasn't our plan to mooch off of people. It was our intention to thank our hosts by taking them out to dinner, but all of them had already made plans to prepare home-cooked meals for us.

3. Don't be afraid to veg out. Not every vacation is about cramming as much as humanly possible into each day. The Maestro and I got a fair amount accomplished, but we also made sleep a huge priority (something we don't get a lot of in our day-to-day lives). I was equally as comfortable in National parks and on the golf course as I was sitting on the couch and walking America's Next Top Model reruns. And I went to bed early (for me) every night to ensure at least 8 hours of sleep.

4. Lay some basic plans, but be flexible. Don't be afraid if it doesn't all get done. This time is supposed to be about relaxing and rejuvenating-- not about crossing line items off a list. We didn't get to Pittsburgh, but we also didn't get upset about it. We found other things to keep us occupied and satisfied.

And there it is, kids. For the price of 3 gallons of gas, and a cheap meal or two on the road, we had an amazingly satisfying getaway. It wasn't a Vegas vacation or trip to Cabo like some of the smart people with money non-musicians I went to school with are enjoying now, but it was perfect for us.

Getting Away

I feel like I've spent so much of my waking "spare" time this summer away from Baltimore. I've been to Boston, Connecticut, and Ocean City. I've gotten away for a few days to Southern Maryland and the Eastern Shore. I have yet, however, to go on a proper summer holiday, and it's already halfway through August. I used the majority of my time off from work to go to Italy with the madre, girlfriend Feen, and her mamala in March, and since the entire world is getting married this summer, money isn't exactly spectacular at the moment. Still, I think that holiday replenishes the soul... like a secular sabbath.

So The Maestro and I decided that we would remind ourselves of what one another look like get away for a few days before the new semester starts and he holes up in the world of academia. We leave tonight for a road trip through points north of the Mason-Dixon line. I have a few posts scheduled so that you all don't forget that I exist, but I'll be updating more prevalently on Twitter, so if you're not already, you should consider following me @bmoredownbeats. And I'll undoubtedly re-cap the whole sordid affair when I return to Baltimore. Have a great week!