The adventures of Miss Despina

I think I’ve finally decided what I’m going to do with my last year of uni. It’s a question of balance between the singing and the academic. Too little singing and not only will it be bad for my career in that I’ll get no experience and no-one will hear me, I may also shrivel up and die. Too much singing and I’ll either have a repeat of last November where I almost went crazy with rehearsals and coursework, or I’ll fail uni.

Firstly the academic stuff:

• No dissertation.
• Instead I’ll take Italian level 2, since that’s the only thing I’m very good at in uni, and do a project about something that interests me.
• Maybe begin learning Spanish on the side, if I can get it funded again.

Work experience:

• It’s not as glam as Prague, but I’m going to try and do some work in the media centre of the Alliance Francaise in Manchester. Which reminds me I should probably email them.
• Get a part-time library job. So I actually know what it’s all about.
• Be a personal assistant to the director of a show. Which basically means looking after his diary, and doing jobs he would rather delegate than do himself. The advantages of this are manifold for both of us: for me, experience, for him, relative sanity.
• No stupid shop-jobs. I’d rather put 9 hours a day towards passing the final year of my degree and having a good time doing my thing.

Then the singing stuff:

• Apparently a local cathedral choir is desperate for sopranos. They rehearse on Wednesday nights so it wouldn’t be a case of weekly sight-singing. I’ve been having withdrawal symptoms from Catholic mass, and to be involved in something so prestigious would be a brilliant experience for me. I could also fit it in around the other singing I do.
• No Bugsy Malone in November, even though my society at uni is doing it. I’ve got 3 concerts around that time, with different repertoire in each, and I’ll have a heavy workload too. So I’m contenting myself with being PA to the director.
• A cabaret and a lunchtime recital already booked for November. I stupidly undersold myself for the cabaret and am struggling to find a pianist. But I’m being heard again, after too many months away!
• Lots of singing with the wonderful opera group I’m in in Manchester. The standard is excellent as we are all proper singers, and because everyone is good, no-one is competing, and the atmosphere is productive and positive. Next concert in December.
• A part in Iolanthe in April 2008. I say a part, because I’m a good enough singer, and if I don’t get a part, there’s no point spending all that time and effort on a production that means nothing on my CV.
• See my singing teacher again, religiously. It’s so long since I saw her, I hope things will still be ok between us, and that she’ll understand I’ve been ill and stressed and busy and not had anything to work up to. We shall see.
• Will try to get my Wedding Singer business off the ground. I have a series of marketing strategies up my sleeve, so that I can actually earn from my singing instead of a few quid here and there. This would benefit me in so many ways.

And then in summer, hopefully I will graduate and have to face the real world! No, save me!

I woke up late this morning. So I disregarded the snooze and decided that if I was going to be late I might as well be properly late. (By the way, does anyone else find the word snooze a bit too surreal for the time of the day you usually see it? It looks like it’s spelt wrong or something, it looks like Czech, my favourite language - not.) Then I bummed about and had coffee and rice cakes and somehow got on the bus at 8:30 which meant I would actually arrive here at the museum for 9.

To shut out the crowd on the bus, I put on my CD of Special Music That makes Despina Go To Sleep (Michael Nyman string quartet 3, Schubert string quintet in C - both used to fantastic effect in the film Carrington - and some pieces from The blue notebook by Max Richter that just wash over you). I was sitting there with my eyes closed happily soaking up the gorgeous strings of Schubert, until suddenly my peace was disturbed by a tinny metal beat, eminating from the "personal" stereo of the girl across the aisle from me. I turned up the second movement Schubert and thought no more about it, but couldn’t help looking at this girl who was so grumpy-looking, and wondering what emotional benefits this angry music could possibly be giving her.

Then the Schubert crescendoed to dizzying heights of intensity. I closed my eyes and glorified in having a soul big enough to absorb this music and have a deep emotional response to it. The capacity to feel music so deeply that it changes my life is so precious to me. I don’t know why I love this particular piece of Schubert so much, but it is just so perfect, it moves me beyond tears. Perhaps it’s the slightly unpredictable tonality, the gentle repetition of the rhythms, and the balance of outpouring, drama and restraint. Well, just listen to it anyway.

Preparing to get off the bus, I opened my eyes, and found that the beautiful young couple sitting in front of me were smiling at me kindly. I hope that they’d picked up on my inner peace, and not just decided I was a mentalist.