Feeling: polyphonic
Listening to: humming Hu Elohenu... I need help.
Reading/Watching: Return of the King

B'rosh Hashanah. Today was five hours of singing in Hebrew, followed by the mad dash to school to make up a Geology test.

While taking the test in my professor's office, he had the classical music station on his radio, and right around question 28 on the test, I recognized the song playing.

I grinned, and said to my professor, "I've sung this."

He looked up from his work. "What?"

"This song? It's Chichester Psalms by Bernstein. I sang it in high school."

He smiled placatingly and nodded, going back to grading tests, but I sat there and felt all kinds of special for recognizing the music. I even paused for a minute to enjoy the second movement, which is my favorite.

This is part of why I love music. Listening to it reminded me of being sixteen, and making faces at Edward in the tenor section from across a crowded auditorium of 200 voices. It makes me miss the Region Choir clinics- an entire weekend of singing, surrounded by amazing voices.

And I know someday I'll be 30, and hear a scrap of Sh'ma Yisrael or Uva Shofar Gadol and remember the little Jewish choir from this year. It's like having space-time continuums programmed into your psyche. Hear a measure or two, and you're teleported.

Music pretty much sums up all that I've been doing for the past week, so I tend to be breathing and sleeping it at the moment. Between rehearsals, gigs, lessons, and substituting for the conductor while he's sick, I'm on a total high. Pardon me if it's monochromatic.

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