When you give your voice

This Christmas season I have decided to do something a bit different and out of the ordinary. I haven’t really had many Christmas plans over the last few years. I’ve been living abroad for the better part of the last 6 years, and that can often times be a very lonely feeling.

I haven’t been so successful with my social life since moving to Sweden, and as the days counted down closer to the Christmas holiday, I was left wondering what I should do. Faced with the options of being home alone, I decided that it wasn’t a good idea for me. And so I decided to give.

The only thing, apart from my usual donations during the holiday season, that I could think to donate is my time and my voice. Thus I committed to volunteering to sing for my choir’s Christmas events. This involved an afternoon mass, a midnight mass, and then Christmas Day mass. It was a lot of a singing, and a lot of time. I even had to stay in a hotel from the 24th to the 25th since trains didn’t run with enough time for me to go back and forth to home.

I guess it’s good to provide to others and help others enjoy or celebrate an important event, but I couldn’t help feeling very selfish and lonely during the time. I basically didn’t interact with anyone, did my singing, and then went back to my hotel after a bit of a long walk.

I felt like it was important for me to give, because otherwise I would be doing nothing. But I was faced with a strange situation: first of all I’m not really all that religious and the amount of times I sing in a choir in the last year greatly outweighs the amounts of times that I’ve actually been to a church in my entire life. But what is so striking is when the head priest at the cathedral where I sing, said to me “Weren’t you here all day yesterday too?” and my response was “Yes” she looked at me with a bit of a perplexed look on her face, as if to suggest that I should be somewhere else.

I’m not sure if it was thanks, confusion, or pity but it was certainly something and it made me think. In any event, I’m happy that I did something and being a stranger among strangers is a very strange experience. But thank you to Västerås Domkyrka for allowing me to be apart of its community and to donate my time towards a greater cause.

In summary, it certainly is a theme to my life of late; but the question remains “Where should I be?”

Weekly recap

I have been horirbly neglectful; but I have totally valid reasons for it, I swear! I had three finals, two presentations, and a recital last week, and after the week I just wanted to fall down and die. I also had choir rehersals, a choir performance on Saturday night, a practical blizard came through Sackville, and my life is a total mess.

The week just consisted of non-stressful anxiety attacks, whether it be from my horrible events in my social life, or because of the exams. I’ve become frigid for my revolutionary litterature class; I’ve never not cared so much about something in my life. I just as well might fail the class but it doesn’t bother me at all, because I’m sick of the teacher. Not only is she not professional, but I’ve lost complete interest in the course because I’m made to feel like a blump on a log.

It’s great for the confidence to have a professor constanly ignore you, say you’re stupid in a complex way, or not allow you to do anything. I wouldn’t be lying if I said that I’m not allowed to smile, breathe, move, or make sudden gesures because it’s too “disruptive.” So then I just as well not breathe, and then we’d be set; right?

Failed the two finals for that course no doubt; because I just didn’t care! Other than that, to celebrate my ridness of that heinous prof, I went out on Friday with Greg and Jody, and went to Jack’s after the pub. It was really fun, and I was happy because we just sorta lounged around and then had a great time dancing and talking. Apparently I talk too much, but it was funny. We have photographic proofs, and videos too…

As you can notice, the themes of th evening were scandelous, and gossipy; thus altogether debauchery! It was just classic, and a good night-all around. The following day, Saturday night was fab as well, as I went to the pub with Craig and Hussian, and we had this lovely pink drink, and then more fuzzy peach drink, and in a flurry of everything my recent love interest arrived. It made me have an anxiety attack, especially when people started calling their name while I was right there… WTF mates?

So I danced, and my crush was either checking me out, Hussian out, or someone behind us, but it’s highly unlikely. I saw them talking to Marianne, and I was going to go steal his spot when she left, but it didn’t happen and thus Osky fails, yet again. Amber was really drunk, and she got some dirt, none of which was any good anyways, so I’m still caught in this limbo state of the unknown and it’s driving me crazy.

I’m having anxiety attacks this morning, but at least I wasn’t stupid enough to poke random people on Facebook that I don’t even know! God; what an idiot I can be!

Trashy, trashy Kehl

I knew that going to Era again would be quite the experience. And the experience it quitely was. We embarked on our journey to Alfred Weiss on Friday at about 21.00 and got there at about half-nine, because it’s so damned far away in the sketchiest part of Strasbourg. Funny enough I found out where the really gross places are, like where all the Eastern-European prostitutes are. And also where the gypsies live; oh Strasbourg how divers thou art.

We got to Era in our normal taxi stuff, and it was jumping, that is to say lots of trashy people that I really didn’t want to deal with. What is the cure for this you ask; 1€ drinks galoore. So I just downed them like crazy in hopes that I would become drunk enough to deal with the grossness of the German-French people. Nope. It was horrible, so we left early and everyone was pretty sober except Ginette, who is poor and got everyone to pay for all her stuff;  no comment.

All in all a night that was just a flop.

Saturday night was better, we went to Salamadre and I spent money on vodka-caramel; you’re my lover. I had an awesome time and met a bunch of really funny Germans. In the process I got Ginette in social problems by calling her on a lie; that’s her problem. She’s afraid of Europeans!

We went to Winterbourg, in Lorraine yesterday for a choir performance in this tiny little protestant church. It was quite lovely and everything; so I had a good time despie the horrible weather. We all carpooled and I spent the whole day with my choir, in other words all French people. They are all really nice, but with difficult names to remember, except Olivier, cause I love that name. Oh and Stéphanie, that’s easy! Anyways, they served us cake and these amazing little fruits from Lorraine’s history which I loved. They were citris prunes or something, but the excess of cake is what killed me. I was exhausted from coming home, and my voice hurt after singing for 1 full hour without break or water. Oh well, I need to train myself; I sang fairly well though! Yay go me.  

Week 2: February

What an excessively long week that just happens to come to an end thankfully. I got a cold on Tuesday evening thanks to someone who I have no idea, but I am not impressed. The good thing about this was that I only started to feel it Tuesday night before going to bed, and since I don’t have classes on Wednesday it turns out all really good. I layed in bed and rested for the entire time and developped a love for the show Ugly Betty. It’s so cheesy that it’s funny in a cute way that I can’t quite understand. I just can’t stop watching it, so much that I found the entire season and watched it all on Friday after class.

The worst part about being sick was that I really wanted to go to the Skating Extravaganza that Ginette organized. So I was feeling better and left the boring class early, so I went skating and it was a lots of fun. I love skating, but the blades are so dull that it’s just about impossible to do; so I feel sorry for anyone who can’t skate well. There was this really annoying guy with these weird skates that make tricks, and he kept trying to trip people so we were going to try to trip him since he’s an asswhole, but we didn’t manage to as he left before us.

In other exciting news there was a huge group of Welsh people there who couldn’t speak a word of French and thefore renting skates for them was a sturggle. We taught them numbers and the ladies behind the desk laughed at us. Whatever, I feel like a better person for doing it and so all is swell. Afterwards we went to WokThaï and ate some chicken and Saté with noodles. It was expensive but it was alright and a quick food before going to choir.

So I went to choir at the university and the people were a little less rude this time, but the songs made me so happy. They can’t sing English songs since it’s too difficult for pronounciation, but then the Old French song was difficult for me. It was called “Le Chant des Oyseaux” and yes I know the spelling is wrong, but it’s Old French so don’t complain! The song requires the tenors to have a very high range, but with a scratchy throat I was just plain struggling the whole time. It was fun though, and then I went to sleep. Sleep is so good and I love it more than anything.

I went shopping on Friday as well and I spent 13€ and my bag was full; and I don’t know how I managed it. I need refills on Orange Juice and milk, as well as eggs because I’ve developped a burning desire for omlettes. So what is an omlette anyways? For me it’s bacon, eggs, and cheese. It’s so basic, but so nice, but the ones I make are so greasy, but I don’t care because I need to put on weight anyways. However, having said that I need to make sure I look fine for Saturday night.

Elle is holding a bad-taste party, so I’m busting out the scandelous outfits and making sure I clash like no other. I will be the only one in theme I bet, but I don’t care because I probably wont be let into Salamandre anyways. We shall see, and on top of all this Melodifestivalen in Göteborg is tonight, and I won’t be seeing it until Sunday.