Friday, November 15, 2013
Not that I am counting the minutes or anything . . .
My recital is tomorrow evening. It will begin, in fact, in just under twenty-one hours. In twenty-four hours it will be Mission Accomplished. I had my run-through at 5:00 tonight. I quickly played through my pieces except for my encore. I'm still undecided on that one. I'm reserving the right to make up my mind at the last minute. For that matter, I'm reserving the right to change my program at the last minute. I've printed up six separate programs with the six possible sequences of selections. It's mostly only the order that is in doubt, though I do reserve the right to change my modern piece, as I have a couple of other modern selections ready to go. It cost me roughly an extra two-hundred dollars to do that, but I've conserved throughout my entire college experience, so I don't feel guilty in the least about the frivolity of having extra programs printed. For that matter, if I wake up tomorrow morning and want to change things into a seventh sequence, I'll switch the order around on my laptop, add anything that isn't already there, remove anything I don't want, print out another program, and send one of my minions to a print shop no make copies of a seventh edition of my printed program. My professor is stressing out a bit about my indecision, but that is his problem, not mine. There are probably twenty pieces I could substitute in at the last minute that I've known for what seems like forever.
Ma and Pa are at a bed and breakfast up the road an hour or so. They're having some sort of romantic mini-getaway. (I'm aware that it's a mildly nauseating concept. Try not to visualize.)It will have to be a very short escape on their part, as: a, it would be incredibly rude for them not to be in attendance at my recital; and b, they are needed to pay for the food and libations at the post-recital bash. They say they'll be back by shortly past noon, and they're not even ninety minutes away. In a worst-case scenario, they could probably hitchhike home and still make it to the recital on time.
Predictably enough, I came down with a killer headache with no parent close enough to prescribe potent drugs. Were it not for my recital tomorrow, I'd be willing to take my chances with Extra Strength Excedrin, but I can't risk having a gastric upset tomorrow from the effects of aspirin on the lining of my duodenum. I'm at the pseudorelatives' home, which normally would provide a solution to my problem, but pseudouncle is in the midst of a 24-hour shift, so I'd have to go to the hospital if I wanted any help from him. I called in a favor from my shrink instead. Chairman Mao is on his way with the good stuff and should be here any minute.
Tomorrow evening I will wear the black dress that is pictured here. My brother thinks I look like a Goth version of a Von Trapp child in the dress, but I've never before based my wardrobe choices on my brother's opinions, so why should I start now?
My friend Alyssa -- Jared's cousin and psuedouncle's niece -- is spending the night here at the pseudorelatives' home, too. We're babysitting pseudoaunt. Pseudoaunt's brother Timmy will be here really late tonight, as in maybe by 2:00 a.m. at the very earliest. I most likely won't be asleep by then. If I'm tired tomorrow I can either sleep late or nap for more than half the day if I feel the need. Other than making final preparations on the printed program if I decide to do something different than any of the six of the programs already printed, and besides making myself presentable for the recital, I have nothing to do. If I'm unconscious for half the day, it will make the time pass faster.
Alyssa is doing my nails as soon as Chairman Mao has given me the headache medication. Her aunt is a cosmetician or cosmetologist or aesthetician or whatever those people who do hair, nails, makeup, and the rest are presently calling themselves. The aunt has taught Alyssa many of her techniues. If Alyssa had her way, she'd be slapping 3/4-inch fake nails onto my existing fingernails, but I do have to play the piano with them tomorrow. My nails aren't filed to the quick, as some pianists' would be in my situation, because I have slighty odd-shaped fingertips that won't allow nails to be cropped too closely, so I play with more of a flat-fingered technique than do most pianists. I'm unsure as to what I'm going to allow Alyssa to apply to my fingernails. She would love bright red or black, but I'm thinking more along the lines of pink or pearly white. She brought with her an array of polish shades, so I won't lack options. If we can't decide, pseudoaunt will decide for me because I trust her taste and judgment. She's conservative when it comes to nail polish and should know what would be appropriate for the featured artist in a recital.
Chairman Mao is here. Mingtian jian ("see you tomorrow" in English-alphabet Mandarin).