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I haven’t posted in a few days. I’ve been feeling a little melancholy, now that vacation is over (though there will be another in a month and a half!) and I’m back to actually living a life in Paris. I fell off my New Year’s Resolution wagon yesterday after an 8-hour choir rehearsal, to which the only answer was peanut M&Ms. Whoops. I’ve been sleeping late and napping a lot, and trying not to spend too much money, and it’s all been a big ball of Parisian stress.

But a good voice lesson makes everything better. (Remember singing? I still do it sometimes!)

One of the greatest feelings in the world is when you know that your voice teacher is as invested in and excited about working with you as you are about working with him or her. Today in my lesson as we were working on a vocalise for diminuendo (getting softer, in layman’s terms!), Madame said to me, “Can’t you get another grant for next year?” And you know something? If a great voice teacher were all I needed to feel fulfilled, I would stay in Paris just to work with her. It’s sort of like at the end of my last musicology class in college, when my professor asked me what I was going to do next, and I said I wanted to focus on performance, and he said, “Well, don’t drop the musicology–you have a real aptitude for it!” Which of course made me (momentarily) want to get my act together and go get my PhD, though a few minutes later I was back to pursuing an opera career, which is of course so much more practical than going into academia…anyway. It probably didn’t hurt that today we worked on pieces that present no extreme technical or stylistic difficulties. There’s nothing worse than a voice lesson on something that just isn’t working.

I’m experiencing a little bit of writer’s block and this post is just not taking shape in any way, so I think I’ll cut it short. Suffice it to say, my voice lessons are pretty much hour-long love fests between me and Madame–and are still highly productive and wonderful. It’s really ideal…except that I don’t especially want to put down roots in Paris. Tant pis! For now I’ll just enjoy the endorphins that I get from my hour at the Schola on Monday evenings, and from Madame’s excitement when she listens to my singing.

Oh, and here’s a piece that Madame asked me if I had ever sung when we were working on diminuendo. It’s one of the most glorious arias that I will probably never sing…although who knows, really? If Madame asks me to try it, then by golly, I will be thrilled to try it. But not for real, because audition panels would be like, what?