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Or girl, in this case. Either way, that’s the gospel truth, blogosphere.

(Can we just talk about how great this opening number is, and also about the time I went to the movies with camp and about four of us went to see Hercules instead of Men in Black? I have never once regretted that decision. Also, the actor who voices Hercules is Tate Donovan, who was more recently disposed of in a very unsavory way on Damages and is now featured on Deception–and yet when you search his name on IMDB it says Tate Donovan (Hercules, 1997). Awesome.)

I got home from our Sunday matinée of H.M.S. Pinafore, made dinner and turned on the television. Halfway through the Tony awards, I swallowed and thought, uh oh. That doesn’t feel so good. And man, was I right, because I have been hit by a DOOZY of a cold the likes of which I haven’t experienced in years.

I’m glad, in a way. Of course I never want to feel this way, because it’s awful, and naturally it’s viral so I just have to wait it out. It’s just that lately I’ve noticed that I’ve been sleeping through the night, but I haven’t been resting. I wake up groggy, with no motivation. I haven’t been watching movies for fun or reading for pleasure, because every time I try to, the little voice in my head that I can’t turn off says that really I should be looking at one of the four operas I have to learn in the next six months, or reviewing Yeomen for Buxton in six weeks (!!!), or working on my audition arias, or cleaning, or doing dishes.

But being sick means that not only am I incapable of being much more productive than I have been, but it is also somehow more acceptable to my Type-A brain to take it easy. Since Monday, when I decided to call in sick to work, I’ve watched five movies off my Netflix Instant Queue: Monsieur Lazhar, Les Choristes (actually, this was on Amazon Instant), Albert Nobbs, Les émotifs anonymes and Kings of Pastry. I have unapologetically gone back to bed for HOURS at a time; on Wednesday after dragging myself through the Pinafore matinée (and singing a pretty killer high C through all the mucus!), I took two Nyquil, and as a result, it took until 11 AM yesterday for me to wake up properly. Yesterday afternoon I took my Yeomen score, a Snapple and a Ritter Sport (which I couldn’t taste, so kind of a waste of calories) to the beach and read through my music and dialogue…and when I got home I slept for three hours. I haven’t thought too much about what I SHOULD be doing, because honestly actually doing ANYTHING knocks me out.

This is an excellent lesson to learn. If anything, I’m going to slow down and give myself permission to rest, rejuvenate, and spend time being completely unproductive. It will be difficult, bu I will persevere.

For now I think I’m going to go back to bed.

Bisous,
Anne

P.S. This was almost the song I chose to feature at the beginning of this entry, but I am feeling decidedly less than groovy right now. But the message is good: “Slow down, you move too fast!” (In fact, I’m having slight déjà-vu…is it possible I’ve already used this as a blog post title?)


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