I’m going to need a bigger handbasket

This past weekend, I lectured my mother, shook down my church choir director, and flipped off a homeless guy in a wheelchair. What’s happening to me?

Granted, my mother needed lecturing, my church choir director hadn’t paid me for a gig in a month, and the homeless guy was in the street knocking on my car window in New York and freaked me out. But when you put these things together, it certainly doesn’t look good. I always knew I would be going to hell–I even have my own handbasket–but even for me, this was bad.

Boy, I sure hope I’m not turning into a Republican.

Small Rant

Most of you probably know that when I’m not blogging or singing, I pay the bills by being a transcriptionist. That means that I type out transcriptions of audio recordings of meetings, or I transcribe one-on-one interviews or teleconferences.

Today, I feel like ranting about said interviews. I think there are very few people who understand how important it is to make a good audio recording of meetings one wants transcribed, and of those few people, only a very small percentage are actually in charge of setting up the audio equipment at those meetings.

I went to one of those meetings last week, as a participant. When I walked in the room, I saw the two microphones taped down to the middle of the table and knew EXACTLY what the recording would sound like: the folks close to the microphones would be heard very well (including their side conversations) and the people farthest away would sound like they were across the street.

Upon introducing ourselves, I was dismayed to see that the people with the hard-to-understand accents were sitting farthest from the microphones (go figure), and I had to say something. So I did, and I mentioned that I was a transcriptionist, so I had experience in these things. Did they listen to me? Did they move closer to the microphone or speak more clearly? Of course not.

Not that it’s really the fault of the people with accents. I’m usually pretty good at figuring out what someone with a thick accent is saying if I can hear them clearly. It’s really the fault of the person in charge of the sound equipment, who I’m sure is just a secretary who isn’t a sound engineer (and why should he/she be?) but was told to record the meeting.

So I’ve decided to educate the public. This weekend, while I was updating my web site (go check it out! I’m really proud of it), I put together a tip sheet for those poor clueless secretaries. No offense…I’ve been a clueless secretary, and I’ve learned a lot from just searching Google for tip sheets like these.

Now, I’m not a sound engineer either, but I’ve learned from listening to many, many recordings that in order to make a good recording YOU’VE GOT TO USE THE RIGHT EQUIPMENT IN THE PROPER MANNER. Too many times have I torn my hair out trying to understand a conversation recorded on a microcassette dictation device that was put on the table next to a speakerphone where the main portion of the meeting or interview was with the guy on the other end of the line who was on a cell phone. I have grown too many white hairs yelling in frustration at the idiot in the breakout meeting who forgot to turn his microphone off and proceeds to tell dirty jokes to the guy next to him while the next speaker, who forgot to turn his microphone on, tries to give a presentation.

Now I know most of you reading this aren’t really ever in charge of recording a meeting or an interview for transcription, but if you ever find yourselves in that position, remember my words, heed them, and do a Google search for my tips.

Okay, I’m done. Thanks for letting me rant for a bit. I needed that.

Groundhog Day

No, my life is not a Bill Murray movie. And actually, I had forgotten that today was Groundhog Day until Ray reminded me tonight.

I guess the prediction from the famous PA groundhog is that we’ll have six more weeks of winter, but I don’t really feel like we’ve had very much of a winter yet. I’m half ready to start planting peas in my spring garden, only I have the bad feeling that some freak snowstorm in April will come and wipe out my fragile seedlings and I’ll have to start all over again. No, better to wait until AFTER said freak snowstorm.

In other news, not only did I miss Chinese New Year (bad Chinese girl!), but I forgot all about Imbolc/Candlemas/St. Brigid’s Day (bad witch!), which is February 1st, and which is directly related to Groundhog Day. All these holidays are celebrations of midwinter, looking ahead to a spring that is already peeking its head out of its proverbial hole. For those of us who despise the cold darkness of winter, this is a very exciting time. Mother Earth is just beginning to wake up. I just hope she doesn’t press the snooze button with a freak snowstorm sometime in April.

Steam Heat

After a fabulous Tofurkey day which I shared with Ray & his parents (as per usual) with the addition of my brother, who came down to visit from NYU, I am now trying to get back into the swing of things. Post-Thanksgiving means Christmas season, and Christmas means gigs. Gigs are good, but rehearsals abound, and I won’t be having a whole lot of time to myself come Monday.

One thing that’s been a little frustrating to me is the state of our bed. We have a waterbed, and a few months ago (sometime in the summer) the heater broke. In the summertime, it was kind of nice to have something cool to lie down upon, a break from the endless heat. But now it is wintertime, and the cold water in the bed is not nice at all. Ray keeps saying he’s going to fix it, but he’s said that ever since it broke, some months ago, and now I’m starting to get annoyed.

Another unfortunate occurrence is the fact that last week the pilot light in the water heater went out. Not a problem, we thought. All we have to do is relight it, and voila! I can take a hot shower again. Except that every single morning since that’s happened we’ve had to relight the pilot light. Not cool. Actually, not warm, but you know what I mean.

The day after Thanksgiving I awoke with the sensation that I had been sleeping on an ice block. Hoping a nice hot shower would help me feel better, I stepped into the shower thinking the water would eventually warm up, but ended up taking a frigid five-minute shower. I hate being cold. I need some steam heat, and now!

Pretty Things

So this morning I was waiting for a FedEx package that was supposed to arrive by 10. Apparently, the FedEx guy showed up at 10:51, but didn’t bother to ring the doorbell (he’s done that before, so I wasn’t surprised, just annoyed). However, I really needed to have that package so I could do some work today.

That was fine, I thought. I’ll just do some sewing…I’m making a duvet cover for a friend, and he’s giving me a few bucks for it, so the day won’t be completely lost, right?

Wrong.

My sewing machine has been on the fritz for the last month or so. Yesterday, I took it into the repair shop and the guy opened up the bottom, sprayed some WD-40 into it, and said, “That should make it better.” I took it home and it seized up again. Ray and I took it mostly apart and found a little plastic gear at the back of the bobbin that was causing the whole problem. I took the machine back today, and the repair guy started futzing with it and said he’d have to take it and look at it, but it wouldn’t be ready for a few days.

Great. So now, although I’ve got plenty of housework and chores and other stuff to do, but no income. I’m needing the income right about now. And my church still hasn’t sent me a check for the solo I sang back in July. To be fair, none of the soloists have gotten checks for their summer stuff, but that still doesn’t make it right.

Anyway, when everything in the world was going wrong and pissed me off, I looked out my window and saw the most amazing thing: one of my waterlilies was blooming. They only bloom during the day and close back up at night. So I raced out with my little camera phone and took some really nice pictures. Here’s one. Isn’t it pretty? Somehow, simple, pretty things make everything all right again.

Only Zul

So there’s this guy in Philly Singers that has a tendency to rub people the wrong way, and because I don’t really dislike him (most of the time), I will only refer to him as Zul from now on. If you get the reference, great. If not, oh well. Those of you who know him and like him, and those of you who know him and dislike him, please remember that I’m not trying to ruin his reputation or anything like that. If you don’t know him, I’m not going to tell you what his real name is.

Zul and I actually have a lot in common, including, both having been in the same vocal quintet in New York (although not at the same time). We’ve sung in various Philadelphia choruses together, and we both live in New Jersey and have often carpooled to and from rehearsals. He was doing the Berio/Wagner concert with me, and we sat next to each other on the bus up to New York for the Carnegie Hall concert.

Sometimes he has a tendency to be a little self-centered, which is pretty normal for a singer, especially a tenor (sorry, guys, I had to get at least one dig in). But he was being pretty self-centered and ADD-like during the bus ride, and by the time we had gotten to New York, I was ready to get away from him for a while. I pulled SK aside and asked if we could have lunch before the rehearsal. She said sure, as long as I didn’t mind eating with JT. That was fine with me, and we got ready to go to lunch. Unfortunately, Zul appeared out of nowhere and said, “Hey, what are you doing for lunch?” I said, “Well, SK and I are having lunch with JT.”

Pause. Uncomfortable silence. Please don’t ask to tag along. Please, please, please don’t ask. “Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked. Grr. “SK, do you mind?” I asked. She looked at me and shook her head slowly. “Okay, then!” he smiled and followed us out of the building.

Now you have to understand that JT really doesn’t like Zul. “I’m Switzerland about it,” said SK. “Really? Because I think I’m Hitler, and he’s a Jew,” replied JT. Wow. “Guys, I’m so sorry about this,” I mutter.

I have to say that JT was very polite, especially for Hitler. We chatted and told stories. I told the story of how Ray and I met, and because the end usually evokes an “aww” from my audience, and these girls were no exception. But Zul had to pull the attention off me and back onto him by saying, “Didn’t you and Ray have problems about a year and a half ago? Weren’t you thinking about leaving him?” Umm…no, not that I remember, Zul. Why would he be so rude? “It sounds like Ray and Maren have a pretty healthy relationship to me, Zul,” quipped SK. “You wouldn’t understand, SK. This has to do with something you just don’t understand,” griped Zul. What?!? Did I lead him on? Did I somehow make him think that Ray and I were having problems and that I wanted to turn to him? God, I hope not.

Anyway, conversation after that became more and more tense. It was almost like Zul was alternately flirting with and quarrelling with SK, ending the afternoon by interrupting one of SK’s stories by saying, “Boy, you sure like to talk, don’t you?” Then he kind of backpedaled once he realized that what he said was pretty rude, saying, “I mean that in a good way.” Oh, sure. JT was amused. Finally, he had to go to the men’s rehearsal and left us to breathe a sigh of relief.

More Blah

Rehearsal was good, I thought. We’re finally getting a nice sound, so I think the performances on Friday and Saturday will be good. As I was going into Philadelphia last night, though, I realized that I had left my wallet at home, so I couldn’t park in a parking lot and was forced to find a spot on the street. The only problem with street parking in Philadelphia is that there isn’t any. I eventually found a spot that wasn’t exactly legal, but I had been driving around for almost a half hour and I had to get into rehearsal. So, surprise of surprises, I got a ticket. What is that, two tickets in two months? GRRRRR. Anywho, I guess that’ll teach me not to leave my wallet at home.

Parking in NY

I got a stupid parking ticket in the mail from New York. I never got the parking ticket on my car, but they sent it to my house and fined me $10 for not paying it on time. I didn’t even know that I had gotten a parking ticket!!!!!!!!! Not only that, but it was for parking at a meter on Broadway at 8:50 PM. How late do the meters run on Broadway? Do they really run that late? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, if I don’t want to pay the $10 fine, I have to have a hearing, which I can do online or by mail instead of in person, which I’m going to try to do. And if I can get out of the whole ticket, that would be just fine with me, too. But if I really was in the wrong, I guess I’ll pay the $65 (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). I know I’m not paying them $75, though. It’s fucking highway robbery.

Cranky

We had our first rehearsal on stage last night, and it went fairly well. Of course, we didn’t get through the whole opera, so I think we’ll have to work on the last act twice tonight or something. I’m still working during the day and I’m just not getting enough sleep so I’m really cranky.

There’s this woman in the chorus that’s really pissing me off. In almost all the crowd scenes she stands behind me, which is fine, since she’s taller than me, but a lot of the time we have to start backing up away from Mephistopheles. And I’m constantly stepping on her. I’m like, don’t you get it? Don’t stand too close to me. But I didn’t say that. The last time I stepped on her, I nearly lost my balance and fell on my ass, so I grabbed on to her hand to steady myself and she wrenched her hand out of mine. What the hell was that about? Not only that, but she likes to give direction on stage, like, “you should run over there faster,” and stuff. I’m so tired of her. I’m also tired of our stupid choir director who loves to yell at us at inappropriate times. We’re trying to deal with the stage (which is raked and somewhat unsafe, actually), and she’s like, “Do you think you can do it with dynamics?” I’m like, can you kiss my ass? I’m just way too cranky for this kind of bullshit right now.