Dec. 18th, 2001

quislibet: (Default)
(A painful longing for the return.)

I'm listening to a Christmas concert recorded on Dec. 4, 1989. I occasionally fancy that I hear myself on the tenor 2 part. Possibly I can, which would mean I was singing too loudly.

For the three years that I was in college in Ohio (I exempt my junior year, spent in Greece) I sang in the touring chorus, which meant among other things I never had a spring break. It was a big group, 60 or 80 people, something like that, under the direction of one Jack Russell (it occurs to me that it's a good thing I don't know him from my BU days, or else, given the name of BU sporting teams, someone might have thought to saddle the chorus with an unfortunate name).

(Speaking of nicknames, our college teams bore the nom-de-guerre of the "Fighting Scots." This suddenly makes me think of the strikingly similar occasional nickname of her man, based on his preference for martial LARP characters and used to distinguish him from another Scott in the game with the same last initial. Maybe I should get him a t-shirt.)

Anyway, listening to it is making me all misty-eyed for my college days. Not that I would, on the whole, really want to return to them, but sometimes it would be nice to visit.

Perhaps this mood will help with my paper-writing activities today. I knew how to write a paper when I was in college.

Sigh. Speaking of...

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