exposed again...

oh, what did I just do a few days ago...

I entered a room where a chorus held its normal Saturday rehearsal.

I said hello and told them I liked to sing. And also that I would like to sing in a community.

Oh and yes the chorister said allright no matter you were unable to read the notes, it's your voice that's important.

Oh yes and I am to be auditioned this Friday evening.

Keep your fingers crossed.

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Anyway...

If any of you think this crazy tree has just gone way too crazy these days, no thanks I am all right. On the plus side: I always loved singing. My range varies with my state of health, my ear is fine. I think singing with lots of people together is a fantastic experience.

On the negative side howevere, there's the lack of musical training, the lack of vocal strength in certain ranges, and many more I can't even possibly think of.

I was open about not being able to read the notes and not having any experience in singing in a chorus at all.

The chorister was positive.

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Baby chicken, yes we have 10 more. Photos are coming soon.

whew

My first ever public appearance as a writer of poems and/or short stories has gone fine. As I mentioned in my other blog, I have joined a writers' club early this spring. We meet every month, learn things, solve problems, do homeworks, and so on. I find it extremely useful in having my creativity flowing.

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Yesterday we had an evening in the local library where everyone read her/his own poems/writings for a maximum of 8 minutes.

There were us, the leader of the group and attendants of the library and some yes, some other people, too. The evening was part of the events organized around the 80th National Week of Books.

I read three of my poems.

I was excited, talked about being excited to relax myself, took a deep breath, and began to read. Oh, my.

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The first poem was a short one about the ever-presence and continuity of water, the second was rather a pagan song to welcome the spring season, but the third one... that one was a tough one. Being therapeutic, as most of my writings are, it is a very personal poem.

Well, I survived.

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