Monday, May 2, 2016

music, music, musicland

The choir director at the high school is retiring after a long and illustrious career.  I was in her first year teaching here, and Grant is in this year, so that's a fun little set of bookends.  There is an alumni concert for all her former students, so of course I was like YEAH MUSIC.  They also said that spouses who were up to it could participate, so John was also like YEAH MUSIC.  So John and I and Grant are all going to sing some gorgeous music together, and the songs are really pretty and meaningful and I'm going to be a total mess up there.  But let me get to the point of my story, which is of course a complaint about somebody else:  

We were rehearsing Friday night, and the woman next to me, who is the spouse of a guy who was a year younger than me, made a couple of snotty remarks about the rehearsal director (who was also in the year younger than me) and the sopranos.  How tacky!  Listen to me, ma'am:  you are a guest in our home, essentially.  Nobody asked you to be here, and you can knock it right off with the attitude.  I've been sitting next to you and you're doing fine, but you're making just as many mistakes as everyone else, and no matter how accurate your remarks about fancy vocabularies and inability to read music may be, that's not for you to comment upon.  You don't get to insult a tribe you're not a member of.  UGH.  

Music people are so hateful, and I say this in full awareness of my own hatefulness.