Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Milk and shnapps

So, here I am… drunk. It is now March Break for the little hellions I like to call “Students”. A bit has happened since the start of “Spring Break”… but I think I’m going to skip that for now. On Wednesday, I visited my fave locally-owned video store and rented some videos (5 DVDs for 5 days for $5). I rented Vagina Monologues(I borrowed the book… bloody brilliant). Opera Queen watched and didn’t quite understand the following question. Any females out there, feel free to answer… (even anonymously)

“What would your vagina wear?”

Paranoid Twig answered a white cashmere sweater and leather pants. I agreed, that is a smashing outfit that she would wear.

Anywho, warp ahead to present times. I am alone and drunk in my apartment. Opera Queen is staying with me over the break. We drank some wine as we watched a video of grade 5’s and 6’s play the recorder and act in a musical/play (gawds, thank my Daddy for the wine). At any rate, we went to some opera shindig at the University afterward. It was bloody amazing. They did a snippet of the greek tradegy of Euridice and Orfeo (is that his real name?). True, I am not a conseur of opera, but I know the story very well, and the singing almost brought tears to my eyes. It was beyond meagre words.

At any rate, which brings me to the “now”, Opera Queen buggered off with her music folk to an after-party. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge her at all! I just start to think, at moments like these, where I would be if I took a different path. Once upon a time, I used to be very musical. In fact, my band director was shocked that I didn’t pursue music in University. True, I never had a voice (any one claiming otherwise is a bloody liar), but I could play. I played piano for 10 years, I was excellent at the baritone saxophone, and I was becoming proficient at baritone horn (euphonium). (Anyone switching from woodwind to horn can verify the effort it takes). At any rate, I ignored that “calling”. So, at times that Opera Queen talks to her “music folk”, I become….

Is it jealousy? Am I jealous for the choices that I made?

Is it melancholy, for the talent that I “wasted”?

I don’t know what it is. I felt uncomfortable (not due to Opera Queen leaving, but my own obsessive-compulsive mind), and walked towards my apartment. Once I reached the “dirty core”, where the street lights dim and I can feel comfortable again, I pulled out a bottle of peppermint shnapps and milk to accompany me on my walk home.