I’ve been absent a few days because, you guessed it, HP #7. I must say, I am not disappointed at the way things turned out. At all. I am sad that the tales are over. Zach and I figured out that Harry and his pals are our age. Were this whole thing real and we had magical powers, we would have gone to Hogwarts and been in his class. It kind of gives me a sense of ownership over the whole story. Like Harry was my friend. The thing I feel the most when thinking about the whole story is friendship. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were loyal to each other from age 11-12. I think we all want that: friends like those three.
Last night I went to summer choir and we are singing an Aaron Copland arrangement of “Zion’s Walls.” Here is a version I found on youtube. I don’t like this interpretation very much…too many sopranos, not enough men (but isn’t that how it tends to be), and kind of flat. But you’ll get the idea:http://youtube.com/watch?v=0L0Mb2gNKn8
There’s something about these old American hymns that gets me feeling. It’s the triple meter and pentatonic melody that gets me. We are also singing “How can I keep from Singing” (another old pentatonic melody), a Haydn Missa Brevis, a Hammerschmidt something or other, and some other thing. I don’t think the whole program has been decided. The performance is August 10th. I enjoy singing in the choir, but we don’t get to polish very much in the short 6 rehearsal periods.
So that music running around in my head while finishing the Epilogue of HP last night made me feel. And I had to shed a small tear for my pals at Hogwarts this morning. Pathetic but a real feeling in some weird way.
I also got a haircut yesterday because I was trying to even things out a bit. Trying to get it so I can grow it out without it looking like a mullet. I need to go back and get it fixed. It’s not exactly what I wanted–there’s a line across the back left that I don’t like. I was also sad about that (thanks for the words of encouragement, Jill).
So, HP, singing, and hair. That’s what made me feel yesterday.