onto the pile

in the midst of blogging about my big, juicy fight with terry this weekend, i completely forgot to blog about something else that made my weekend just a hair shittier: after two seasons of singing with baltimore opera chorus, i wasn't offered any contracts for the upcoming season. that's right, ladies and gentlemen, i shall no longer be performing such meaty roles as "third pilgrim on the right" or "trojan warrior with sword." though i'll miss one of the more challenging roles of my career--"young foppish gypsy standing with other gypsies"--i'm trying to see my rejection in a positive light.

then again, being rejected from an organization i've already been a part of feels a little too much like being kicked out of a club. i've gotten dozens (ok, so maybe two dozen) of rejection letters in the last couple of years; unlike chi-chun (or gillian, if you're an american whitey who can't pronounce chinese names), who piles them up as reminders that she needs to practice harder, mine go straight into the trash. sometimes i don't even bring them into the house--i rip them up and put them into the outside garbage, where they can't intermingle with my frozen pizza wrappers and coffeegrinds. being rejected from baltimore opera hurts more, though. because my rejection from the chorus, two years after being accepted, just makes less sense.