roll over beethoven

i must've somehow stumbled into a phone booth, because i've turned back from classical-singer-by-night into secretary-and-sometime-research-assistant-by-day. the recital this weekend went really well--george somehow found a pianist that could play his crazy pieces after just 30 minutes of rehearsal, and the people in the audience were friendly and appreciative. and, funnily enough, i ran into an old acquaintance from depauw, jeff wright. i swelled with pride hearing that the some of the first (and tawdriest) queer experiences he had took place at my senior year's queerblowout house parties. no, i wasn't involved in the tawdriness. tawdrity. whatever.

now, though, twelve hours of driving and a church service later, i sit here in my office, trying to ignore my at-a-glance calendar and cling to the weekend for just a few more minutes. i don't want to do anything they pay me to do today--clinic visits, shipping piss samples to kansas. spending the weekend with musicians was fun, and it reminded me that no matter how many asthma control tests i administer, phone calls i triage, or meetings i sit through, that i am, deep down, a musician. and that none of the people in this office, no matter how supportive or kind they are, can really understand what that means.