Small piece of shit--I mean, wisdom--for the day

I’m in the community chorus now, after a two-year absence following my graduation. I think I only missed one semester’s worth of chorus back when I was an undergrad, which means that I was in – let’s see – 7 community chorus performances. Now I’m in my eighth. We’re doing Haydn’s Theresienmesse, and it’s coming along fine. Grandma joined the chorus along with me back in September, and I think she’s enjoying it.
Anyone who knows me knows I love to sing… all the time. I used to drive my sister A. crazy while we were on the assembly line for her now-defunct greeting card business – spinning the tunes of the 70s and 80s. I tend to sing or hum while I work, a habit I suppress at the library. Recently my mom pointed out that when I cook, I start to sing, which she claims must be a genetic trait coming from my grandfather, who whistled when he worked.

But I’m getting off-topic. The community chorus attracts students and community members alike (hence the NAME), so it’s about half-and-half. There are a number of older ladies and gentlemen in the group. A couple of the older ladies have that old-fashioned warbly singing voice that is fine when alone but not the ideal voice for choral work. HEAD VOICE, LADIES, HEAD VOICE.

The worst of the warblers is this one older lady who sings with such a tremulo in her voice that she never quite sings the note. I always forget which one she is, so I unwittingly sat down next to her at rehearsal last night. I’m pretty good at sticking to my music and my guns, so it wasn’t a terrible problem, but she threw me off a little initially. As in, it’s difficult to hear if you are singing the right note when the woman standing next to you is weaving and dodging it herself.

So I was cursing her for half the night, until finally the chorus went into full swing and I was able to ignore it.

Invariably, when I think bad thoughts about people, it always turns around and bites me in the ass. After rehearsal, as we carried our chairs into the back room, she turned to me and said, “You sing very well,” thereby guiltifying my conscience a-plenty for the night.

This always happens to me. Half of the good friends I have are people that I did not necessarily like at first. That varies from some short-lived poor judgment on my part (i.e. I think so-and-so is a dweeb until five minutes later, when he’s the most awesome person I’ve ever met until tomorrow and NO I’m not fickle) to initial misunderstandings that last for a good while until I get over them. It also goes the other way. A little bit too much. So what I’m saying is, I’m not exactly the best judge of character.
But character aside, what I’m saying is, DON’T HATE. The warbler is still annoying and I still wish she would use her HEAD VOICE, but goddamn but it’s better when you don’t think bad things about people who don’t actually deserve curses upon their head. Hitler? Pol Pot? Think what you wish about them, because I bet they’re burning in the pit. The annoying kid who drums on the reference desk? The chick in the visible thong? Charles Ponzi? Any of these might end up saving your life someday or at least saving you money. Maybe not Charles Ponzi, considering he’s long dead and also went to prison for mail fraud, but my point is that I try not to waste any hate energy. As Mr. Lemyre, my 9th grade English teacher, said (probably lifting this from elsewhere, but I’m too lazy to even bother trying): When you bother to hate, it means that you care. In other words, if you’re the tough shit cool cucumber you think you are, nothing can ruffle your feathers.

We’re gonna be like three little Fonzies here. And what’s Fonzie like? Come on Yolanda what’s Fonzie like?