:-ß

I found this in the February edition of Harper's and found had to pass it along. For nerds only. On so many levels.

STET OFFENSIVE
From questions posted on the website of The Chicago Manual of Style, answered by the University of
Chicago Press manuscript-editing department.

Q: Is there any standard for the usage of emoticons? In particular, is there an accepted practice for
the use of emoticons that includes an opening or closing parenthesis as the final token within a set of parentheses? Should I incorporate the emoticon into the closing of the parentheses (giving a dual purpose to the closing parenthesis, such as in this case :-); simply leave the emoticon up against the closing parenthesis, ignoring the bizarre visual effect of the doubled closing parenthesis (as I am doing here, producing a double-chin effect :-)); or avoid the situation by using a different emoticon (some
emoticons are similar :-o), placing the emoticon elsewhere, or doing without it (i.e., reword to avoid awkwardness)?


A: Until academic standards decline enough to accommodate the use of emoticons, I'm afraid
CMOS is unlikely to treat their styling, since the manual is aimed primarily at scholarly
publications. And the problems you've posed in this note give us added incentive to keep
our distance.

Casus belli

This week has been a rather tumultuous one at work. At a time when I shouldn't be worrying about what is going at work whatsoever, I have become embroiled in drama, drama that I should just ignore.

I think the most ironic thing of all is that, when people ask me what it's like to work with the same 16 people day in and day out, in intimate circumstances such as working on stage, I usually say: "I have virtually no problems to speak of, with the exception of an occasional bout with the two other Americans in the chorus."

And, the drama, partly, of course, brought on by my sharp tongue and my unwillingness to let myself be walked all over, was with these two guys--the Americans. I won't go into details except to say that it involved a lot of screaming, hand gesturing and dialogue such as "you can stick it up your fat, white ass" and the proverbial "fuck you". Ok, there was a lot of that second one... I think what infuriated them both is that I remained calm during their venomous diatribes. For that, I was proud of myself. Don't get me wrong, I engaged them with my words, they were just said calmly even going so far as to make fun of one of the temper tantrums by feigning a feeling of being threatened when a finger was wagged here and there.

It did trouble me, though, I have to admit, that these two things happened within such a short span of each other. The likelihood that these two things could have happened just out of chance in such a space of time is very small. Somehow, in a time of feeling resentful by constantly being one-upped by their well-seasoned inner-political manipulations and gossip, I must have purposefully bated them into flying off the handle. This sort of realization hurt me to some extent, because, contrary to popular belief, I see myself as a good person, not as the seething Queen Bitch that others do. I think probably I give myself credit for at least trying to be good even if it doesn't always work. In some ways, though, a strong stance is good to have in your back pocket in this business. (These people can be mean and I do mean mean!)

That being said, that I had some part of this Tango as it were, it should also be mentioned that everyone, by now, knows that I am trying to complete my doctorate this year and am not staying in Pforzheim. And, as I had suspected, the fact that I am leaving has stirred up some emotions, most of which are not about me. There were three things that I came to realize when I had thought and meditated about these days of battle:

1. That I am in some way responsible for these little tiffs.
2. That, if I were to make a hierarchical list of the people who would be most pleased if I were to fall on my face and fail in my attempt to further my career in other directions, these two guys, the Americans, would be on the top of it.
3. That, considering #2, the reason that they are so frustrated with me is because they know, deep down, that I will not fail, and that makes them angry.

Strange, I know. But, in thinking about the thousands of thoughts that floated through my mind in the past couple of days, they are the only three things that seem to have that scent of truth about them. They seem to contradict each other, but, like many strange dichotomies in life, I believe that they simultaneously exist despite their disparate natures.

Do not worry, those of you out there rooting for me (I know you're there and it really, really DOES make a difference.) I have fallen off the horse, but have mounted her again (I couldn't just walk away from a wonderful verb like that.) Now, I know that I just need to keep my mouth shut and float above the dangerous waters until Pforzheim's place in my own personal history comes to a hopefully, nice, dull end.

I forget...you all know me, and you know that perhaps life's greatest challenge is for me to keep my mouth shut.

Well, lock me up and throw away the key!

Ok, I know for most of you, it would be “no big deal at all”. But, for me, I was taken aback. I have a mention on the website Operabase, for having sung, last year, the role of Erster Gefangener here.

Weird.

A google search with my name not just mentions of my blog and countless horseshoers, but also, even if just a snippet, a bit about my singing career. Refresh!

Give me a -tion word

There are two forces at work within me right now. Two voices for two opposing ideas, and depending on the circumstances, either can be winning at any given time.

There is a part of me that is absolutely scarred shitless to audition now as a soloist. Whereas the insular environment that I have found myself caught up in in the past 3 years can in some ways be coddling, in that I know that I am talented when compared with those other people in the chorus, it can also be damning in ways, in that I am now scared to leave the nest and try new things. There is a voice inside of me that remembers vividly the auditions of 2003, that remembers the horrible, mean comments of agents not in any way interested in my talents. Memories of this time are a sort of mishmash of the overall corruption of my dreams as they crashed and burned. This part of me, long silenced, has now been given voice and is filling me with doubt. Whereas in the Fall I was filled with great hope and a near certainty that I was doing the right thing by pursuing this, I am now, as I get closer to actually doing it, completely conflicted.

The other voice is the voice that says “you can do it” that says “no matter what happens, you must try”, that says “this is your destiny”. This is the highly refined voice, the voice that speaks softly but carries a big stick, it is the voice that usually wins most of these inner arguments, even if not so resoundingly that the other voice lay their in heaps after a knock-out bash. This is the voice that does not question my leaving my cushy job in Pforzheim; this is the voice that encourages me to delve into the unknown because it is my dream and because I know, if only from the lowest common denominator, that I cannot stay here any longer.

I try to focus on this second voice. It is the one that I can concentrate on, that fills me with relief and positive energy. But, when I hear little snide comments from my colleagues, or take too much to heart the jokes of friends, it is always the first voice that comes out and says: “see, I told you so”. It will also be the voice that will possess me when an audition does not turn out well. Any small opportunity, and this voice, as negative and as based on a “me” that simply doesn't exist anymore, based, even, on a singer that doesn't sound anything like he did in 2003, comes out in its haughtiest form and tries to tell me that I am stupid to think I am more.

Unfortunately, this doubt is affecting my singing. Once sure of where I stand, now all of my tones are in question. The instrument is there. It's ready. The technique is there. Now I am playing the head game that a lot of athletes talk about. I have to believe that it is good before it can really be good. All is at the ready except for he who is at the helm.

My voice teacher, my friend Maria and I.

I like this picture even more considering the shop behind us. Why do Germans insist on using English so badly?

Seperated at birth?

Obama-mama

Mr. Ramirez,

I just laughed and laughed at this cartoon. I feel especially compelled to tell you this, connsidering how I have lambasted you in my last email for your irreverent depiction of President Carter. If the balance of compliment with criticism is as truly important as I think it is, I am almost required to pass onto you, now, my 100% approval of this one. Don't get me wrong, I am but one man who is totally amused; this does not mean that I know better than you what is funny or not funny. That being said, this one does seem funny in its own right, especially as I think that it properly depicts the fickle nature of the electorate when it comes to its seeing a pretty, new face (Obama.)

Anyway, I don't want to digress, especially considering you probably never read these things anyway.

Again, congrats. A very nice one, indeed.

Me

Shielded Glandular Toads

I just about laughed myself silly the other day when I realized what a hughe blunder I had made in German. For those of you that know me, this story will be made even more hilarious as you know how prideful and haughty I can get about being “smart” and being able to speak German often well enough to go undetected as a foreigner on this krautish streets. What can I say, the bigger they are, the more hilariously they slip on banana peels right onto their schnozes.

I had been having trouble with Winter Depression for some time, and finally wnet to the doctor about two weeks ago. I started immediately on light therapy, and the took some blood. When I went back to the doctor for my consultation about the blood analysis, I was shocked, simply shocked. He sat me down and said that there was nothing in the analysis to be worried about, that he thinks that he can help my situation almost immediately. “What I would like you to do is take a little bit of turtle hormone every morning.” Huh, uh, huh? I must have looked perplexed but he plodded on explaining the wonderful benefits of such a thing and that my blood, for whatever reason, seemed to indicate that I needed it. I kept thinking,, 'what, am I not in deepest, darkest Africa? Is this guy some which doctor masquerading as a German physician?' Help!

So, I go home, and, excitedly tell Chris, “You'll never guess what the doctor said!, that I should take turtle hormones!”
“Not turtle hormones, you idiot! Thyroid hormones!”, he screamed.

Well, I had no idea that the words for 'thyroid” and 'turtle' sounded so much alike in German! (Shilddrüse and Schildkröte) I guess it just goes to show that you should 1: pay close attention to what people are saying, and 2: don't ever get too big for your britches when it comes to foreign languages.

At any rate, I have been taking a super small amount of thyroid medicine for the last three or four days and, I have to admit, it really has given me a little pep in my step. Every little bit helps at this point.