Wednesday, October 28, 2009

I'm a little bit excited...

I am trying to recruit another violin teacher to work at the primary school with me. She's Suzuki-trained, but no teaching experience yet... the possibilities look good but I'm a little nervous.

I'm trying to extend the olive branch of "Of course, you're welcome to teach from my studio space" but I really only want her to do that if she's going to teach Suzuki philosophy, and her students would be welcome to join onto my concerts and group lessons...but that really only works if they're learning Suzuki repertoire.. and I only want them doing that if there's Suzuki philosophy behind it!
Oh, fraught, dangerous and dipping toes in the lion's lair, I know.
But it could be so good!

I guess I'll just hold my breath and wait for an email reply.

In other news: I am not a swan, I'm an ugly duckling. Or an ugly swanling, since I guess I'm technically too old to be a cygnet anymore. Last night if asked I would have made a sworn testimony that BOTH my feet were not only left, but attached to my hips by planks of wood upholstered with jelly. Isn't that a delightful image? I know, I'm so brilliant with words.
My brain was clearly a lump of aforementioned jelly sloshing about in jug of my skull, because I left home without
:Jazz sneakers (aka keep the skin on the sole of my foot where it belongs)
:Pointe shoes (aka flay the skin from the tops of my toes; who needs skin there anyhow?)
:Pointe shoes no.2 (aka who needs to break pointes shoes in? That's SO for wusses)

I hope you've all enjoyed that belly laugh at my expense and that your computer monitors are still coffee/tea/hot beverage of your choice free. Now go back to work. After you tell me the best thing you've ever forgotten.

(Mind you, wasn't as bad as the time I caught a bus, a train, a tram and WALKED to Melbourne Uni to discover that after two hours of travelling I'd left my #*!&^@#)(*!&^@)*!@&#^ assignment at home. This time I just rang my husband and explained how having shoes at class would make my world an infinitely happier place.  Nearly as happier as if someone put the swan I'm meant to be out of it's misery with a garotte. Oh, wait, garotte's just another name for the WHITE lycra leotard I have to shimmy myself into come Sunday. Universe, this is not funny any more.)

5 comments:

kylie said...

just dropped by to see what youre up to!
thanks for visiting my place. i love your comment instruction!
cheers
k

Dan. said...

Now this is really weird, I have been following you for a bit, but totally forgot, as I never have any updates on new postings you do show up on my dashboard thingy.. It was only by chance that I clicked on your blog and found out I was already following? (This is going somewhere, believe me)

Massive apologies, otherwise I would have said hi earlier. I now have to catch up on your posts.

I will be back again to comment properly.

(I honestly bet you can’t wait. I have just read all that back and it makes no sense to me at all. Sorry!)

Auntie Cath said...

Chelsea,

Over the years I have forgotten so many things: To save my 10000 word CAT before closing the document; birthdays; that I was rostered to work; my keys etc. I have a diary now! I am sooo dead if I forget that one!

:D

PS you are never too old to be a swanlet!

lindamciver said...

To breathe. My beloved used to make me little notes. side 1: breathe in. PTO. Side 2: Breathe out. PTO.
My maid-of-honour at our wedding did a similar thing. lists:
1. call reception centre.
2. breathe.
3. make appointment for dress fitting.
4. breathe.

good advice, I think!

omchelsea said...

Kylie: HI!! Thanks for stopping by and complying with the comment policy ;)

Dan: That IS totally weird. You'd better pimp my blog on your blog to make up for it. (I'm joking! Sheesh...)

Cath: Oh, I feel for you on the CAT.. ten years on! I've never forgotten work but I have had nightmares about forgetting.

Linda: There is no room in this leotard for breathing. None. But I will try. (May need corsetry to keep the breathing G-rated, but....)