A Great Upending in the Year of Mercy

Yes, it’s been quite a while. Which will be sort-of addressed in the following paragraphs.

2015 was a year of internal change. Of figuring out my goals, my direction (or lack thereof), of realizing my vocation (at long-bloody-last!). In mid December, I knew what items I needed to really change things in 2016: A good planner, and a couple good books on organizing one’s life. Because if there’s one thing the developments of 2015 showed me, it’s that I had no organization in my life, and was getting horribly overwhelmed every time I tried to get things together. I needed guidance, a system, something to keep me from drowning in my own chaos. [I’m very good with chaos, but Chaos is, almost paradoxically, a static state. Chaos may grow, but it never progresses. Likewise with the other extreme, perfect order, because the only perfect order, the only perfect peace, is the heat-death of the universe. So, also not-desired. What is needed is the careful balance of Chaos and Order, the friction of which provides movement in a direction.

So. First I found the Top-Down Planner. It was a bit pricier than I expected for a planner, but I could tell that this was exactly the sort of organization and focus I needed. Basically, instead of  devoting all the space to schedule with maybe a small little square for goals, this planner devotes most of its space to your working out and planning your goals, with a schedule space at the bottom of the pages. I find the space is sufficient for my scheduling needs, but the focus on goals is fantastic.

After shopping around both online and off-line, I found nothing that even came close to this focus and layout. So I went with it. It came in last week, and I’ve been working with it ever since. I love it!  I spent a couple of days last week just working on the first pages, where it takes you through a series of exercises designed to first help you identify the values you life your life by, and then the goals you have for your life. The results of these exercises are then used to set the focus for the rest of the year, first on a month-by month basis, then as a week-by week basis, around which you then schedule your days. This focus on life values and life goals really helps to highlight which parts of your life are the most personally fulfilling, and which are just filling time. The Goal focus of the planner has already really helped me focus my own efforts around my selected goals, and the steps needed to progress toward their achievement.It has also started the crisis of the week, though it’s a good and necessary crisis. I’ll get to that in a minute.

Second, I found two highly rated (on Amazon) organization guides, both by Jennifer Ford Berry– Organize Now! A week-by-week guide to simplify your space and your life, and Organize Now! Think and Live Clutter-Free; A week-by-week plan for a happier, healthier life. I purchased them because they were highly rated, spiral bound, took things in small increments over the course of the year, and started with organizing one’s self before organizing one’s space. The first two weeks of the first book are “Organize your mind & Life Vision”, and “Organize Your Priorities”. The first two weeks of the second are “Organize Your Priorities”, and “Organize a Vision Board.” You can see there’s some overlap (and, they both dovetail very nicely with the work being done in the planner). Each week is only a few pages long, and includes checklists of things to think about, schedule, or do. I sit down on Sunday evenings and read the chapter for the coming week. If there are things to schedule, I add them to my planner. Otherwise, I just think them over for the next week, implement what I can, and then on Saturday evening, evaluate the developments of the week and where to go from there.

As you might imagine, this has lead to my goals and priorities being on my mind quite a bit over the past month, and especially over the past two weeks. What am I supposed to accomplish in this life? Why am I getting nowhere with the things I really feel a need to do?

When I was working on the initial pages of the planner, I ended up setting out 4 Goals. [I should note first, in case you don’t know me personally, or haven’t known me personally for a long time, that I often tend to think and express myself in symbolic terms. Not everything I say is meant to be understood literally. Sometimes I’m short-handing big concepts or ideas. Sometimes my expression is halfway between symbolic and literal, or both. I guess it’s understood through context. Or asking me. That works, too . . . sometimes.] The 4 Goals I set out were 1) Maintain/ Enhance Life Order, including Finances (because nothing else will work out well if the bottom falls out of everything), 2) Become a Ninja, 3) Establish the Clan and 4) Establish and Promote the Ninja-verse Fandom. There is a significant amount of overlap between some of these, but that’s okay.

Clearly, “Become a Ninja” is not exactly literal. But it’s not purely symbolic, either. It’s a list of things I want to learn, or become proficient at, to be more self-sufficient, and more capable of being of use in an emergency situation (this is where my physical fitness goals are categorized). To be more the person that gives aid, than the person that needs aid. “Establish the Clan” is about family and homesteads, the philosophical and physical needs of establishing and maintaining family connections and networks (and yes, there are steps involving finding Prince Charming-future-co-Clan-Chief). “Ninja-verse fandom” is all about my writing, which is something I love, even when scenes are frustrating me. I’ve always loved telling stories– childhood friends may remember that I’ve always loved telling stories. I love all the work that goes into crafting a good story– the research, the world building, the character creation, the plotting, time lining, the actual scene and chapter writing. Telling and writing stories is, I think, my vocation. It’s what I’m supposed to do. To play with ideas and express them as adventure, as romance, as Ninjas-in-Space! Awww yeah!

Once these goals are set out, and steps listed for each, there comes the inevitable process of comparing what one has been doing, to the goals and steps written down. What are your current commitments, and how well do they match up with your goals and needs? For instance, on average, adult humans need 7 hours of sleep a night. This is true for me, so I need to be getting to bed no later than the 9:30-10PM time-frame. Also, I am very much an introvert– I need time alone, time to let go of everything and re-charge. Any chore that adds mental stress negates the fact of being alone. These are things that can’t be changed– they can be “Dealt with”, but cannot be changed. I have to work 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and have to go to church on the weekend. These are the non-negotiable items. This means that all mornings except Saturday are booked solid, from the start, with maybe some room on the occasional Sunday if I go to Mass on Saturday evening.

So. . . all of this has been on my brain. Then a Mormon friend posted this article to her facebook feed: When We Try to One-Up the Lord’s Standards: Culture vs. Commandments. I’m not Mormon myself, but I still really resonated with a lot of what the author had to say. I am intimately acquainted with the feeling that I’m not doing enough, that I’m constantly falling short of what the Lord desires of me, that I should always be striving to do more for the Lord. That I’m not devoting enough time or resources to charitable endeavors, to helping others. So this article got things really ticking in my brain– perhaps part of my problem is not that I’m not doing enough for the Lord, but rather that my a priori definition of Doing the Lord’s Work has somehow included: “Whatever you’re doing, if you enjoy it, it’s Not the Lord’s Work. If it’s not directly working with the Poor, it’s Not the Lord’s Work.” You can see where this might become problematic. Not everyone is called to serve the Lord in the same ways. Bot somehow, my understanding of such work was narrowed down to the High-School Service Hours definition. Working at a soup kitchen, or a homeless shelter would count, but freely contributing what small amount of Beauty I could into the world most assuredly did not. No amount of singing for free could amount to one hour in a soup kitchen. My writing, or work on it, would never count because no matter what I wrote, no matter what theological ideas I worked with and tried to express, it wasn’t directly helping the poor, and in addition, I plan to try to sell the stories, and if any money is made, then it’s right out of consideration.  But not to sing, and not to write, was to squander the Talents He gave me. So, I had to do both, and the soup kitchen and homeless shelter and more, because the Gifts I was given were not, by my definition, suitable for His Work. (We’ll not even talk about the spiritual angst involved with not having started a family yet. That’s a whole other can of tangled worms. . .)

Yes, I see now how stupid it was to be thinking such things. I suspect, however, I am far from the only person to have fallen into this trap. We elevate charitable work, but have such a narrow view of what “counts”. . .

Then, David Bowie died. Then Alan Rickman died. Two men who wielded immense influence over my development as a musician and as a storyteller.  Both were severe shocks, and surprisingly personal losses. Bowie was the man who influenced the men who influenced me, the root cause, so to speak, of my development as an artist. His ceaseless exploration of ideas and self, no matter how weird or unusual, is the root of my ceaseless exploration of ideas and self. I am no Bowie, but in the end, I learned the pursuit of Truth No Matter What from him. Rickman portrayed some of my favorite villains, as well as Metatron and Professor Snape. His portrayals of his characters, from Hans Gruber, to the Sheriff of Nottingham, Metatron, and my beloved Professor, helped me learn how to craft characters of interest and depth. Both deaths were unexpected, seemingly sudden, a painful reminder of the ticking clock. . .

. . . And of those goals that need addressing. . . an indication that one cannot “wait for life to sort itself out” to get on with what one should be doing. I cannot wait– I spend so much of the year saying “things will calm down once ______ has passed, then I’ll get ______ done”, only to find that the expected calm never comes. It’s one thing after another– End of Fiscal Year, this holiday, that big convention, this other event. . .  things never calm down, because after every event, all the things I was desperately postponing crowd back in. It’s too much, not if I’m to accomplish what I’m supposed to accomplish. I’m constantly juggling commitments– all things I enjoy, but not all actually furthering any of my goals. My house is a mess because I have no regular time for chores. My fitness progress is always stalled because too many days, I chose between working out (and thus not having time to make my own meals), or making healthy meals (and not having time to work out). I don’t get to sit down to write until 8 or 9 pm (or 10 or 11pm), by which time my brain is so tired I hardly can type a sentence.

Yesterday, I made a list of all my Not-Work and not Actual Church Service Commitments, and the frequency of these commitments. They are as follows:

1. Choir 1 — weekly plus concerts
2. Choir 2 — weekly plus certain holidays
3. Charitable Organization — monthly, plus additional
4. Charitable Organization 1a — monthly
5. Big Convention — yearly, plus ~ 1 week, plus sick time after
6. Little Convention — yearly, plus ~ 1 week
7. Community Emergency Response Team 1, Local level — quarterly
8. Community Emergency Response Team 2, County level — monthly
9. Community Emergency Response Team 2, State level — monthly
10. Community Emergency Response Team 3, State level — monthly
11. Exercise/ Physical fitness — daily, except Sunday

Yes, there is scheduled time for expected illness. (sigh). These can also be broken down as follows:

1. Daily Commitments: 1
2. Weekly Commitments: 2
3. Monthly commitments: 5
4. Quarterly Commitments: 1
5. Yearly Commitments: 2

Two commitments in a day means I cannot cook, or do other household chores for that day, as the whole day will be spent in commitments and the driving to and from them. More than 2 days of 2 commitments in a week starts to effect diet, exercise, sleep, chores, and anything else I might possibly try to be doing with my life for the entire week. Missed sleep is not made up until maybe Saturday but, sleep too late on Saturday, and that cuts into the one day I have to catch up on everything else. If you look at the frequency breakdowns, you can see how this starts to become a problem. My weekly commitments plus my physical fitness needs max me out at the beginning, but then 5 monthly commitments means 1-2 additional commitments per week, plus quarterly and yearly when they come around.

This is untenable, but it’s how I’ve been going about my life for some time. Taking the first list, I compared it to my goals. Some of them fit into my goals. Some do not. I enjoy all of them– it’s the only reason I do them. I enjoy what I’m doing and I love the people I’m with. . . but I’ve got to cut back. Some things, those that are part of some of my goals, can be scaled back a bit (and to heck with anyone who gives me crap about it. Seriously, screw ’em.), some other things may have to go entirely. For commitments I’ve made through the end of February, I’ll be keeping almost all of those, because I don’t want to bail on people with such short notice. But beyond that. . . there will be cutbacks and cut-outs. Simply because there are things I’m supposed to be doing, but I’m so over-committed, that it’s a special occasion when I make any progress at all with them. And my health can’t take it– I can’t get in shape if I don’t have time to exercise, time to clean my house ,time to defrost my freezer so my fridge will work again, time to make my own meals, time to get my needed hours of sleep. . .

So, look. . . to everyone who will soon be seeing less of me: I am sorry. Please believe, this isn’t because I don’t like what we’ve been doing. And this isn’t because I’m “pussing out.” I will definitely miss these things, and the people involved, but these cuts have to be made. This is because I have my own priorities, my own goals, and I have to pursue them. There’s no point to my life if I do otherwise.

2 Dreams from the Past

It seems much of my impetus for non-fiction writing recently is my conversations with ChrissyTheHyphenated. In the combox for post Why a Rapture, I wrote of my dream about my someday-to-be-dog-friend, Anubis. As I wrote, I recalled another dream, definitely Revelations flavored, and featured a grassy hill. So, I’m gonna write about it, and then as a bonus, relate a funny dream that only Grunt and Lephael have known about until this point.

Dream 1: This was dreamed about 12-13 years ago. At the time, I hadn’t studied much at all in the way of prophecy (Christian or otherwise), but I dang well knew about angels, as angelology was a hobby of the time.

I’m standing on a field, the grass a bright, rich green. Bright like the sun is shining on it. The sky is dark and clear– not quite night-time dark, but I can see the stars in my peripheral vision. I’m looking at the horizon, at my eleven o’clock. From beyond the horizon, I see two fireworks shoot up and explode, one white, one red. The burning flecks radiate out, but instead of dissipating and falling, they elongate and grow brighter, becoming missile-like things headed right for where I (and others) are.

Somehow I know that they aren’t missiles, even before the unfurl/unfold. I know almost immediately that they are angels– the red are Seraphim (because Seraphim burn, yanno, so red), the white are Cherubim (because the cherubim–not putti!– are very intellectual sorts. Logic and Reason. Clear. White).

So, these angels come and land on the field, and line all us humans up into queues– one Seraph facing the head of each line, multiple Cherubim managing each line. I’m so distracted by all the angels all around (because Angels! Pretty! Shiny!!!) that I don’t pay attention to what’s happening at the front of the lines as we shuffle through. Before I realize it, I’m at the head of the line, with something coming right at my head.

On instinct, I lift my left hand to my forehead to block, and get a handful of sealing wax, imprinted with a design I can’t exactly remember. Part of the wax seal is on my forehead, but most of it is in the palm of my left hand. The Seraph with the self-waxing stamp gives me a level look as I mutter “Oh, crap! I’ll never be able to use this hand again!”

The Cherub to my right gently pats my shoulder with a somewhat rueful look. “It’s okay,” he says. “We all know who you are and where you go.” The implication is that I have something of a reputation among the angels, and that reputation is something along the lines of “Easily distracted, somewhat flaky klutz.” As I can think of far worse reputations, I don’t mind.

The Seraph huffs at the Cherub, and the latter points me to a hillside not that far away, and says “Your friends are over there.” I go, somewhat gingerly cradling my left hand, and sit down next to some very good friends of mine, who pass me a bread-basket full of popcorn. “We got good seats,” one says. “We’ll be able to see everything!”

End of Dream 1

Dream 2: I’m adding this because it’s funny and deals again with angels– or a rather specific one in this case. First, before we get to the dream, if you’re not familiar with Michigan J Frog, you need to be familiar with this:

The running joke with the frog is that he only ever sings in front of that one guy– if anyone else comes along, he reverts back to normal frog behavior. And then starts singing again when they go away.

This dream happened in late May of 2004– I was in the hospital, the first time I’d stayed overnight in a hospital, in the process of being diagnosed with cancer. I was not yet relocated to the “cancer ward”, still in the general unit with a roommate that was, I think, dying. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on– they’d run enough tests to seriously alarm the docs, but the biopsy wasn’t to happen until the next day. But they wanted to keep me, because they were afraid that I’d slip into respiratory arrest at any moment.

So, being the amateur angelologist that I was, I knew that when you were sick or in need of healing, the number one angel to ask for was Raphael. He’s known a the Divine Physician, the Top Angel when it comes to Healing. He also has a reputation as being the “chummiest”, “most approachable”, and “goofiest” of the angels.

So that night, I finished out my nighttime prayers with the following: “And, God, if it isn’t too much trouble, and if he’s got a spare moment or two after his real work, and if it’s okay by You, tell Raphael he’s always welcome to come by. Even the smallest bit of help would be deeply appreciated. Thanks.”

That said, I snuggled down and went to sleep.

I dreamed I woke again in that same room, and in came Raphael, bright and shining, dressed in a tux with tails, and spats, and a top hat and cane and white gloves, singing that same song and dancing that same dance as the frog! Followed by all his Malachim helpers!

It was so ridiculously silly that I started giggling uncontrollably, and woke myself up I was giggling so hard! From that moment on I knew I’d be okay. It was something I couldn’t explain to the doctors or nurses, or even my distraught mother and father– though I did tell mom years later. I knew I’d be okay, because Raphael came by and made me laugh (it is the best medicine, after all).

And he seriously is the goofiest angel, ever. [Even keeping in mind that he whupped Asmodeus’ butt barehanded and locked him in the desert until the end of time. Mmhmm! He’s not one of The Magnificent Seven for nothing, you know!]

RadioFree Slytherin: The Time of Our Lives (Repost)

[This is a repost. Originally posted at TCT]

I have no intention of presenting these posts as straight music history, presented in chronological order. That’s perfect for Music History class (taught by a professor that looks like a grown-up Hermione Granger, no less)– but for the weekly post at a blog full of rag-tag misfits that enjoys discussing the finer points of politics, philosophy, and bacon? No, I think a more meandering presentation is better. Granted, I felt a duty to start off with the oldest complete recorded piece in the world. But a second post has no such weighty considerations, only that I try to make it connect, somehow, to the previous post in some manner.

Our connection is theme. The song is a recent one, from 2009. I know nothing about the guy singing. It’s possible he was on American Idol. But you’ll notice that the lyrics are taken right from the same philosophical vein as the Epitaph of last weekend.

But the song, when I was listening to it, called to mind the central idea of this particular presentation. Before I get to that idea, though, I have to present another, by way of a question: What is music?

Let me ask my question another way: What is the difference between music and noise?

Think on that for a short minute. Give it a ponder. Don’t get too complex– go for basics.

When I was in Music Theory with Dr. D (a former Harvard Countertenor), he was the first person in my music education to ask this question. We students stumbled around a bit, trying to think complex, sophisticated thoughts, like the little idiots we were. After watching us flail about for a few minutes, he had mercy, and provided an answer so simple and sensible there was no way it should have been allowed on a college campus:

Music is sound, organized. As opposed to “noise”, which is sound without organization. This very basic idea becomes the one constant, underlying law of all music, and unspoken assumption throughout countless ages and civilizations until the idiots of the 20th Century West came along and broke that rule, alienating generations of people from their musical heritage. Way to go, Schoenburg. . . [Yes, this means that by definition, all spoken language is a sort of music, a fact utilized when language is distilled to make poetry or fine prose.]

Anyway, music is organized in two elements– Time and Space. The time element is organized by beat and rhythm, space by pitch. Both create form. Song birds sing in clearly defined intervals of pitch and rhythm, in true, short songs unique to each species. Humpback whales compose veritable sonatas, each unique to the whale that composed.

Contrary to the thoughts of the general populace, the first element one must address is not the space element, but the time element. One single posting is not sufficient to cover this entire element, so I’ll leave most of it until later posts. But to first address it . . .

The first marker of time that we humans encounter is the heartbeat of our mother, while we rest beneath her heart in her womb. Consequently, this is the beginning of our musical training– even before the softly sung prenatal lullabies or the piped-in Baby Mozart, the first music we hear is the steady bum-bum, bum-bum of our mother.

As we grow, this primary beat can morph into the harsher tick-tick-tick of the seconds being ticked off by the second hand. It is this sound, the steady tick-tick of time passing away that is highlighted by my selection for today.

RadioFree Slytherin: A Dedication for Euterpe

[This was originally posted at TCT. Reposting today]

Well, my proposal for a new weekly feature here met with some measure of approval, so here we go with the First Entry. Before I do so, I wanna give some credit for the inspiration for this series to ZurichMike (the other ZM of the Treehouse)– on Thursday’s language post, he and I had a brief conversation around the pronunciation of the word “forte”, which had me quoting some lines from the aria “Nessun Dorma” (From Puccini’s Turandot). This made we want to post the aria for all to enjoy, but then the wheels started turning, and what would have been one post will be a recurring series.

But I’m going to hold off on the Puccini. If we’re to do this properly, and considering that we are the Conservative Treehouse. . . we must start much as we started the Advent Calendar, and kick it old school. Only today, we’re leaving Chant in the dust, going back another thousand years, for the oldest recorded complete song on the planet.

There are actually fragments of songs with musical notation going back to the Babylonians of 2000 BC, written in cuneiform. And there are other songs from China that are very plausibly dating from 1,000 BC. But those songs were not written down until the Tang Dynasty (618-907 AD). [Oddly enough, it seems that the idea of recording music was something Western Civilization has been doing for at least 4,000 years, while no one else had the idea until Tang Dynasty China. . . and even then, it’s still a mostly Western phenomenon, which is why music history and theory courses focus on Western Music– because that’s what got recorded for posterity.]

Thus is it that the oldest complete record of a song is the “Epitaph of Seikilos.” This song was carved into a tombstone, found in 1883 AD near Aiden, Turkey (which is not far from Ephesus). The words written upon the tombstone translate as follows:

“I am a tombstone, an image. Seikilos placed me here as an everlasting sign of deathless remembrance.”

Then follow the text of the song:

“While you live, shine.

Do not let yourself become overburdened by grief

For life exists only for a short time

And time demands its toll.”

Followed by the dedication:

“(from) Seikilos to Euterpe”

This dedication has led many scholars to conclude that Euterpe is the name of Seikilos’ (presumably dead) wife. Funnily enough, she shared her name with the Muse of Music and Lyric Poetry.

Of all songs written so long ago, I find it oddly appropriate that this should be the oldest complete song in the West. It is so familiar in sound and sentiment–it’s a song of a man, grieving a love taken from him by time, but still treasuring his memories of her. It’s not some song praising one’s duty to a god or country, nor an epic of battles, nor a philisophical aria. It’s a heartbroken love song: simple, sad, and poignant in it’s elegance. The melody is evocative of his sorrow, the words filled with both inspiration and grief. This version progressively takes some liberties, but I like it anyway . . .

I was surprised when I went looking for this, that the makers of the videogame Civilization have included it in their soundtrack for Civilization V. I admit to being a bit skeptical at first, but I actually enjoyed this orchestration– it’s a respectful and stirring tribute to the musical roots of Western Civilization.

I do hope you enjoyed today’s selection!

Some MUSE

Your regular(-ish) update is coming in a few hours. In the meantime, in honor of the first of two Hell-Meetings for my week, today’s song is not nearly as mellow as the one most recently posted. I’m just really enjoying the bass line in this . . .

A Nightingale Sang . . .

Because I know I need some good, relaxing tunes . . .

16 Feb 2012 Feast of St Paul, Shipwrecked

1)St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.

Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou,

O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God,

thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits,

who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

2) Today the spirits of frustration and despair are making themselves known. Apparently, not just to myself. I don’t know when St. Paul went and wrecked his ship, but it’s appropriate to how one feels today– shipwrecked. We look to the “leaders” of our Church, and think to ourselves about too many of them, “Damn, we been had. Bamboozled. Run amok!” Christ himself promised that the gates of Hell would not prevail against the Church, but they sure have been having a good go at it.

3) In that spirit, some music is needed. We’re not yet at the stage when Angela’s “Beautiful Fighter” is the theme, not quite yet. But, I do think my two favorite pieces from the Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle Soundtrack fit well.

Madonna, Removing All Doubt

Two weeks ago, I posted a weird YouTube about Britney Spears, Madonna, and some odd mind-control theory. I was skeptical about a lot of it, but a fair amount made sense, due to my “Questionable Past.” When I heard that Madonna was doing the Super Bowl Halftime Show again this year, I thought it would be a good time to check the theory. I would watch and, wither it would fit the “Occult Ritual Pattern” in some way, or it wouldn’t. I expected to have to give some thought to it. But she couldn’t have been more blatant.

The following video gets some of it– I thinking I might do a more thorough analysis this evening, if I can.There’s a lot more here than even this person saw.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQSwSX-kg1k

 

Oh, Can’t you see what Love has done?

I think this is my favorite music video ever. Naturally, from my absolute Favoritest Rock Band EVAR!!!, U2.

A lot of people don’t realize that very early in their career, U2 albums tended to be filed by record sellers under “Christian/ Gospel”, because their lyrics were so very religious– even in Latin for one song (That would be “Gloria”, from the October album). Well, at the time, “Christian” music meant a very limited audience, and the band wanted to be heard by more people than that. They realized that if they replaced “Jesus” with “You”, or even “Love”, suddenly they were listed under Rock. All while the meanings remained the same, especially if people took the time to examine the lyrics. I don’t know how many other rock bands write songs about the Holy Spirit (Mysterious Ways), or the Last Supper from the point of view of Judas (Until the End of the World), but there you go.

What makes this video so touching, aside from the song, is the tribute it pays to so many other musicians and artists, across genres and times. Very, very nice.

Matt Maher’s “Christ is Risen”

This song has been very soothing to me recently. So, I thought I’d share with you:

I’d love to write an arrangement for the small women’s chorus I’m in. I think it would be pretty cool . . . need a snare drum . . .