All's well that ends well...?

This is it.  I was never really sure when I started how or when this would end, but I think we're here.  Complex, not complicated.

I haven't written for a long time, really.  Things have gone off the boil recently, not to mention a certain state of emotional volatility that has come from trying to find my place in this Brave New World of Lay-Vicarship.  Turns out that actually, being a Lay-Vicar is almost just exactly but not quite the same as being a choral scholar.  Boozy Friday nights giving out to hung-over Saturdays, the weekly responsorial psalm roulette (altos not included, of course), Sunday nights spiraling wildly out of control and ending (almost inevitably) in the Qdos Karaoke...



The thing is, things have changed.  The tagline at the top, "Love, life, and the poor end of the stall" are no longer really... Appropriate.  Let's deconstruct:

I consider myself formally retired from actively pursuing any sort of love life.  Isn't that sad?  Isn't that dreadful?  What a woeful cry for help!  No.  Sorry.  I know it looks stupid but after how miserable the last break up made me, and how, well...bad I've been at being attracted to people who are either already attached or have no interest in me.  Or seem to but are having some sort of mental crisis... Or even might just be but like to insult me on a continual basis.  Basically...yeah, terrible.  Also, I have no real idea with how to engage with the whole business of successfully showing any sort of romantic interest, and even less with how to successfully interpret it, so I'm out, you guys.  Sometimes I do get dreadfully lonely, and it isn't helped by the feeling that I couldn't actually do anything about it.  This is the no-win situation though, and there isn't a get out, as far as I can see.  Maybe my priorities are all wrong at the moment, witless navel gazing aside.  I do catch myself suddenly caught by the sight of some gorgeous vision... Before remembering that I have no idea what I would actually do.

My life... Well, yes, my life.  I suppose things are going well, actually!  I am pleased to report how well my domestic arrangements have continued to improve, to the point where I naturally refer to the gentleman whose house I lodge in and pay rent to as my house mate, rather than land lord.  Lessons in Verdi, Don't Tell the Bride, tech support and sharing bottles of Budweiser at the start of a weekend have proved far superior to well... Almost everything in fact.  Now a mere 7 minutes away from the outer Crypt door rather than 2, things are very fine in the Georgian terrace I now call home.  I may not have found any permanent work, but bits and bobs here and there keep the wolf from the door, and socially I've been doing much better, hosting a few dinners here and there, including a triumphal roast beef supper for Swedish guests particularly.  But life with the magnificent Dr. N suits me exceptionally well.

And the Stall?  Things could hardly have gone better this year!  Not only have I fulfilled my aim of joining the back row of a Cathedral Choir once again as a full member of the foundation, but I have been accepted by choir, congregation, and most importantly, the Director.  Somehow, my excellent boss seems to have grown to put up with my... Eccentricities, including but not limited to singing all the Christmas descants, and a constant hum of chatter and giggling from the Decani altos.  While I don't get every solo on the books, I don't feel there's anything to complain about, and I've found a real niche being the mainstay of the Alto line - still no days off!  Although I was forty minutes late for rehearsal one Sunday, in a freak occurrence that has both never happened since and left me deeply paranoid about my alarm system.  Thankfully, I was forgiven.  I fit in well with "The Team", I'm sure there are aspects of my game I can pick up on, and the opportunity to develop my skills in a safe environment that I can misbehave in occasionally is nigh-on perfect.


And perhaps this is another reason that writing has gone off the boil - it's like I've ticked it all off.  Basically, the true and original purpose of this blog was to distract me from just how depressed I really was, and thinking back it was certainly one of my darkest hours.  I managed to hide almost everything, but at least I had this to use as a vent when things became particularly overwhelming... Many people have said over the years how admirable a coping method this has been, but let me raise the iron curtain on that one for you folks - I've never been able to cope, and probably never will.  It's all about managing, getting by.  If I can succeed at that then I'm a step ahead really.  Or at least I feel as if I am.

So?  What now?  As the house lights slowly dim, I've already considered that I'd like the show to go on, but on a different stage.  There are a lot of things, personal things, that make me dreadfully angry.  In fact, I tell people that I am almost permanently angry - but mostly with myself; as soon as you understand that, things fall into place a little better.  There are beginnings of long form articles bouncing around in my head, and really the Songman's Rest is no place for a lot of them: video game theory, Historically Informed Performance discussion and that piece I've always wanted to write about Truro Cathedral's Father Willis Organ.  For context, the heading picture is the west end organ of Derby Cathedral, one of the most surprisingly versatile and impressive organs I have had the fortune to serve under.  Short form, be it a weekly bulletin style, or maybe really bad poetry that was scribbled out on some screwed up napkin, or even some thoughts on that film I went to see also don't really belong here... And these are the things that I want to write now!  I also really, really want to get stuck into a thesis on the Orgelbewegung... Actually it's probably for the best that I keep that to myself.

 So, as the curtains finally close, I feel almost close to tears.  Such sentimentality!  Such melodrama!  It's certainly been a journey, and it even looks like my writing has improved, if even a little.  I even managed to crap out at least 1000 words a day last May!  When I set my new page up, I'll post links in the appropriate places.  I do still enjoy writing, after all.

Such fun.

At time of posting, this is the 230th post, and the 163rd to be published, with 13,087 page views  After three years, eight months and twenty days, and a couple of hundred thousand words, it's time to lay this to rest.  Thanks for sticking by me through all the dross and dour sentiment.  

And of course, I'll be back soon enough.  May you be sealed and inscribed for a good year!