Wouldn’t it be weird if George Allen won the Republican nomination for president in 2008 and Mark Warner won the Democratic nomination? We’d have two former governors of Virginia running against each other for the presidency.
While I’m talking about the 2008 election: Colonel Tigh always reminds me of John McCain.
I had a great time with Andy at the Met last night. We saw La Traviata.
I feel a rush whenever I’m at Lincoln Center. Walking over to it last night, seeing the opera house directly ahead, I felt a surge of pleasure. Something about Lincoln Center makes me feel like a kid, all secure and safe. I wonder if it’s because I saw The Nutcracker there when I was little? The highest of the fine arts are there – opera, ballet, the symphony. Timeless, and sheltered from the rest of the world.
The ticket-takers at the Met wear cloaks. Fancy. And the Met has a true lobby, unlike cramped Broadway theaters. Most operas seem to be three acts, so there are always at least two intermissions, and they’re long – about 20 minutes each. Plenty of time to go out to the various lobby levels and people-watch or go down to the lower level and explore all the portrait paintings of past opera stars.
I’m more or less an opera novice – this was only the third time I’d been to the opera. (And one of those times was an outdoor performance where I could hardly see anything.) It was my second time at the Met, so I’ve now seen both La Bohème and La Traviata at the Met, two of the most accessible operas. (The outdoor opera I saw was Rigoletto, another of the most accessible ones.) Traviata was beautifully performed. I wish I could say more about it, but I’m hardly the opera veteran Andy is. It was terrifically sung. Because the house is so big, though, the sound doesn’t really envelop or overpower you at the Met. I wonder what other opera houses are like.
I’m curious now to attend some less accessible operas. I have some Wagner recordings – the Ring Cycle, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, and Tristan und Isolde – and I love most of what I’ve heard. His music seems meatier and his themes more intellectual than the more popular Italian operas. But I’ve never actually seen a Wagner opera performed live. But I enjoyed last night and all its trappings so much that I’ve taken the plunge and bought myself a ticket to see Wagner’s Parisfal at the Met in May – a five-and-a-half-hour opera I’ve never even heard. Yes, I’m possibly crazy, but it’s supposed to be one of his best. I didn’t go for the cheapest ticket, either, because I figure that if I’m going to sit through a five-and-a-half-hour opera, I may as well splurge.
This opera stuff is kinda fun.
This post is rambling and gripey.
Maybe it’s because this is the first Monday in three weeks that I’ve had to go to work (the past two weekends were three-day weekends), but I’ve been in a bummer of a mood since yesterday. I spent most of yesterday depressed about having to go back to work today. I’m always complaining to Matt that we don’t do anything on the weekends, but then when the weekend comes I can never think of things to do. Well, I do think of things, but then either Matt is busy with work stuff on the weekends (I shouldn’t complain, as his job gives us the free apartment, which is enabling me to pay down my student loan at such a quick rate) or I don’t actually want to do something when the opportunity arises. I’ve been wanting to go back to the Museum of the City of New York for some time now, but what’s with museums closing at 5 pm on weekends? By the time Matt and I got ourselves together to do stuff on the weekends, it would be too late to the take the subway up there and spend enough time in the museum.
The solution is that we need to plan ahead of time what we’re going to do on the weekends, so we can get up out of bed and go do it.
Matt says that this is all because it’s the winter and it’s cold out, and that once spring comes, we’ll go out and do more stuff. I guess that’s true. But I’ve been getting cabin fever on the weekends. Sitting on the couch reading the Sunday paper while looking at the back of Matt’s head as he sits at his computer gets a little old. And I don’t want to write off a third of the year just because it’s too cold.
Matt readily acknowledges this difference between us, that he’s perfectly content to code websites or watch TV on the weekend while I often want to do something enlightening or memorable. The thing is, my desire to go out and do something enlightening or memorable sometimes conflicts with my desire to take advantage of the weekend and just do nothing.
A few years ago I was house-sitting for someone in Kearny, New Jersey, not too far from Manhattan, on a long weekend. At the time I’d recently bought a recording of the Ring Cycle. That Saturday afternoon, I listened to the weekly Metropolitan Opera broadcast and then had a fantasy of suddenly hopping into the city and getting a ticket for the New York Philharmonic or something at Carnegie Hall. (Oh, look – I blogged about it! Wow, I’ve been blogging a long time.) I didn’t do it, and instead had a perfectly lovely, cozy weekend indoors by myself.
Tonight I’m actually going to the Met with Andy to see La Traviata – he had an extra ticket. It will be only my second time at the Met. I’m looking forward to it. There are three things I think of as quintessentially New York activities: museums, theater, and classical music/opera. The fine arts, basically. I don’t do enough fine arts. I need to do more of it. Particularly the latter.
It seems that the theme of this post is that if I want to go out and do stuff in the city, I should do it. But it’s more than that. I just seem to have this general malaise lately.
The gym – what’s the point of it? Actually, two different people have told me lately that they think my face looks thinner. But other than that, isn’t going to the gym supposed to make me feel good? Isn’t the cardio supposed to be making me feel good emotionally? So why have I been feeling emotionally mediocre lately? Isn’t the weight-lifting supposed to be giving me bigger muscles? Actually, the weight machines do seem to be working, albeit slowly. Yesterday my biceps were able to handle 10 reps of 55 pounds, whereas a few weeks ago I was struggling mightily with 40. And my arms are slowly, I emphasize slowly, getting some muscle definition. But to what greater purpose?
Then there’s my knees. I’ve only been able to have one physical therapy session so far, due to insurance issues. I’ll finally have my second one this week. Still, I’ve been doing the exercises I learned at the first session and they haven’t helped matters yet.
Then there’s a work meeting in south Jersey next Monday evening that I somehow have to get to even though I don’t have a car.
Then there’s other stuff.
Yesterday did turn better last night, actually, after I got back from the gym in the evening (so maybe the gym does have benefits?). I read about 20 pages of Team of Rivals, and then at about 9:30, Matt and I went out to the nearby Waverly Restaurant for dinner. There’s something really nice about a late dinner out. The place was relatively empty. I had a tuna melt and fries, and Matt had a patty melt and fries. We ate and talked. It was quite nice. Afterwards, we went home and watched a couple of second-season episodes of Battlestar Galactica. We’d already seen them the first time around, but they were a blur back then because I was clueless about the show. After having watched all the first-season episodes, though, the second-season episodes made so much more sense last night.
Then I read a few more pages of my book and then went to bed.
Saturday night was pretty good, too. For a change of pace, we went out for Indian food. Then we went home and watched Mysterious Skin on DVD. What a good, disturbing, effed-up movie.
I can’t seem to stop writing this post, as if continuing to write it will somehow make me feel better. Sometimes I just really need the written word, you know?
I don’t know.