I must be doing something right

Because there was so much going wrong recently. I managed to work myself past the breaking point - which is a pretty far point, let me tell you. The week went something like this:

Monday: School, Choir, Two-hour rehearsal, Make Blocking Form, Copy Blocking Form, Three-hour rehearsal

Tuesday: School, Four-hour rehearsal, Loverly Time on the Town and at Adoration, Staying Up Until 2 a.m. then Waking at 6 a.m. to Finish Grading

Wednesday: School, Mass (Leading Choir), Semi-Cancelled Drama Club (due to feeling ill, feverish and semi-delirious), Two-hour rehearsal (with dancing), Quick End of PoP Blocking, Three-hour rehearsal

Thursday: School, Emergency Choir Meeting, Three-hour rehearsal (split in two with two different groups), Twenty-Minute Dinner, Two-hour Martin Luther King "Celebration," Returning Home Exhausted Only To Read Something Uberdistressing In The State I Was In, Taking Temperature (which wasn't high enough to justify staying home), Going to Sleep after a long talk with Mumsy and then forcing myself to Answer E-mails

Friday: Waking up with only fifteen minutes to get myself together, Finding out my usual route to school is BLOCKED OFF, Teaching "Touchy" Subjects Whilst Admins were in my Class and I Felt More and More Feverish (never a good state to try to make an argument! Either element would make things difficult to begin with: the combination, levelled against a class frequently ungainly as is made the whole thing impossible - ah well, Monday cometh), Cancelling Sixth Period and Asking For Tylenol and Cell Phone (LOL! Both of which things no one is supposed to have. Oy. Y'know - sometimes common sense...?), and then Attempting to Cancel Opera Lesson, Finding Opera Student Can't Receive Calls on Her Phone, Driving Opera Student Home, Pulling Self Together to Get Dinner and Print Off Blocking Form, Discovering That the Hudson Drama Arts Alliance Called (making me laugh; ah, so maybe I won't be taking this Summer off?), Praising God for Fathers Willing to Copy Blocking Forms So Daughters Who Are So Tired They're Shaking Can Sleep for Two Hours before a Three Hour Rehearsal!!!

Saturday: So slept in. And read Entertainment Weekly while listening to Josh Groban. And slept again. And had dinner. And blogged. And now am going to make room more habitable. And then sleep.

Fortunately, my wonderful, wonderful family kept me together this week. Praise God for them. I can't even imagine having gotten through everything without them. And more, for Ch. taking me out of myself. D'you know, in the car yesterday, as I was off to get dinner and attempting to stay alert in the car to GET dinner, I found myself working to remember the lyrics to "Aldonza" from Man of La Mancha. One of my favorite songs - not because I find myself described in that song (or at least not factually), but because it gave me comfort remembering that so many of my students, so many people in the world sadly identify WITH every single line. (Of course, the greater comfort comes from the reprise of "Dulcinea" she sings to Don Quixote at the finale.) But as I sang - belted really - that song in my little Glorielle, I realized that although I did not identify with the lyrics factually, I certainly - and we all, absolutely - identify with Aldonza. We all ARE whores. Every time I sin, I prostrate myself to demons. Every time I sin, I am an adultress against my bridegroom, my Lord. Who, upon really looking at himself, has not said with Aldonza, "Won't you look at me, LOOK at me! God, won't you look at me?" Who has not raged against God for consistently calling us by our true names, by seeing the good within ourselves when we cannot see that good? Who has not been afraid of God for loving us when we know we are not deserving of any love? It's a strange thing, but true, that gentleness and mercy are far more terrifying than anger and abuse. More terrifying, for one cannot blame he who is merciful; one can only blame oneself.

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) My lady...

ALDONZA
(spoken) I am not your lady!...
I am not any kind of a lady!

(sung) I was spawned in a ditch
By a mother who left me there,
Naked and cold and too hungry to cry;
I never blamed her.
I'm sure she left hoping
That I'd have the good sense to die.

Then, of course, there's my father...
I'm told that young ladies
Can point to their fathers
With maidenly pride;
Mine was some regiment
Here for an hour,
I can't even tell you which side.

So of course I became,
As befitted my delicate birth,
The most casual bride
Of the murdering scum of the earth!

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) And still thou art my lady.

ALDONZA
(spoken) And still he torments me!
How should I be a lady?

(sung) For a lady has modest and maidenly airs,
And a virtue I somehow suspect that I lack;
It's hard to remember these maidenly airs
In a stable laid flat on your back!

Won't you look at me, look at me,
God, won't you look at me!
Look at the kitchen slut reeking with sweat!
Born on a dung heap to die on a dung heap,
A strumpet men use and forget!

If you feel that you see me
Not quite at my virginal best,
Cross my palm with a coin,
And I'll willingly show you the rest!

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) Never deny thou art Dulcinea.

ALDONZA
(spoken) Take the clouds from your eyes
and see me as I really am!

(sung) You have shown me the sky,
But what good is the sky
To a creature who'll never
Do better than crawl?

Of all the cruel bastards
Who've badgered and battered me,
You are the cruelest of all!

Can't you see what your gentle
Insanities do to me?
Rob me of anger and give me despair!
Blows and abuse
I can take and give back again,
Tenderness I cannot bear.

So don't reach out to me
For your "Sweet Dulcinea" you call.
I am only Aldonza!
I'm no one, I'm nothing at all!

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) Now and forever thou art my lady Dulcinea!

(Aldonza screams in despair and collapses.)

~*~

ALDONZA
(sung)Dulcinea... Dulcinea...
Once you found a girl
And called her Dulcinea,
When you spoke the name
An angel seemed to whisper...
Dulcinea... Dulcinea...

Dulcinea... Dulcinea...
Won't you please bring back
The dream of Dulcinea...
Won't you bring me back
The bright and shining glory
Of Dulcinea... Dulcinea...

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) Then perhaps... it was not a dream...

ALDONZA
(kneeling beside Quixote again.)
(spoken) You spoke of a dream. And about the Quest!

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) Quest?

ALDONZA
(spoken) Yes, how you must fight and it doesn't matter whether you win or lose if only you follow the Quest.

DON QUIXOTE
(spoken) The words. Tell me the words!

ALDONZA
"To dream the impossible dream"...
but they're your own words!
"To fight the unbeatable foe"...
Don't you remember?
"To be with unbearable sorrow"...
You must remember!
"To run where the brave dare not go!"

DON QUIXOTE
To right the unrightable wrong.

ALDONZA
Yes.

DON QUIXOTE
To love, pure and chaste, from afar

ALDONZA
Yes.

DON QUIXOTE
To try, when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!

ALDONZA
Thank you. My Lord!

DON QUIXOTE
But this is not seemly, My Lady.
On thy knees? To me?

ALDONZA
Oh, my Lord, you are not well!

DON QUIXOTE
Not well? What is sickness to the body of a knight-errant? What matter wounds? For each time he falls he shall rise again... and woe to the wicked! Sancho!

SANCHO
Here, Your Grace! More misadventures!

DON QUIXOTE
Adventures, old friend!

DON QUIXOTE
Oh the trumpets of glory
Now call me to ride,
Yes, the trumpets are calling to me,
And wherever I ride,
Ever staunch at my side
My squire and my lady shall be!
I am I, Don Quixote...

DON QUIXOTE, ALDONZA, SANCHO
The Lord of la Mancha
My {Our} destiny calls and I {we} go!
And the wild winds of fortune Shall carry me {us} onward,
Oh, whithersoever...
(Don Quixote falters)

ALDONZA
My Lord!

SANCHO
Master!

DON QUIXOTE
Whithersoever they blow
Onward to glory... I... go...
(crumples to the floor, dead.)

ALDONZA
My Lord...

SANCHO
He is dead! My master is dead.

ALDONZA
A man died. He seemed a good man, but I did not know him....

SANCHO
But...

ALDONZA
Don Quixote is not dead. Believe, Sancho, believe.

SANCHO
Aldonza...

ALDONZA
My name is Dulcinea.

To try, when your arms are too weary....

Mood: Recouping
Music: Oklahoma on the CD, "The Impossible Dream" on the webpage I'm stealing a picture from: Recent Australian Version
Thought: If this is how You treat Your friends, God, no wonder You don't have many! St. Theresa and St. Catherine pray for me!
Link Du Jour: So good to read grown up work a la Mark Shea. BTW, folks, please keep MA in your prayers - should we redefine marriage, the world is watching. What culpability that should be!
And this - just chilling. Even the Greeks, who had ritualized homosexuality, did not elevate it to marriage. And the Greeks, my friends, were blessed with a societal genius that has not been seen or equalled since. Things that make you go "hmmm." But that's one of the great lies we buy into: that the experiences of the past have no bearing on the present. "Those who do not remember history...."