Do you know how hard it is to explain to someone that  just because you can speak French doesn’t mean you can understand it?

::Insert awkward silence.::

The dilemna of an opera singer in a room of non-music majors…No one quite understands that just because you can sing in French doesn’t mean you can pass out of French 111. By the way, I can officially count to 60 in French. No, I couldn’t do that before. Unless there’s an aria written where you count to 60 in French. I haven’t come across that one yet.

Venturing in and out of the home cave (The Music Building) has become quite a feat. It makes the event of leaving the music building every day an almost terrifying experience. Imagine wondering

“How hungry am I REALLY? Do I really want to treck through the rabbit hole to find food?”

or

“Is it too early to miss Math class yet? Because those stone paths really hurt my feet…”

As most of you know, the stomping grounds that music majors have long claimed as their own are virtually none-existant. Everywhere there are fences, tractors, stone pavements (that really, really hurt to walk on). There is ONE way in and out of the music building, and half the time you have to squeeze by construction equipment. Our beloved environment is being disturbed by machinery. So in case going out into the Queens College jungle to take liberal arts classes wasn’t terrifying enough in itself, here’s one more thing driving me out of my nest.

I have to say wandering out into the QC world hasn’t been all terrible. I’ve gotten more sun than I usually do…

The people are wonderful, though I often get looks full of simultaneous shock and interest when I reveal my major. It’s like I become an unkown specimen under a scientist’s microscope. My every move is noticed. Every word recorded…And then there’s the relentless

“Oh, you’re an opera singer? Do you like Phantom of the Opera?”

Once and for all, people: Phantom of the Opera is NOT an opera.

And with that, I bid you adieu (Yea, I knew that one BEFORE taking French 111).

Nicholle B.