I was speaking in the ancient tongue of my people.
I looked up, with my chin pressed against my neck. I opened my eyes wide, showing the whites all around. A smirk arose upon my lips and, keeping my head still, I glanced from side to side. One eyebrow may or may not have been raised. Then, the signal - a MASSIVE rolling of the eyes! Come forth, my brethren, it seemed to say. Like a siren song the big rolling spirals called for them as if to say "Don't you ALSO think this is ridiculous?!?", proclaiming "I'm going to sit here nicely but in reality we BOTH know this is totally stupid..!".
And in a perfect world, across the room a face should have lit up - one of the fellowship. Someone else who thinks this is total nonsense, whatever "this" is. A commiserating smirk would have been great but I would have happily settled for a knowing but reproachful glance, a smile hidden under pursed lips.
But no! It was like I was on Mars! A wasteland of sincere, earnest faces. I was at choir, and we sounded bad. Our singing was really rough and yet the conductor seemed to like it - come on! My people would understand. My people would have made it more enjoyable to wade through the six feet of manure slop that this rehearsal was becoming. But no. I was alone. No wicked, amiable alto greeted me from across the room. No soprano elbowed me in the side as we both stifled laughs.
Here is what rehearsal was like. I shall write it as a play, for that is what is was - a farce.

Except play writing is hard so I'm also going to interject first person.

Preface: You know the voice you use when you're singing in the parking lot? Not loud - you're just returning your cart and kind of hum-singing, the kind of singing that is in no way hampered by not knowing the words. Woosh, goes the cart into its little corral. Oh, the weather outside is frightful, huh huh ha huh ha da dum da. And as long as we hum hum ho, let it snow, let it snow, let is snow..., you murmur. That sort of singing. Well, APPARENTLY that is how we are supposed to sing in this choir. Little tiny underwater voices and I think it sounds dumb.

Let the play begin.

The Hushed Whisper of Albemarle

Scene - any meeting hall, any Monday night
Characters - picture the choir you are in - these are the exact same people, for example:
There is the person who makes lengthy announcements about making sure we don't waste rehearsal time making lengthy announcements,
There is the alto who laughs too hard at all the Conductor's tired jokes,
The soprano who's in love with him,
The tenor section half-filled with women,
The bass who asks questions in a self-important manner only to realize that the question was already answered a few moments ago when he wasn't listening
GLARINGLY ABSENT FROM THIS CAST: merry band of women
The Conductor
Snarky girl in the corner (me)

Act I, Scene 1

Eliza: Oh, my. All this whisper-singing is affecting my pitch. I can't be having that. Surely it would be better if I sang a teensy bit louder but perfectly on pitch. Here it goes. "But the righteous ones are iiiiiiiiiiiiiin the hand of Go-"
Conductor: Ugh, ladies - stop, stop, stop. Too loud! Quieter - this is an art song, not an opera. Try again.
Eliza: Hm. That didn't go well. Okay. I guess I will just sing in this dumb, quiet voice. How am I going to sing the high notes singing like this? Oh, well. I guess I should just go for it - what is it that conductors are always saying - I'd rather you sang with confidence and make mistakes than sing meekly? So, quiet, but with confidence. "Hand of God, nor pain nor grieeeeeeeeeeeeeee -
Conductor: Pitch, ladies, pitch. Some of you are not getting these notes. Start over, try again.
Eliza: This is not going well. Maybe I have a cold. Surely he can't mean just me.
Everyone else: But the righteous ones shall beeeeeeeeeeee in the haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand..."
Eliza: *mute*
Conductor: Stop, stop! That was wonderful. Whatever you did there, do it again. Always do it like that from now on.
Eliza: Surely this is some sort of remarkable coincidence.

-now, repeat this scene a couple of times, for added effect-

Act I, Scene 2

-later on, after break-

Everyone else, plus me singing really quietly and sometimes just mouthing the words: For he haaaaaaaaaaaaaaath foou-ound cooooooooooomforrrtttttt.
*high note*
Bleeeesss-
Conductor: No, ladies, terrible. Like this, sing like this - Aw. Ah. Awh.. Just like this Awwwhhhhhhh....
Eliza: I don't have a falsetto. How am I supposed to sing like a man?
Everyone else, plus me: Nor pain nor grief shall nigh them...
*high note*
Eliza: Ahw - (cough) (squeak) *mute*
Conductor: No, ladies, sopranos. I'm sorry I'm always picking on you...
Eliza: No, you're not.
Conductor: but let me...
Eliza: Oh, no.
Conductor: tell you about...
Eliza: Here it comes.
Conductor: my time at Westminster/Peabody/Oberlin/Jesus' own personal choir of angels...
*conductor tells long rambling story*
Eliza: Why? Why? This is not relevant! If we gave out stickers for self-aggrandizing stories you would be covered in two inches of flimsy, sparkly adhesive plastic..!! Arg!
Conductor: blah, blah, blah ...So that is why you should listen to me. Let's start again. Remember - aAHhhhhHWWhwhwahh...
Everyone else plus me: Blessssss-eeeedddddddddd they. Bleeeesssssssssss-eeeedddddddd, bleeeeeeessssssssssssssssssed
*high notes*
Everyone else plus me minus a few ladies: *lipsynching*
A few ladies: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwhhhhhhhhhh...
*lower notes*
Everyone: ... theeeeeeeey thaaaaaaaaat mourn...
Conductor: Perfect! Perfect, ladies! You sounded perfect up there. Do it just like that from now on!

-INSERT EYE ROLLING HERE-

CURTAIN.

Seriously. I felt like I had been transplanted to MARS and was trapped in a land of genuine Martian choral singers, none of whom seemed to be living in the same space/time continuance as me... Madness.

Well, folks, that's it. But the show will be running through May, every Monday from 7 -9 at a community center near you. Hope you like it, the cast sure does..!