Last week I made arrangements for my British Lit class to go to the opera. We studied Romeo and Juliet last semester, so going to the opera Romeo and Juliette seemed like an excellent opportunity.
Can I confess something? I don't really get opera. This is my third one. I've also seen Madame Butterfly and Medea. It's kind of like the feeling I have when I watch ballet; although, truthfully (and my apologies to all of you who have little ballerinas), I like opera much, much more than ballet.
Oh please. I'm an artsy kind of person. I could stand in the Louvre for days and days and days. I can listen to the symphony for hours with only a few pleasant naps (on my mother's Russian pony fur coat, but that's another story). I eat up plays and musicals.
It's just that I don't get opera. I just get… well, here it is. I'm saying it: I. Get. Bored.
I would actually rather attend a football game than attend the opera or ballet. I can't believe I just said that. But at least at football games (I've been to two in the past 22 years), I can watch people and eat hamburgers. Operas and ballets are in dark rooms, and everyone is so serious. And snacks are seriously frowned upon.
So there it is. At the end of my 45th year, I have admitted my utter lack of appreciation of these two fine arts.
P.S. I did not share my opinion of the opera with my literature class. At least 3 of my students voiced that they really, really liked the opera. And I am tremendously happy that they were all exposed to opera. Maybe someday the rest of them will be opera lovers. Or maybe they'll comment on the drunk guy in front of them at the football game. Or maybe both.