Dvorak and I

To say that "music is my passion" is probably the ickiest, most cliche, and redundant expression to describe how I feel toward this audible art, per say.
But suffice to say, it works well in expressing how I feel. Music. Singing, was always a part of my life, since I can remember.

i recall learning ode to joy on the piano by ear when I was probably 4, feeling quite the accomplisher as my brother didn't understand that if I hadn't "learned" the notes, how was I able to play it.

I am definitely not a musical prodigy, but dare I say it, I have pretty damn good ear. As most musicians should. I Shamefully remember belting out Whitney Houston Ballads (I will always love you, duh.) on the small slope of a hill in my backyard to my mom when she was cooking dinner when I came home from school.
At one stage of my pree teen growth into my adolesence I was so obsessed, with celtic, enya-ish music, I don't even know how to generalize it as a particular genre, that for four years I played that music in my bedroom every night when I went to sleep.

In retropsect, as a music major in college, with one year left to complete my Bachelor's do I finally understand the pieces of the puzzle that came together from my adolesence, that made me the music "fiend" I am now. I almost feel that my love for what I do as a classical vocalist has placed a pause button on my appreciation for a lot more music. I find myself listening to Dvorak or Ravelle or Mozart for hours, and then listening to it over again. Without being overwhelmed.

Is this normal?
Perhaps the fact that I always thought I was a bit weird is expanding into wider ground than expected.

One thing I do wish for (warning: slight tangent ahead) is that whom ever I choose to love, can understandand appreciate my neurotic attachment to this particular art. For what it truly is.

listen to Dvorak if you want to daydream off into your brain...that's my current recommendation, particularly 'strings serenade' moderato.