Valentine's Day

For the past six years, I have done most of my writing of a personal nature under a pseudonymn, where I could write about things I can't write about here, but as time goes on I get somewhat bolder (the more compellingly I write here, the more readers I will get) albeit still careful not to write anything that would cause anyone else hurt, or me, embarrassment.

But as my life, for good or ill, changed forever on February 15, 2004, in ways that I both can and can't write about in a public blog, I began rooting around my pseudonymous posts for something profound to say about that day, and about how far I've come.

It has been 7 years since The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed and I sang "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" together,ending with his spinning me around in his arms, bending me over backwards, staring into my eyes like Svengali, and changing me forever. It has been a long and painful journey, but I would never want to go back. In that moment I changed from a rather stuffy middle-aged woman, who had once sung opera, once been sensual and passionate, and now worked in a corporate job, wore suits that were two sizes too big, and had recently begun attending church, to someone who wanted to sing and embrace life with passion more than anything else in the world, even if it meant burning every bridge I'd ever walked over. I found God in that church, and my voice after more than two decades, but I also found passion that was painfully unrequited, a mentor who gave me my voice but tore me to shreds, and, later, my voice as a playwright, a new voice teacher (actually my old one from the 1970s), and a new church to sing in where I loved the music and was welcomed with nothing but love and respect despite my skepticism about their theology.

In 2008 I got to sing Dalila with a real Samson and now am a bona fide dramatic mezzo working on Amneris and Azucena (although God knows where I'll get to sing that material!)

Every Valentine's Day I ponder my pre-2/15/04 self, and wonder if I would be happier if I could turn the clock back and have things as they were. I don't think so.

Now I am off to have a nice lunch with my partner at La Petit Auberge, a charming French restaurant barely ten paces from her apartment, where we can always eat without worrying about getting her there. Old fashioned and charming. My pre-2/15/04 self would have been happy to do that, and I will be too!