Saturday, October 22, 2011

Baby D Posts a Want Ad

Friday I was talking to my therapist about how unhappy I am that I can't seem to find a meaningful way to participate in any of these Meetups, Sing-Things, Soirees, etc.

This is for at least three reasons: I have limited time,I have limited confidence, and I have no peer group or support system, even a support system of one (meaning a family member or peer who would come with me to some of these things).

When I started going to these kinds of things, I really thought I would meet some kind of peer group there and be able to network. Did I have an overly aggrandized view of myself? Why didn't anything click? Yes, I was nervous, but to some extent so is everyone. But most of the people I saw at those things had a history, and with that history came relationships, and out of relationships came opportunities to do things together, commiserate, support each other, make plans. The problem is aside from being one of a pool of choir soloists, I don't have anything like that, so I would go to those things and feel very alone. I would feel nervous, not to mention depressed because often I would have had a fight with my partner beforehand about why I was going at all, then I would feel that I didn't sing my best, and then I would get no feedback - I don't even mean feedback about my singing, I mean feedback about my place in the whole universe of singing.

To paraphrase Soujourner Truth, all the beginners were young and all the mature people were polished (and the mature people were barely in their late 40s).

So whom did I think I would meet at one of these things? A late-starting classical singer who wanted more than just being a soloist in a amateur chorus or choir but didn't have the time to rehearse an opera four nights a week? Someone who could sing his/her way through an aria or scene well enough to please an audience but not well enough to impress the cognoscenti??

So where are these people???? Do they even exist??

One thing I miss about that horrid Unitarian church was at least when I was there they did all sorts of things besides church services - cabarets, etc., so I could get up and sing an aria and be a diva for an evening, wear something fabulous, get a lot of applause, and not overtax myself. And usually I would know about this at least two months in advance so I could prepare myself.

The church where I sing now doesn't do these sorts of things.

Up until recently, I was measuring myself against how well I could sing the material I was singing. I had no idea, really, how extremely low down the food chain I was because I didn't really fathom the mass of talented people who were doing this.


So what do I want (I mean besides wanting to be able to sing well and put on some kind of something once or twice a year.)? (My last post was about how I defined success. OK. I know that. What I'm asking myself is what kind of environment do I want that I so desperately feel I don't have?)

So here goes:

SUPERANNUATED DIVA WITH MODEST TALENT is seeking classical singers over 50 who are not "professionals", "emerging professionals", or "managed". Preferably those who started singing late, sing well enough to slog through some operatic rep without making the audience cringe but don't have the time or money to get it together to sing this sort of material in public more the two or three times a year. A love of dressing to the nines and chewing up the scenery a plus.

I cynically thought of posting something like this on the forum but even thinking about that place makes me want to crawl under the couch.

There's also something Wizard of Oz-ish about all this, too. The Wizard told the Scarecrow he didn't need a brain, he needed a degree. There's a part of me that thinks what I need isn't a voice (I've got that) or a techniqiue (I've got a lot of that and who has it all anyhow?) or ever "the noive" as the Cowardly Lion says, but someone to validate me. A buddy who says "Hey, are you going to the Meetup on ____________?" "Let's go," gives me a shove and a smile, some honest feedback, and a promise that soon we would be back again.

No comments:

Post a Comment