How Do You Do? What Do You Do?

Years ago,  my mother (a brilliant woman with a scathing wit and a mediocre and dull work life) said it annoyed her that when she went to a party or gathering where she met new people, the first question anyone asked anyone was "what do you do?" as if what a person did for a living was a placeholder for whether or not that person was going to be interesting to talk to.  I suppose, in a way, the fact that that question is asked of everyone is an improvement over "olden times" (which includes my childhood and adolescence) when the first question anyone asked a woman was either "how old are your children?" or "what does your husband do?"

A discussion got going on Facebook, based on this meme

which had been circulating and which I reposted.

Someone asked me what would be a preferable question to ask someone and I said just to ask "tell me about yourself", which leaves the door open for the person to talk about what is most important to them, which could be family, career, faith, politics, avocational activities (I cringe at the word "hobby" because if anyone dares to call my singing a "hobby" despite my not getting paid for it I would delete them from my life forever).

I have been feeling blue again, which makes me want to kick myself, if for no other reason than people who are "blue" are boring and my life, God knows, is boring enough.

Some of it is probably because of my recovery from the fall: I did not go out of the house for four days.  I continued singing and practicing, though, and the breakthroughs I've made continue to hold.  I had a lesson yesterday and my teacher noticed it as well.  

I had a talk again in therapy about why I continue to feel so much self loathing over my lack of a career and credentials, especially as at the age I am now, with my limited resources, nothing is to be gained by my acquiring any and besides, no degrees or certificates I could get in any field at the age of 63 would make my life more interesting, enable me to earn enough extra money to make the expenditure of time and money worthwhile, or make me as interesting to other people as someone who went to the Manhattan School of Music or the Yale School of Drama as a young adult.

I think so much of this has to do with living in a vacuum.  When I spent a lot of time at "discussion groups" (of the 12 step variety of not) everyone's story was deemed equally important and the "stars" (I know, I know, there shouldn't be any) were the smooth, articulate, and confident talkers, which I always was.  And interestingly, there was little correlation between a person's real world accomplishments and their ability to tell their own story or discuss their own life vividly and engagingly.  And of course when I worked, I was as "important" as my job title.  But I continue to feel "lost in the shuffle" among all these credentialed congregants, for example, at the church where I sing.  I usually do get compliments on my singing if I have sung a solo (and despite my lack of musical education I always make sure I know my part perfectly once I have the music in hand, when I'm singing with the choir).  But the people who went to conservatories still "bond" with other people who went to conservatories and the people who went to drama schools still "bond" with the people who went to drama schools.  What I told my therapist was that "what do you do?" is I suppose the social equivalent of speed dating.  She asked me if I thought people who did not have interesting careers where not interesting and I said no, but if someone has an interesting answer to "what do you do?" that takes two minutes whereas it might take 15 or 20 minutes to discover that someone who works as a secretary, cashier, or mechanic, might also be interesting, if not moreso.

In any event, I would like to move on.  What I want is an interesting life, not an interesting job.  If I lived in the boonies, the fact that I sang the "Habanera"in a bookstore would make me a local diva; here, it is just something to laugh at because the fact that I did not get paid means I am not worth taking seriously. 

Well, I will be singing in a concert on September 12, and I am one of the more polished singers there, which means that my involvement with that is a pleasant experience.  And my mantra is if I am not getting paid, I refuse to be dissed, ignored, or pushed aside.  Otherwise I will take my talent, such as it is, elsewhere.

Yesterday at my lesson, I had a bittersweet feeling because my teacher is singing the High Priest in a concert version of Samson et Dalila and I sang through the big duet with him.  I thought I did well, although I had forgotten some of the recitative.  But I felt sad because apparently the woman singing Dalila is one of the mezzos who had a leading role in that production of Carmelites where I was humiliated in front of a bevy of people less than half my age, some of whom hadn't even bothered to learn their music and one of whom didn't even know how to pronounce French ("Dalila" wasn't one of them; she was quite professional).  She is in her mid-30s, a bit heavy, but very voluptuous and on her way to being one of the stars on the amateur opera circuit, which is what I so desperately wanted.  And her husband is a singer, so they are in it together.

I, on the other hand, now have to worry that my partner is going to schedule some minor surgery, which she had postponed for almost a year, the week of my concert and get obstreperous when I say I am not available.