A Memoir, a Song, and a Short Story, or Amneris, not Joanna

This post started out as a Facebook post that no one responded to, so I decided it might do better as a blog entry.

Since Maya Angelou died recently, a lot has been written about her first memoir, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Thinking about the title of this book reminded me of a song that I had almost as turbulent a relationship with as I had with Dalila's "Mon Coeur": "Green Finch and Linnet Bird".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBnNyL5O0Tc&feature=youtu.be

I laughingly referred to it as "the Caregiver's National Anthem" even though it is written to be sung by a young ingenue (although as it sits in my comfortable range of middle C to high G, I have sung it and I believe I have sung it well although I sound nothing like the woman in the Youtube clip).

For years I felt like Joanna: trapped with someone elderly in a passionless life.  In fact, in some of my earlier online communities, my "tag" was "if I cannot fly, let me sing".

This song was, in fact, my final battleground with The Mentor.  He coached me through it ridiculing me and mocking me, screaming and making faces, and, before we were finished, telling me I looked like Norma Desmond.

(When it came time for me to actually sing the piece - in a church fundraiser - he was notably AWOL.  In any event, it was after that session that I decided that he and I needed to call it quits.)

I have had various degrees of identification with this song over the years, and yes, although my life is no longer passionless, I still sometimes feel like a prisoner.  But I know I am not.  And I haven't had any impulse to sing this in a long time.

The import of my original Facebook posting was that I had wondered if Sondheim had seen (or read) the Angelou  memoir when he wrote this song because of course, the theme of it is "Why the Caged Bird Sings".

Later, when I entered an online writing contest (one thing I am proud of that carried over from the pseudonymous blog that I eventually deleted) one of the "prompts" was "the Caged Bird" (was this also an homage to Angelou?) I wrote a three page short story about my experiences working in the "Data Factory", which was, I guess, a short version of my Cinderella play, which I have let languish.  The story was published in an anthology called Idol Meanderings.

If I am not Joanna, I am definitely Amneris these days, with or without those dreaded B flats.  I had a voice lesson Tuesday for the first time in almost a month.  I sang through most of the Amneris/Radames duet (that is what my teacher wanted).  It sounded as if the role had been written for me except - what else! - when I got to the section with the dreaded ascending scale I panicked, started breathing shallowly (if at all) and pretty much blew it although I did hit the note on pitch.  Of course when I went back and only sang the few measures leading up to the phrase itself it sounded like gangbusters.  Now, what my teacher told me to do (this surprised me) was to start at the beginning of the duet, singing as well as I know I can (and he told me the way most of this role is written is ideal for my voice) and then, well, just keep singing well, with my larynx down and my throat open, and my support working, and see what happens when I get there, but not to obsess and panic and spoil the rest of the piece.  And if it doesn't work, he said then I can go back and sing the phrase by itself.  (And in a few minutes, I will do just that!)

And: at last night's choir practice I sounded really good.  There is a piece we will be singing with a high A flat and it was like, easy peasy.  (Now the question is will it be that easy at 7:50 am when I have to give it a whirl in my bathroom before leaving the house?)

Self Referential

I very rarely make a blog post that simply refers back to another blog post, but this so says everything that I am feeling right now, and needs no updating, that I had to simply refer back to it.

A friend from the church where I sing who often chides me for being sad, or self-deprecating, is one of the people I referred to here as being surprised and astounded by things.  In fact, she made a post on Facebook yesterday quoting Hugh Jackman as having said "the wonderful thing about living in New York is that when you walk outside your building, everything you see is a surprise."  (Then people did a riff on the word "building" about how strange it seemed to them or their families.)

I just never have those feelings.

I wish I did.

I suppose the language of "immigrants" (that's all I can think of calling them because to me, most of the rest of America that is not a major metropolitan center with public transportation is more foreign than many foreign countries) continues to be - well, foreign, to me.

I so so so so desperately need a change.

Thumbs up and Thumbs Down

I'm off to sing the second soprano part in a very complex piece by Randall Thompson, but - as I was starting to tank thinking about all the "thumbs down" items on this list, I thought it would be good to have a post-Carmen check-in, and include all the "thumbs up" items as well.

Thumbs Up

1. I have tentatively begun revisiting the Amneris/Radames duet with the two exposed high B flats.  Per teacher's instructions, I am not trying to sing it all the way through.  I am singing pieces of it.  Everything sounds really good (ideally suited to my voice) until I get to "Chi ti salva" and then just the pure pace of the thing keeps me from maintaining the right energy balance.  So I am isolating that section working backward, measure by measure.  I can sing the reprise (beginning with the second "dei miei pianti") just fine.  So the tension must creep in before that.  Certainly the note sounds much much better than several years ago.  And I tried a bit of "happy", which seems to give me the extra energy boost I desperately need.  My goal is, unless I have a definite date to sing something, to stick with perfecting this rep for a while and keep my voice in that "big" place.
2. Last Wednesday I had a ball at choir practice.  Why?  I was the only second soprano.  Sure, I love all my pals, but there's nothing I love like showing people that I can hold a part like that (which is in the best part of my voice) on my own.  So I need to do that again in a few hours, and sing the opening high G (all the sopranos are together) with a big, but not a loud sound.  I proved Wednesday I could do that too, for the most part, although after four counts I know the note starts to get screamy because it takes more support to keep it spinning than to holler it.
 3. I emailed the young violinist about singing "Erfreute Zeit" in August.

Thumbs Down

A propos of the concert my teacher (and my Don Jose) are singing in, I see that DJ posted an invite to it on his Facebook page.  Did he post an invite to our Carmen?  No.  You see, this is what I mean about people not taking me seriously.  At least he didn't nasty-nicely tell me not to post a picture from it on his wall, which is the sort of thing other people I know might have done.


Thumbs Up and Thumbs Down

From the above-referenced post, I see that the mezzo my teacher is using is someone very high level.  So, OK, I can't complain this time that he picked someone no better than I am.  She sang both Dalila and Kundry in Parsifal with him at one point.  But the issue still remains that he doesn't think it part of his job as a teacher to create concerts where I could sing even one or two things.  (Most of his other students are people he picks up from the pay to sing group he is involved with, so they already have a ready made place to sing.)  So, again, there's the issue of not being taken seriously.


Well, the best way I can show that I take myself seriously is to warm up to a high A, and be in tip top shape for Randall.

New Year's Resolutions: Check In

Pursuant to the conversation I had with my therapist last Friday about "depression", she told me to listen to "the smartest person in the room".  When I disingenuously asked her who that was (assuming she meant me), she said "the BabyD who wrote the New Year's Resolutions" (which I had shown her).

So I thought maybe it is time for a check in, to see how I am doing.

1. Get off the following merry-go-round: Working at home alone makes me depressed, not working enough hours gives me financial anxiety which makes me more depressed, and the idea of using my pittance of free time to try to find something else to do for a living is the most depressing of all.  To do instead: Work as many hours as I have to, admit that I hate doing it, that this is something that it is too late to change, as finding a new livelihood at my age would require a prohibitive amount of time, money, or both, and make the rest of my life as colorful, richly peopled, sensual, and right brain as possible.
I have held to my decision to take "how to earn a living" off the table as a topic.  When I had my taxes done in April, I saw that I had earned $1000 more last year than the previous year and guess what?  It all went back to the tax man.  This year on the whole, I have been happier, and guess what? I am working less and earning less than I did the year before.  Sometimes I think I would rather sleep in a shelter and sing in the subway (if I had to) than spend any more hours moving punctuation around, but I may be exaggerating.  Well, I can continue to spend my mother's savings (I still have two 401ks in addition) and remind myself it is only a little more than two years until I can collect Social Security.  As for making the rest of my life as colorful, etc. as possible, yes, I was doing that when I was working on Carmen.  So now what? [Let's say for this I get a grade of B.]

2. Do everything I can to jump-start my imagination.  I am finding small ways to do this, even just looking for pictures for "Throwback  Thursday" on Facebook. [Let's say for this I get a grade of B plus.  At least it's something I am mindful of most of the time.]

3. Tell myself every day that yes I am an artist (singer, writer) even if this isn't what I do for a living.  This is hard, because I am surrounded by people who do do this, if not for a living, then as an almost full-time activity.  I did a head count and see that half the people in my choir perform or have performed regularly somewhere else or have a degree in theater or music.  I would guess that more than 20% of the other people in the congregation do something in the performing arts either in administration or pedagogy even if they don't perform.  And I live on Manhattan's Upper West Side - because I have a rent regulated apartment.  If I could choose where to live, I would probably move to Murray Hill, which is a lot more vanilla and where I would stand out more. The fact that my Carmen had, in essence, to compete with someone's senior recital at a conservatory for conversational attention never mind for attendees, says it all. [Definitely a grade of D for this one.]

4. Spend more time with "ordinary folk" (not easy when you live on Manhattan's Upper West side).  See item 3.  Where are these people???? [A grade of F.]

5. Stop reading blogs from working performing artists who one way or another, find ways to disparage amateurs, whether it's me or Miss Kansas, and get these people off my Facebook list (mostly done).  This is done. I have also reorganized my Facebook friends list so that the singers I friended because I admired them, who mostly did not care about me at all, are not listed as "close friends" so I see their postings less often. [A big thumbs up!  This gets a grade of A.]

6. Treasure every minute with my SO.  She is almost 80. I am doing this.  One of the main reasons I am working less isn't (sigh) that I am singing more; it's that I am spending more time with my SO.  Even it it's just doing laundry.  Every time I look at her I know that any day I could lose her: she has heart disease and COPD.  I am taking her to Ogunquit for her 80th birthday and screw all the money it will cost.  That's what the money is there for, isn't it? [This also gets a grade of A.]

7. Always have a solo singing gig in my future.  So far I am staying on top of this, even it it's not a definite date written in stone.  [I will give myself a grade of B.]

8. Spend more time working on the non-technical skills I need to sing.  I have been doing more of this.  Carmen was the first thing I did requiring staging in 35 years.  And I am working on my Spanish diction, and as a byproduct, am acquainting myself with the IPA.  I still can't bring myself to study the solfege book, though. Part of the problem with this, though, is time.  If it's a choice between studying a language or doing vocal exercises and studying music, the latter wins out. [So I'll give myself a grade of C plus, but I'm ok with that.]

9. Write more, even just this blog.  I have not really done this at all, unless you consider the work I did creating a script from the novella of Carmen.  But, per item 8, time is the issue. [So I'll give myself a grade of C minus, but I'm ok with that.]

10. Take more risks. I really don't know if I have done this or not.  I certainly feel like I am playing Russian Roulette with my finances.  On the other hand part of me regrets bitterly that I chose short term financial security over a career (even if not in the performing arts) that I would really find fulfilling. I suppose that performance of Carmen was taking a risk.  And I am reacquainting myself with Amneris and Azucena. [So I suppose this gets a grade of C plus.]

So.  Looking at this I see - again - that my Achilles heel is the environment that I'm in.  It is very very hard to feel good about myself and my accomplishments when I am drowning in a tsunami of talent and become, therefore, invisible.  I have the odd personal friend here and there who gives me encouragement but that is not the same as being perceived as a performer or an artist by the people I meet in my daily life.  I really am at a total impasse about this.  I can't move.  First of all I am from here so there is noplace to go "back to" where the standards are lower and the talent pool is smaller. Ironically, there is noplace I could live more cheaply than in this apartment.  I don't know how to drive.  It really is a sad bit of irony.  I'm sure I would be in Seventh Heaven if I lived, say, in Leonardtown, Maryland (where a friend of mine from Maine moved to be near her daughter, and for the "quiet").  I could take a bus into Baltimore once a month for a singing lesson and put together local "talent shows" where I would get to sing an aria for people who may never have heard one, be the go-to soloist at a local church, and educate people about classical music.  I mean I know there are people in New York who are not performers (and therefore would see me as one even for the small things I do) but I haven't a clue where to find a group of these people all in one place, nor do I have time for any more "activities".

Still Grieving

Well, I'm still grieving, and I'm also angry at myself for grieving, so it's a double whammy.  I just can't make it stop.

I told my therapist I was experiencing postpartum depression and she said no, that was not true, that women with postpartum depression are in a deep clinical depression where they often can't get out of bed, or feel suicidal, and that is not how I feel.

I just feel endlessly frustrated and endlessly sad, that no matter what I do, how well I think I have done it, how much fun I had doing it, and how many compliments I get from the (tiny handful) of people in the audience, when all is said and done, and I am back to mingling with the tsunami of people from conservatories and music programs, who "work" in the performing arts every day (I put the word "work" in quotes because the issue isn't whether or not they make money, but the ratio of how much time they spend doing it to how much time they spend doing other things)  I feel that I am nothing.  Just a mature woman who sings in a choir and watches Masterpiece Theater.  Nobody special or artistic, not a theater animal.

No I don't feel suicidal; I feel like screaming. Like painting myself gold and standing topless in Central Park.  Doing something to make people gasp and stop and stare and engage with me on a level beyond the mundane.

Apparently this summer Little Miss Conservatory got into a YAP where she will be singing a leading role.  That must mean that she is exceptional even among her peers, not just in this choir.  Most people whom I have bumped elbows with over the years who had involvements with YAPs, even ones who ended up having careers, had to start out in the chorus when they were her age.  Of course I congratulated her and gave her a big hug; she is a lovely, lovely young woman and I don't begrudge her anything.  But I wanted to cry and cry and cry and cry and never stop.  The way the woman who always wanted a child and never had one might want to cry because it is Mothers Day.  I wanted to cry for the teenager who thought losing ten pounds was worth developing a two pack a day cigarette habit, who went clubbing when she could have been groomed for a singing career, who was satisfied with being the prettiest fem on the dance floor instead of putting in the hard work.  Who was told uptight white girls from Brooklyn Heights should take advanced math, not singing lessons. Who was told Lesbians don't sing opera; it's a patriarchal art form.  Who had friends who read beat poetry instead of practicing musical instruments.  I just wanted to cry and cry and cry.

However hard I work, however much ingenuity I put into planning something like this Carmen there is just never enough time, never enough resources, never enough validation.  What should impress me, I suppose, is that no matter how hard I have to fight to be seen and heard and acknowledged and engaged with, I don't give up.  I won't.  I can't.  I would rather sing than eat good food or have a nice outfit, or see a movie or buy gadgets.  The only thing, I suppose, that is more important, is the live of my loved one.  I told someone yesterday that she was the love of my life, even though now the relationship is mostly about caregiving.  This woman was very impressed and told me that even though she was almost 40, she had never met anyone whom she could consider the love of her life.  So I guess many people are grieving about something.

And the upside of this, is maybe Little Miss Conservatory will launch her career with a bang and won't come back.  Then everyone will be happy.  She will be on her way to success, and maybe I can have my little corner back?  Even if nobody notices, I am the only one of the "mature amateurs" who practices every day.  No, it's not a hobby.

The Drop

Well, surprise!

I was expecting to feel a letdown, but it still hurts.

First of all, I really do think that the woman who produced the concert is angry at me, either because it was not well enough attended (I think she thought my entire congregation would show up), or because it was not as polished as she thought it should be (I totally agree that it needs polishing, but when and with what aim and with whose help?) or because we had some misunderstanding about money, which I thought was patched up, but maybe she does not. I suppose I think this because she did not write to me (even in response to my writing to her to thank her for her help) to say anything nice, supportive, or encouraging.  On the other hand, maybe as I said that I would be back to rehearsals, etc. at her house in June, she is turning her attention to other things.

But I am left with an "empty" feeling.

I know all the people who did come really enjoyed it, and aside from forgetting to take my glasses off, I think I sang (certainly I acted) close to my personal best.

The biggest problem is that I just don't (can't) do enough of these things.  When I posted something on Facebook about feeling depressed having to go back to my mundane life a friend (who had been to my performance and complimented me on it) said that well, most performers have day jobs.  This is true, but many of those at least have time, money, and resources (not to mention familial good will) to spend most of their non-day-job time involved with performing.  Many of them are married to or partnered with other performers with day jobs, so they are in it together.

Other than church solos (which there seem to be fewer and fewer opportunities for) and going to voice lessons and working on technique and repertoire at home, it is very difficult for me to justify throwing a lot of time, money, and energy into something.

And whether or not I earn money performing, the fact that I don't even do it all that often means that people forget that that is who I am when I am surrounded by conservatory students, music teachers, and people who came to New York to eke out a living in the performing arts, sort of.  I just sort of blend in with the other women my age who sing in the choir as a hobby.  I know I know I know that I shouldn't be looking for validation from other people, but if people don't engage with the "me" that is important to me, but engage with  me as someone else, the performer "me" just sort of gets lost.

I guess I have to take compliments where I find them.  I was interviewing a cleaning woman for my partner and I told her what I do for a living (a propos of my partner telling her I worked at home) and she said she was quite surprised, that looking at me she thought I was an actress.

I think the reason I am so upset about the (real or perceived) falling out with the concert producer is that she was the only person who suggested things for me to do, sing, look at, think about, etc.  My voice teacher gives me exercises to sing (often based on what I tell him I am having difficulties with) but he has never suggested any place for me to sing or given me ideas for anything to do and in fact I am angry with him again (I am not sure how to address this) because he has once again found another mezzo to replace his wife in a concert.  He has never asked me to sing even one thing in any of his concerts.  If I ever did leave him as a teacher it would not be for technical reasons, or because he does not have a conservatory degree, but because I wanted a teacher who at least would give studio recitals that I could sing in.  The choir director has never suggested a solo for me to sing.  All the ideas come from me.  And I don't even have friends (with one possible exception and she does not live here) who ask me what I'm doing next, or who nag me or prod me, or who even care if I am performing or not; even people who compliment me on performances they have come to.

ETA: I finally did get an email from the concert producer, complimenting me on the performance.  I mean of course there are things that needed improvement, the main issue is that I need to feel I am worth teaching and mentoring and I suppose she still does.  She mentioned the Spanish songs I want to sing and told me to buy copies of the music (which I had already done; they are in a book of Spanish songs she had suggested that I buy).  So things look a little brighter today than they did yesterday...

Brief Debrief

Before I take my computer to be repaired, I just wanted to make a brief post about yesterday's performance, and post some pictures.

All in all, I was happy about how it went.  I sang well,  I acted well, and I had a ball.  I did make one huge gaffe which simply would not happen in a professional performance: I was reading along with the script offstage, so when I came on for one scene I had my glasses on!  Of course in a professional performance there is someone in the wings who checks you before you go on stage, so something like this would not happen.

Eight of the 13 people I invited showed up, and they all enjoyed it.  My sense is that the producer was lukewarm about it.  I don't know what that means.  There are some people who only make critical suggestions and don't pay compliments, so maybe she is one of them.  That is ok.  I just hope I can sing with her again.  What she said was that it needed "tweaking" (not a surprise! we only had two runthroughs and this is the first time I did anything with staging that had to be memorized in 35 years).  She mentioned that I had to stay in character when came on and off the stage, which was a useful piece of feedback.  The problem is that I do these things so infrequently that I don't have a chance to tweak or refine anything really.  She did compliment me on having memorized all that music, and implied that there would be a "next time" for this piece.

Next up: she is producing a concert for Hispanic Heritage month, so I am hoping I can sing two Manuel Garcia songs that inspired the Habanera.  I also hope I can sing "Erfreute Zeit" as a summer anthem.  And I keep hearing from the filmmaker intermittently about singing the Bach aria in her film, but she seems not to understand that she can't just give me a week's notice.  If nothing else, I will need to reserve an accompanist and their schedules really fill up.

A Rocky Road

It's so ironic.

I have been having the time of my life getting ready for this Carmen (which is tomorrow!), but I have also been really fighting illness, which is totally uncharacteristic.  I have this problem with chronic sinus drainage, but I never catch things.  The concert producer said that maybe my immune system has been weakened by a lack of Vitamin C, now that I don't eat or drink any citrus.  On the other hand, when I mentioned this to my ENT, she said there is plenty of Vitamin C in green vegetables, which I eat a lot of.

Last Thursday I woke up with a low grade fever, but I took some tylenol, and went to the final runthrough, and sang my personal best. Friday I did some work at home.  Saturday morning I sang at a funeral (just anthems with the choir and the second soprano part in a solo women's quartet by Schubert).  Sunday my chords felt irritated.  Monday I had a lesson and my teacher said he didn't hear anything odd, although I could not vocalize past a B.  Usually I can make it up to a C in the studio although not always at home.  So he gave me strict instructions as to how much singing to do/not do going forward.  Tuesday I went to see the producer, and we worked on staging and she gave me a few props and accessories (what I meant by "having a ball").  My windpipe by that point actually hurt when  pressed it, which made me cough, but nonetheless I got through part of "Chanson Boheme" including the high G sharp, which is one of the nervous making notes because it is a big note.  Wednesday that pain was gone, but through Friday I felt that there was a lot of mucus on my chords so I sounded hoarse particularly early in the day.  I sang a little Wednesday but not Thursday or Friday (those days I just did some warming up - to an A flat, which seemed to be ok).  Last night for the first time I had trouble sleeping because the mucus had moved down into my chest, so I kept coughing.  I finally fell asleep at 2.  I woke up at 8, which actually for some people would be enough sleep, but  usually sleep 8 or 9 hours.

I have been on a regimen of steaming, Neti pot, Vicks, and mucinex.  I may take a mucinex tonight as well as tomorrow morning if I think it will keep me from coughing.  My voice actually sounds less hoarse now that all the mucus has moved down.  Today is do or die.  I have to warm up to an A (my teacher said nothing higher until tomorrow, when I can sing the ending of the Seguidilla to see if can make it up to that B flat).  I will run through Act IV.  Then I will run through the whole thing mouthing the words and seeing if I can do the staging in my heels.

No matter what, I will perform tomorrow. I know I will give a good performance even if  I don't sing my best.

I have just been having so much fun.  I love fooling around with props and costumes (on me, not other people) almost as much as I love singing.  I had hoped to find a job where I could experience that, but it never panned out.  I promised my therapist I would stop agonizing over how much I hate what I do for a living and the hopelessness of doing something else, and just view myself as "bridging toward retirement" and try to do as little of this paying work as I can get away with and enjoy the rest of my life as much as I can.

In case anyone might worry: I will definitely post something about how the performance went but it might not be until Tuesday night, because I am sleeping over tomorrow night with my partner (I am on tenterhooks as to how she will react to my performance, which will be quite realistic) and Monday afternoon I have a lot of errands to catch up on, including taking my laptop to have the keyboard replaced.  (The only way I can type an "e" is to push the key down with a stylus).