Not a B**tch

Nothing much is really happening (other than that we had the second biggest snowstorm on record), but I didn't want the last post I made to be the one people see first if they stumble upon my blog.  I want to let it stand, though, because, first of all, the little meme I created is rather funny (and I am proud of my having been able to design it myself), and second, because the list I enumerated below it reflects how I feel a lot of the time.

I think of myself as a jealous b**tch (let's just say that the older I get, the more I understand Amneris, although the prize is not necessarily a man), but when all is said and done, I'm not.

Saturday there was a traffic ban, everything was closed, including all the Broadway shows, and as a consequence, Little Miss's opera performance was also canceled.  As it was in a rather prestigious venue, that I am sure is booked for the next year, there probably won't be a "rain" - or rather "snow" date, and I really did feel sorry.  I just have to say that however screamingly and sobbingly envious I am, I would never wish another person harm or bad luck, certainly not anyone who has never done anything to harm me or anyone else.  It made me feel relieved to realize that, which means I am a nicer person than I think I am. (As an aside, she did get to perform the role once, the previous weekend, hence all the [professional and press] photos on Facebook.)

To me there is a difference between wishing someone ill, and just wishing you didn't have to see them or hear about what they are doing.

Basically what it boils down to is that I am not aging gracefully.  I can't admit that some things will never be, no matter how hard I work, no matter how much native talent I was given.  I would never lie about my age, and don't care how old anyone thinks I look.  I don't even mind that much having to use a cane to get around in the snow (the only thing that makes me angry is the presumed universality of "snow glee", somehow transporting even the oldest geezer back to childhood, and totally ignoring the fact that there are people for whom the prospect of snow is frightening, not exhilarating).

What I mind are all the closed doors.  The assumed ones (like the opera company that told me I was not a "future investment", which to me is different from telling me I looked to old for a part, or that they worried that I was not physically mobile enough for a part), and then the real ones: no one is interested in someone moving toward the cusp of sounding as good as a professional, when she's 65.  It may be an interesting phenomenon (as my teacher has said, and as some of my age peers, who by their own admission do not sing as well now as they did ten years ago, have been astounded by) but that doesn't translate into offers.

When I was younger, if I was not happy with how something was going, there was always hope.  It might have been false hope, or I might not have achieved or received whatever it was I wanted, but I could enjoy the journey, because who knew where it might take me?

Now, sadly, the answer seems to be nowhere that is not of my own making.

That said, it is almost time to dress and go to my voice lesson, where I can work on Carmen - to be performed on May 2.