A Facebook post I saw this morning reminded me that June 12 was the two year anniversary of the shooting in the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. One of many. They are all sad, or horrific.
Which means it is also the two year anniversary of my being summariliy and cruelly dumped by a lifelong friend, whom I will call "LC". I have written extensively about this here, and here, and here, in the immediate aftermath, but now I have had quite some time to reflect.
This "dumping" (my therapist told me that her email to me saying "this is my last note; do not respond in any way" was like the childish dismissive texts that millennials send when they're breaking up with a lover of a few months) was probably just about the cruelest thing that anyone I considered a "friend" has ever done to me. I have had friendships peter out, sometimes because that was what the other person wanted; sometimes because that was what I wanted. I have had quarrels with people (I had one with LC in 2004 or 2005 which ended with my dropping an F bomb on her). But I have never been dumped with no explanation by someone because she thought something I had said (or in this case not said), which was not personal, offended her values. Yes, values can end a friendship, but that's more in the vein of "I can't be friends with Trump voters". Which leaves the door open that maybe, 10 years from now, when Trump is out of office, if the two people see each other again, they might pick up the friendship.
What I considered so ugly about this whole thing was that LC encouraged me to probe deeply into my psyche (it was a two-way street), asking me questions, asking me more questions, until, apparently, I said something that deeply offended her.
Bait and switch. I first heard that phrase from LC, as a matter of fact, several decades ago, when she used it to describe an unfortunate experience buying a car, or a washing machine, I don't remember. I had never heard it before, but then again, as a lifelong New York apartment dweller, I don't do that kind of shopping. But I realize now that that is the most apt definition of what LC did to me. She encouraged me to be a virtual member of her "covenant group", which used "word prompts" to "speak their truth". I have been in groups like that in the past, in person, and one of the ground rules is that people speak their truth and they are not judged. So LC seduced me into that activity and then broke that rule. The word prompt for that month had been "blessings". So I began talking about "counting your blessings." Which prompted her to ask me what I meant when I said that. So I said that I needed to remember things like the fact that I had clean drinking water, a safe place to live, healthy food, and healthcare, because in the context in which I live I consider myself "underprivileged".
As I wrote in yesterday's post, it apparently offended her that I referred to myself as "underprivileged". But that was my truth, which was what this word game (I am deliberately disparaging it because she so grossly and evilly misused it) was about. Then - I guess - my asking her advice about something I considered a snub (something we had each done with each other many times) the day after the shooting in Orlando was probably, for her, the last straw.
Bait and switch. She not only broke the rules of this "covenant" she was so gung-ho about, she also abruptly changed the rules in the middle of our daily correspondence, without telling me, and then made it a deal-breaker. Not a temporary source of irritation as in "we're really not on the same page right now; I just can't listen to some of what you're writing to me about; let's take a break and catch up in the Fall", but never. Don't respond in any way.
Then she (obviously resentfully) sent me the promised (artificial) flowers for my birthday, then I apologized, saying if I had offended her I was sorry, then she said she was just going to say goodbye because she wanted to be kind (kind??? what planet is she living on?) and hoped we could part "on good terms". Really? Good terms?? (I suppose she meant her terms.)
Then she sent me a thank you note for a picture I had sent her daughter for a memory book and I wrote her the nastiest (but most carefully crafted, with nothing untrue or hyperbolic) letter in all caps, not an email, with no salutation and signature, asking her never to communicate with me again.
But I am still angry. What dawned on me over a year later is that I am so angry because she deprived me of a confidante like no other. So it was like coming home and finding all my furniture on the street with the door locked and no warning. I can't tell you how many times I will start musing (about Myers-Briggs, about people, about politics) and say to myself "Gee I should tell LC that" and then WHOA.
She did me a lot of damage. I guess my takeaway is that relationships based solely on what is politely referred to in therapy circles as "co-ruminating" are destined to end badly. Sure, I still share confidences with friends, but they are usually about things that are concrete (problems with my partner, feeling isolated, artistic yearnings that are unfulfilled, quarrels with other friends) and more importantly, this is not the bulk of our interaction. We usually share interests, eat together, even go on outings. So there's some substance there. And if friends live in the same city (someplace I never leave) even if there's tension, and a quiet backing away, we never know when we'll see each other in person and move closer again.
I hope writing this will help me evict LC from my head. She doesn't deserve to rent space there.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Some Musings on Children and Summer
Last week I went to the Central Park Zoo with my oldest friend. She had her 14-year-old grandson with her for the summer, so he came too. Based on things she had told me, I thought he was interested in wildlife, particularly birds, but he said no, he wasn't interested in birds, he preferred dogs, so I asked him about his dog. That was probably the last verbal interchange we had. After that his ears were so totally plugged up with whatever he was listening to (my friend said it was Rap, but I wouldn't have cared if it had been Bach) that he did not respond to any attempts to make conversation. I complained about it to my friend and she said "well, he's 14". I don't consider that a valid excuse. He needs to be taught that that sort of behavior just, as the British say "won't do". At what age are young people supposed to be taught manners, then? Fine if he looks sullen, fine if he looks bored. People can't be expected to control the fact that emotions show on their faces. That's acceptable for 14. But when you are someplace, that's where you are. You don't block out where you are with plugs in your ears. Of course adults do this too, and (because I'm an "ear person"?) I find this much worse than sitting and texting. At least if you're doing that and someone speaks to you you know you've been spoken to.
Fourteen was pretty much my last chance to take the right "fork in the road" and I didn't. I'm not sure what would have made a difference; there was such a terrible confluence of circumstances. An eating disorder, my mother's preoccupation with grieving over my father's death, my lack of adult mentors (most of the adults I saw in my mother's house were drinking and being smartass). And of course the fact that it was the 60s, when it was cool to say yes to drugs and no to just about everything else: school, career plans, thinking about a future, learning homemaking and budgeting skills... But even I would have responded if someone spoke to me in the course of an afternoon when my mother dragged me off to an "enrichment activity" with her friends. I might have said something stupid or something fresh, but I would have said something.
So I think of all the "theater kids" (did that phrase even exist before the millennium? I doubt it). And the kids who are in enrichment programs and intensive courses which means summers away in beautiful surroundings. Middle class kids have these things paid for by parents. Some less privileged kids can get scholarships if they're lucky. Sometimes I think there are two types of kids (irrespective of race or class). The ones who appreciate the chance to build a future and the ones who snub adults and try to be cool. As I said in an earlier post about marijuana, the world is too competitive and harsh to shoot yourself in the foot by saying no to your future to spite grownups. The fallout from that will still be with you when you're 60. I know.
Ah, summer! Since I haven't been working and have been a caregiver I haven't really had a summer. Another marker of being a middle-class professional: summers away. All those summer music festivals. Professional and emerging professional musicians get to go to these. Sometimes I shut my eyes and think how desperately I yearn to be someplace like that. There are ones for writers and artists too. I forget the generic catch-all phrase for these. Colonies?
I know that one of the things that antagonized the loathesome LC (in addition to my talking about myself instead of sobbing over the shooting in Orlando the week following) was that I referred to myself as "underprivileged". Well I think I am. I'm not really poor; I don't worry about how I'm going to pay the rent or buy food, and I have a few small luxuries, but I don't go away for the summer. That's what "underprivileged" means to me. That's why there's a "fresh air fund" for kids.
Maybe there's a music and arts "camp" for senior citizens. If I ever have some free time I will look for one and scrounge up the money.
Fourteen was pretty much my last chance to take the right "fork in the road" and I didn't. I'm not sure what would have made a difference; there was such a terrible confluence of circumstances. An eating disorder, my mother's preoccupation with grieving over my father's death, my lack of adult mentors (most of the adults I saw in my mother's house were drinking and being smartass). And of course the fact that it was the 60s, when it was cool to say yes to drugs and no to just about everything else: school, career plans, thinking about a future, learning homemaking and budgeting skills... But even I would have responded if someone spoke to me in the course of an afternoon when my mother dragged me off to an "enrichment activity" with her friends. I might have said something stupid or something fresh, but I would have said something.
So I think of all the "theater kids" (did that phrase even exist before the millennium? I doubt it). And the kids who are in enrichment programs and intensive courses which means summers away in beautiful surroundings. Middle class kids have these things paid for by parents. Some less privileged kids can get scholarships if they're lucky. Sometimes I think there are two types of kids (irrespective of race or class). The ones who appreciate the chance to build a future and the ones who snub adults and try to be cool. As I said in an earlier post about marijuana, the world is too competitive and harsh to shoot yourself in the foot by saying no to your future to spite grownups. The fallout from that will still be with you when you're 60. I know.
Ah, summer! Since I haven't been working and have been a caregiver I haven't really had a summer. Another marker of being a middle-class professional: summers away. All those summer music festivals. Professional and emerging professional musicians get to go to these. Sometimes I shut my eyes and think how desperately I yearn to be someplace like that. There are ones for writers and artists too. I forget the generic catch-all phrase for these. Colonies?
I know that one of the things that antagonized the loathesome LC (in addition to my talking about myself instead of sobbing over the shooting in Orlando the week following) was that I referred to myself as "underprivileged". Well I think I am. I'm not really poor; I don't worry about how I'm going to pay the rent or buy food, and I have a few small luxuries, but I don't go away for the summer. That's what "underprivileged" means to me. That's why there's a "fresh air fund" for kids.
Maybe there's a music and arts "camp" for senior citizens. If I ever have some free time I will look for one and scrounge up the money.
Sunday, June 10, 2018
My Four Quads
I wanted to stop by here to let readers know I am feeling much better.
I got another recital date in a senior residence: Monday July 23. The only problem is finding an accompanist. My regular accompanist always goes away for the summer and the new one I found will be away that week. So I'm putting feelers out. There's an accompanist at church who is really good and who is not busy 24/7, so I asked her and am waiting to hear back. I might sing a duet with my teacher this time, probably the "Barcarole" from La Gioconda.
This morning I did something that I never dreamed I would be able to do, and which I certainly would not have been able to do even as recently as last year. The choir sang a tiny snippet from Bernstein's Mass which entailed the sopranos singing four pianissimo high As. I nailed all of them not just this moring but every single time in every rehearsal. And in my warmups at home, I am singing sustained, float-y high Bs, and even the occasional C.
So it's totally untrue that voices lose range and flexibility as people age. It all depends.
I also got my summer choir solo date: June 8. I came up with an idea of something to sing and am waiting to hear back from the music director.
(As for the title of this post, I watch a lot of skating, and have always thought that the way skaters set themselves up for a jump is very similar to how singers - or I, anyhow - set ourselves up for high notes. So those pianissimo high As weren't just doubles or triples, they were quads!!)
I got another recital date in a senior residence: Monday July 23. The only problem is finding an accompanist. My regular accompanist always goes away for the summer and the new one I found will be away that week. So I'm putting feelers out. There's an accompanist at church who is really good and who is not busy 24/7, so I asked her and am waiting to hear back. I might sing a duet with my teacher this time, probably the "Barcarole" from La Gioconda.
This morning I did something that I never dreamed I would be able to do, and which I certainly would not have been able to do even as recently as last year. The choir sang a tiny snippet from Bernstein's Mass which entailed the sopranos singing four pianissimo high As. I nailed all of them not just this moring but every single time in every rehearsal. And in my warmups at home, I am singing sustained, float-y high Bs, and even the occasional C.
So it's totally untrue that voices lose range and flexibility as people age. It all depends.
I also got my summer choir solo date: June 8. I came up with an idea of something to sing and am waiting to hear back from the music director.
(As for the title of this post, I watch a lot of skating, and have always thought that the way skaters set themselves up for a jump is very similar to how singers - or I, anyhow - set ourselves up for high notes. So those pianissimo high As weren't just doubles or triples, they were quads!!)
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
A Bold Move
After a terrible experience getting harsh (and I suppose mostly gauche) negative criticism (it was so severe and all encompassing it completely took me aback and left me shaken for weeks) after posting some (badly engineered) sound clips at a time when I wasn't sounding as good as I would have liked, I have only once posted a video of myself singing here. That was in 2012 (the day after "Sandy Hook") and I posted a video made in church of me singing "Der Engel" by Richard Wagner, struggling to keep the whole thing pianissimo, and only using half my voice.
Well, now This video of me singing Rossini is the culmination of 14 years of hard work. I was debating whether or not to publish it here, and I know that I'm doing it partly because I'm proud and partly because I'm angry and depressed.
I know this is silly; I know how hard I've worked, how much progress I've made, everyone says it including my teacher and the choir director (I can sing a pianissimo high A off the cuff which I couldn't even do last year). But all I have to do is engage with real singers talking about singing and I feel like nothing. Like a tiny mouse who has found herself in a den of snakes. Sometimes they ignore me, sometimes I think they're laughing at me. Mostly I feel like someone who's stepped into an exclusive club where I don't belong. And I keep trying! I keep putting feelers out. Because I'm stupid and have no self-esteem.
(I'm also depressed now because I have no more solo singing on the horizon other than something in church in July or August tbd).
So here's "Tanti Affetti", one of the most flamboyant mezzo arias on the planet. Like it or lump it.
Well, now This video of me singing Rossini is the culmination of 14 years of hard work. I was debating whether or not to publish it here, and I know that I'm doing it partly because I'm proud and partly because I'm angry and depressed.
I know this is silly; I know how hard I've worked, how much progress I've made, everyone says it including my teacher and the choir director (I can sing a pianissimo high A off the cuff which I couldn't even do last year). But all I have to do is engage with real singers talking about singing and I feel like nothing. Like a tiny mouse who has found herself in a den of snakes. Sometimes they ignore me, sometimes I think they're laughing at me. Mostly I feel like someone who's stepped into an exclusive club where I don't belong. And I keep trying! I keep putting feelers out. Because I'm stupid and have no self-esteem.
(I'm also depressed now because I have no more solo singing on the horizon other than something in church in July or August tbd).
So here's "Tanti Affetti", one of the most flamboyant mezzo arias on the planet. Like it or lump it.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Second Recital and Some Random Thoughts
The second recital went well. The setting was less formal than that in the other nursing home and senior centers where I've sung, but that was OK. Most of the "noise" came from the area near the front door of the facility. The people in the room (including a girl who looked about 8 or 9) were very quiet.
I felt as if I sang better than before, but as there won't be any videos, I can't be sure.
I like the new accompanist. He is a wonderful musician and very supportive. I will probably stay with my primary accompanist as a first choice (he charges less and lives in a more convenient location, for one thing) but it's good to have a backup. Of course I had a tiny "ouch" moment when he said he would like to come back there and play because a setting like that is "a good place to try out" repertoire that he is going to be playing in a more formal setting. This made me wince because it is precisely that phenomenon that has shut me out of so many of even the humblest venues. The most blatant example to me is "Sing-Through Central" (a chance to sing operas from a book with other people, for a coaching fee) which is used by professionals and emergings to learn or test-drive roles, when an outfit like that should really be for amateur "living room singers" like me who want a chance to do something they love that they will never be able to do anywhere else. Will all the "outreach" venues go that route, I wonder?
But I can't think that way. I am now getting back into gear to find a new place to sing. I guess singing for seniors is my "niche". I have an affinity for the elderly, partly because I take care of one, and doing this is a chance to "give back" (although I don't really see it that way as it's my only chance to sing for an audience other than church, not something I do out of the goodness of my heart despite other opportunities beckoning) and a low-stress setting in which I can sing whatever I want to, more or less. And I refuse to think of what I'm doing as "second best" any more than I would ever think I've settled for "second best" because the charming, funny, sweet, romantic love of my life turned out to be someone bone idle and totally unable to manage time, money, or a living space. And now she's a frail senior. Which makes it easier because a frail senior by definition no longer can manage those things, so I no longer resent doing them for her. I can't see myself as a failure because neither I nor my spouse was ever an "upper-middle class professional". Our minister said something interesting in last Sunday's sermon. She said we as a society shouldn't only value people according to their ability to be "productive". That the "endless cycle of producing and consuming" is not what life is about.
Speaking of church, my voice keeps getting higher and I am more and more comfortable singing even a high soprano part if the alternative is a low alto part, or in any event, one that has such a minimal "arc" that I can't get my voice to do what it does best: make a big beautiful sound somewhere between the middle and the top of the staff. We sang the final chorus from Elijah, and the compromise was that the second sopranos sang soprano until we got to the little chunks of music where the sopranos were singing a high A at which point we sang with the altos. Of course I got completely lost. I wouldn't have if I had had time to rehearse, which I hadn't. I am not a natural harmonizer, don't sightread, and know nothing about music theory, so unless I am singing the top part (which is all I hear if I listen to any kind of recording) I have to drill my part over and over, singing "against" a recording with the volume turned way up. I probably should have just stuck with the soprano part and might even have been able to sing the high As. At this point I am not only "reaching" but blossoming on B flats, B naturals, even the occasional C, when I vocalize. Next week we are singing a tiny snippet of Bernstein's Mass. The sopranos have four piano/pianissimo high As, which I can definitely sing because there is a big break before each set of two.
As for the "random thoughts", I posted an article on Facebook about all the downsides to marijuana use. Yes, I begrudgingly (very begrudgingly) support legalizing recreational use if only so that young people of color don't end up with a criminal record for being caught smoking it or carrying it, but I am dubious. Social drinking is one thing; it can be considered part of fine dining. But the only reason for nonmedical use of marijuana is to get "high" or "stoned" and to me that is such a waste of human potential (ditto for drinking to get drunk or "wasted") that why make it easier for people. The people who will go hog-wild with it will mostly be under 25, which is the time period when young people need to be alert and at their best so that they can make plans about their future and carry these out. I know that the tragedy of my life isn't that I drank alcoholically and abused diet pills (I was never much of a marijuana smoker - I didn't like the way it made me feel; never mind that it made me hungry which was a deal breaker) but that I did it during the years between 18 and 25 when I could have been going to college, exploring extracurricular activities, making connections with people that could last a lifetime, and charting a course through adulthood. And I saw this with a great many of my peers. And some of them ended up dead, in prison, or permanently psychotic from taking LSD or even smoking hashish. Scrambling to earn a living and get a college degree at night between the ages of 27 and 40 did not allow me to accrue any of the advantages that young people are accruing today beginning in high school (at which point in my life I was so deep in an eating disorder that I might as well have been out of it on drugs). Theater kids? Did that concept even exist when I was growing up? That's who I'm competing with if I want to perform somewhere. The conservatory kids and theater kids who are now in their 30s, even 40s. Even the ones who never made a profession out of performing have that to draw on when all I have is a lovely voice and a good ear. And the nonperforming young people were deep into summer immersion programs when they were as young as 12 or 13. Those things stay with you. Which brings me back to my original point about marijuana. Smoking it when you're young and impressionable (a phase that neuropsychology believes lasts until the age of 25) is like deliberately saddling yourself with a handicap. The world is a harsh, difficult, treacherous, and competitive enough place to navigate. Why make it harder for yourself? If I remember and repeat to myself daily any slogan from AA it's "There's no situation so bad that drinking won't make it worse." Yes, there's no situation so hard that doing it stoned (or hung over) won't make it harder.
I felt as if I sang better than before, but as there won't be any videos, I can't be sure.
I like the new accompanist. He is a wonderful musician and very supportive. I will probably stay with my primary accompanist as a first choice (he charges less and lives in a more convenient location, for one thing) but it's good to have a backup. Of course I had a tiny "ouch" moment when he said he would like to come back there and play because a setting like that is "a good place to try out" repertoire that he is going to be playing in a more formal setting. This made me wince because it is precisely that phenomenon that has shut me out of so many of even the humblest venues. The most blatant example to me is "Sing-Through Central" (a chance to sing operas from a book with other people, for a coaching fee) which is used by professionals and emergings to learn or test-drive roles, when an outfit like that should really be for amateur "living room singers" like me who want a chance to do something they love that they will never be able to do anywhere else. Will all the "outreach" venues go that route, I wonder?
But I can't think that way. I am now getting back into gear to find a new place to sing. I guess singing for seniors is my "niche". I have an affinity for the elderly, partly because I take care of one, and doing this is a chance to "give back" (although I don't really see it that way as it's my only chance to sing for an audience other than church, not something I do out of the goodness of my heart despite other opportunities beckoning) and a low-stress setting in which I can sing whatever I want to, more or less. And I refuse to think of what I'm doing as "second best" any more than I would ever think I've settled for "second best" because the charming, funny, sweet, romantic love of my life turned out to be someone bone idle and totally unable to manage time, money, or a living space. And now she's a frail senior. Which makes it easier because a frail senior by definition no longer can manage those things, so I no longer resent doing them for her. I can't see myself as a failure because neither I nor my spouse was ever an "upper-middle class professional". Our minister said something interesting in last Sunday's sermon. She said we as a society shouldn't only value people according to their ability to be "productive". That the "endless cycle of producing and consuming" is not what life is about.
Speaking of church, my voice keeps getting higher and I am more and more comfortable singing even a high soprano part if the alternative is a low alto part, or in any event, one that has such a minimal "arc" that I can't get my voice to do what it does best: make a big beautiful sound somewhere between the middle and the top of the staff. We sang the final chorus from Elijah, and the compromise was that the second sopranos sang soprano until we got to the little chunks of music where the sopranos were singing a high A at which point we sang with the altos. Of course I got completely lost. I wouldn't have if I had had time to rehearse, which I hadn't. I am not a natural harmonizer, don't sightread, and know nothing about music theory, so unless I am singing the top part (which is all I hear if I listen to any kind of recording) I have to drill my part over and over, singing "against" a recording with the volume turned way up. I probably should have just stuck with the soprano part and might even have been able to sing the high As. At this point I am not only "reaching" but blossoming on B flats, B naturals, even the occasional C, when I vocalize. Next week we are singing a tiny snippet of Bernstein's Mass. The sopranos have four piano/pianissimo high As, which I can definitely sing because there is a big break before each set of two.
As for the "random thoughts", I posted an article on Facebook about all the downsides to marijuana use. Yes, I begrudgingly (very begrudgingly) support legalizing recreational use if only so that young people of color don't end up with a criminal record for being caught smoking it or carrying it, but I am dubious. Social drinking is one thing; it can be considered part of fine dining. But the only reason for nonmedical use of marijuana is to get "high" or "stoned" and to me that is such a waste of human potential (ditto for drinking to get drunk or "wasted") that why make it easier for people. The people who will go hog-wild with it will mostly be under 25, which is the time period when young people need to be alert and at their best so that they can make plans about their future and carry these out. I know that the tragedy of my life isn't that I drank alcoholically and abused diet pills (I was never much of a marijuana smoker - I didn't like the way it made me feel; never mind that it made me hungry which was a deal breaker) but that I did it during the years between 18 and 25 when I could have been going to college, exploring extracurricular activities, making connections with people that could last a lifetime, and charting a course through adulthood. And I saw this with a great many of my peers. And some of them ended up dead, in prison, or permanently psychotic from taking LSD or even smoking hashish. Scrambling to earn a living and get a college degree at night between the ages of 27 and 40 did not allow me to accrue any of the advantages that young people are accruing today beginning in high school (at which point in my life I was so deep in an eating disorder that I might as well have been out of it on drugs). Theater kids? Did that concept even exist when I was growing up? That's who I'm competing with if I want to perform somewhere. The conservatory kids and theater kids who are now in their 30s, even 40s. Even the ones who never made a profession out of performing have that to draw on when all I have is a lovely voice and a good ear. And the nonperforming young people were deep into summer immersion programs when they were as young as 12 or 13. Those things stay with you. Which brings me back to my original point about marijuana. Smoking it when you're young and impressionable (a phase that neuropsychology believes lasts until the age of 25) is like deliberately saddling yourself with a handicap. The world is a harsh, difficult, treacherous, and competitive enough place to navigate. Why make it harder for yourself? If I remember and repeat to myself daily any slogan from AA it's "There's no situation so bad that drinking won't make it worse." Yes, there's no situation so hard that doing it stoned (or hung over) won't make it harder.
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