This afternoon I sang my 2018 recital program for the third time. It was at a new senior residence, with a room that was too small for me to invite guests, although the piano was good. I didn't feel that I sang as well as the first two times (my highest notes didn't sound as good) but my teacher said that the problem was that the room had a low ceiling which muffled the sound, so that my voice didn't "spin".
But the audience was appreciative, except for one woman who glared and only applauded selectively (she did not applaud for "Tanti Affetti" but did for "Cruda Sorte" and "Mon Coeur"), and then left.
I certainly would be happy to sing there again.
I think this is the last time for this particular program, and I may retire "Tanti Affetti" for quite some time now.
My teacher and I are discussing reviving our 2015 concert of duets. We may replace the Gioconda material with a duet from Favorita, which means that I will sing the aria from Favorita as well. Actually, I should call it Favorite, because my teacher is singing one of the bass roles in French, so he will give me a copy of the music for the duet and my aria in French.
And if we do that particular concert we will do the Enrico/Giovanna duet from Anna Bolena, which I love.
Something I realized yesterday is that I am probably happier now than I have been in close to 15 years. I was very happy for the most part in my 30s and 40s (I was not singing then, but did a lot of traveling and socializing and had one "fun" job, which, although mainly about paper pushing, had all sorts of meetings, lunches, and business trips interspersed between the dull work, which was how things were back before the Internet. I mean I love the Internet, but it definitely drained all the "social" out of a lot of boring jobs.) In my 50s I was happy somewhat, but my relationship with my partner definitely had begun to deterioriate. I was working very hard at a senior management job, and coming home and making dinner because - what - she had arthritis??? And she was becoming more and more disagreeable. Then I discovered singing, and The Mentor, and all bets were off. I became someone else. I don't want to rehash all that here; I have done it enough. During that period I was often euphoric, so I suppose that was a form of happiness, but then everything came crashing down. My relationship with him became abusive, I found the minister to be unsympathetic, and she decided to do away with all the classical music. So I was pretty much vocally homeless. I discovered (over a period of 10 years at least) that no matter how well I thought I sang, I would never be competitive on the Upper West Side of Manhattan where as soon as one group of "emerging professionals" moved on, another took their place. No "amateur" opera group wanted me; they could get professionals. And I felt beset on all sides. If I wanted to produce something myself it was hard to get people to come (who would want to come to a homemade concert of opera scenes if they could hear real music - aka someone's senior recital at one of the three conservatories here?)
And on top of all that I had taken early retirement from my job (which I had come to hate) only to replace it with working at home, alone, at my laptop hour after hour, taking breaks by reading blogs of real singers who were never in the same city for more than a few weeks and endlessly posted pictures of themselves in costume or solicited feedback on their latest head shots. And I felt totally misunderstood. If I posted or blogged things about how unhappy my colorless life was making me, I was told to just "pull up my socks" because of all the people who had suffered major tragedies who nonetheless always had a full social calendar (I am thinking of one woman in particular who trashed me in a comment to a personal blog - not this one - when she hardly knew me).
Things began to improve when I turned 66 and could collect Social Security. I decided that I would never have a "dream career" (musical or not) so I just had to hold my nose, spend 20 hours a week at home copyediting, and then fill my life with nonremunerative activities that I found fulfilling. Then my partner got on Medicaid. In some ways, my life as a caregiver looks harder, because I am responsible for coordinating her round the clock care and managing her business affairs, but it really isn't. I'm an unpaid Geriatric Care Manager, which is certainly a much more interesting "job" than being a full-time freelance copyeditor (being a part-time one I can stomach) and more importantly, I feel that what I do matters. I am making the end of someone's life more comfortable and sweeter than it would be otherwise.
As for singing, ironically, despite the fact that I keep singing better and better, that singing is easier and easier, my range is wider, and I have more stamina, I have made my peace with the fact that there is no place for me in the "world" of singing as singers (I mean the "Forum Crowd") experience it. That's OK. I have made a specialty now of singing in nursing homes. The audiences are appreciative and I don't have to worry if my friends do or don't come. Some of the facilities are large enough to accommodate guests, others are not, but for the ones that are, if five of my friends come, that's enough. And I even got some nice videos. I don't go to the opera, even though it's around the corner. And while I would go to something at Lincoln Center if someone bought me a ticket (or someone wanted to go and we made it a social thing), I will never go to any performances by all those opera companies that rejected me. And except for a handful of people who have gone out of their way to be supportive and nice, I have unfriended all the singers I once friended because I envied and admired them. My mornings with Facebook are much happier now that most of my interactions (usually with people from church or former coworkers) involve more parity and less of a feeling that I am an unwanted tagalong, only suffered if I know my place.
For now, anyhow, I am contented being a small town girl who just happened to be born in a big city and never moved.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Monday, July 23, 2018
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Azucena Deconstructed
First, about the new color. I submitted my blog for some feedback, and one thing that was said was that the black background was not a good fit. So I am trying red. As a diva, there can never be too much red in my life, right?
Of course diddling around with anything techie makes me nervous, so I tend not to change things once that aspect is taken care of. Surprisingly, though, I am much better at handling technology that I think I am and am much better than most people my age. I installed Windows 10 by myself, for example. I think one issue is simply that I am not photographed very much and therefore have very few visuals to add here.
But now to the import of this post. I have a date to sing the Azucena scenes from Trovatore at the LGBT senior center on Monday October 17. I know what scenes I'm singing. I couldn't find a copy of the original play in English, so my teacher's wife can read from the libretto.
For all things Trovatore, go here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Il_trovatore
The amazing thing I discovered when telescoping the opera is that the entire romantic story between Leonora and Manrico can be removed and you've still got the story!! It's really about Azucena, her mother, the count who sentenced her mother to death, his brother, and Azucena's son (and which is which).
So I'm now wondering if the readings should fill the Leonora story in, or if it can just be omitted entirely and instead the readings will set the scene for what the audience will be hearing (like speaking the words to Ferrando's opening aria, for example).
In any event, I am really singing this very well, including the B flats. I thought the breakthrough in early 2015 was "it", but now I seem to have made another. I not only now can attack a B flat or a B natural off the cuff, I can do it full voice!! In my last two practices I sang two off the cuff B naturals that were truly O Don Fatale worthy! Is that in my future?
And when I started looking at Act 4 something interesting happened, which surprised me. Looking at all the opening recitative and imagining a woman sitting in a prison cell, knowing that she is going to be burned to death actually gave me the creeps. I mean I could actually feel what she was feeling. Now, OK, I know once I actually sing that music I can't do that (The Mentor once said "You are not supposed to feel anything; you are supposed to make the audience feel something") but it was interesting that I was that moved. I was not moved that way by the Act 2 music, probably because in that act she's having flashbacks not in terror about her own future. I was going to write that nothing like that had even happened to me when I was working on a role, but that of course is not true. If singing Dalila or Carmen always ended up making me horny, it makes sense that singing Azucena would take me to a very dark place, existentially. According to my teacher, she has PTSD from having spent her life in an intergenerational world of violence.
So now I'm all fired up!! (no pun intended) and am really looking forward to the next two months!!
Of course diddling around with anything techie makes me nervous, so I tend not to change things once that aspect is taken care of. Surprisingly, though, I am much better at handling technology that I think I am and am much better than most people my age. I installed Windows 10 by myself, for example. I think one issue is simply that I am not photographed very much and therefore have very few visuals to add here.
But now to the import of this post. I have a date to sing the Azucena scenes from Trovatore at the LGBT senior center on Monday October 17. I know what scenes I'm singing. I couldn't find a copy of the original play in English, so my teacher's wife can read from the libretto.
For all things Trovatore, go here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Il_trovatore
The amazing thing I discovered when telescoping the opera is that the entire romantic story between Leonora and Manrico can be removed and you've still got the story!! It's really about Azucena, her mother, the count who sentenced her mother to death, his brother, and Azucena's son (and which is which).
So I'm now wondering if the readings should fill the Leonora story in, or if it can just be omitted entirely and instead the readings will set the scene for what the audience will be hearing (like speaking the words to Ferrando's opening aria, for example).
In any event, I am really singing this very well, including the B flats. I thought the breakthrough in early 2015 was "it", but now I seem to have made another. I not only now can attack a B flat or a B natural off the cuff, I can do it full voice!! In my last two practices I sang two off the cuff B naturals that were truly O Don Fatale worthy! Is that in my future?
And when I started looking at Act 4 something interesting happened, which surprised me. Looking at all the opening recitative and imagining a woman sitting in a prison cell, knowing that she is going to be burned to death actually gave me the creeps. I mean I could actually feel what she was feeling. Now, OK, I know once I actually sing that music I can't do that (The Mentor once said "You are not supposed to feel anything; you are supposed to make the audience feel something") but it was interesting that I was that moved. I was not moved that way by the Act 2 music, probably because in that act she's having flashbacks not in terror about her own future. I was going to write that nothing like that had even happened to me when I was working on a role, but that of course is not true. If singing Dalila or Carmen always ended up making me horny, it makes sense that singing Azucena would take me to a very dark place, existentially. According to my teacher, she has PTSD from having spent her life in an intergenerational world of violence.
So now I'm all fired up!! (no pun intended) and am really looking forward to the next two months!!
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
The Heroine of My Own Blog
I have been needing to make a post for quite some time, but have been very busy with my health issues (an eye infection necessitating a trip to my ophthalmologist in Brooklyn), new glasses (see photo), my partner's health issues (taking her to the dermatologist), and work (booooring).
Of course I am still singing!
On Sunday the 23rd I sang both the "Laudamus te" from the Bach Mass in B Minor and "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria. Because there was no air conditioning in the church (they need a whole new unit, which is very expensive, so they have been taking bids) I was excused from singing at 9 and just sang at 11. The "Laudamus te" went really well. We even got applause!! "Domine Deus" went less well; we hadn't rehearsed it enough, and at one point the violinist seemed to be fumbling for the right note, so I ended up doing that also (which I am sure no one noticed) so I didn't get enough breath for the longest phrase at the end. I apologized afterwards to the pianist (who is also our new Director of Music Ministries) and he said there was no problem, because I had made it work.
So now there is nothing on my calendar - which means I need to fill it up!! Tomorrow I have an appointment with my partner's caseworker at the LGBT senior services center, which is where I also sent in a request to put on my pocket version of Carmen. When I am done with my appointment I will see if I can talk with the woman who coordinates the space usage, and see what the status of my bid is. I will need to set a date and line up other singers (and a pianist) before the year is out, so I want to get this moving.
I have gone back to working on the "Seguidilla" (never an ideal fit for my voice) and I am solidly able to nail that B (I have been vocalizing up to a C sharp every day), but staccati are just not my thing, so I have to sing the scale legato, then take a breath, and portamento from the F sharp up to the B. As I said, this is just not my style of singing. My teacher and I discussed the fact that a lot of it is low, but light, like a pop song, but I have to be careful at some point to get back on task with my low larynx position and strong support or I will not make it up to that B.
One disappointment is that the woman who used to produce the September 11 concerts and who helped me produce Carmen really isn't doing anything with classical singers any more. She posted something about a series of Christmas concerts, which I said I would be interested in, and she emailed me back and said that she really only wants pop or folk singers, as well as people who will help her organize the whole process of finding venues and booking the group into them. "Planning and organizing" (ah, yes, that was a category on the 100s of performance evaluations I administered when I was working, as well as on my own) is something too tied in with what I did for a living for me to ever want to do it on a volunteer basis, other than as the sole mechanism that enables me to sing anywhere, which I resent, but that's a waste of energy.
I suppose the last thing (and no doubt what prompted me to decide to write) is that I see that Little Miss's performance with The Opera Company That Said I Was Not A Future Investment has been reviewed by a well respected opera blogger. It was not reviewed in the TIMES (although another opera in that series was, probably because it was something new and different), but this blogger has a wide readership and he gave her the highest praise for her singing and acting.
As it is unlikely that I will ever even be noticed by anyone of that ilk, I have to content myself, as did David Copperfield, by being the "Heroine of My Own Story" here in this blog.
Of course I am still singing!
On Sunday the 23rd I sang both the "Laudamus te" from the Bach Mass in B Minor and "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria. Because there was no air conditioning in the church (they need a whole new unit, which is very expensive, so they have been taking bids) I was excused from singing at 9 and just sang at 11. The "Laudamus te" went really well. We even got applause!! "Domine Deus" went less well; we hadn't rehearsed it enough, and at one point the violinist seemed to be fumbling for the right note, so I ended up doing that also (which I am sure no one noticed) so I didn't get enough breath for the longest phrase at the end. I apologized afterwards to the pianist (who is also our new Director of Music Ministries) and he said there was no problem, because I had made it work.
So now there is nothing on my calendar - which means I need to fill it up!! Tomorrow I have an appointment with my partner's caseworker at the LGBT senior services center, which is where I also sent in a request to put on my pocket version of Carmen. When I am done with my appointment I will see if I can talk with the woman who coordinates the space usage, and see what the status of my bid is. I will need to set a date and line up other singers (and a pianist) before the year is out, so I want to get this moving.
I have gone back to working on the "Seguidilla" (never an ideal fit for my voice) and I am solidly able to nail that B (I have been vocalizing up to a C sharp every day), but staccati are just not my thing, so I have to sing the scale legato, then take a breath, and portamento from the F sharp up to the B. As I said, this is just not my style of singing. My teacher and I discussed the fact that a lot of it is low, but light, like a pop song, but I have to be careful at some point to get back on task with my low larynx position and strong support or I will not make it up to that B.
One disappointment is that the woman who used to produce the September 11 concerts and who helped me produce Carmen really isn't doing anything with classical singers any more. She posted something about a series of Christmas concerts, which I said I would be interested in, and she emailed me back and said that she really only wants pop or folk singers, as well as people who will help her organize the whole process of finding venues and booking the group into them. "Planning and organizing" (ah, yes, that was a category on the 100s of performance evaluations I administered when I was working, as well as on my own) is something too tied in with what I did for a living for me to ever want to do it on a volunteer basis, other than as the sole mechanism that enables me to sing anywhere, which I resent, but that's a waste of energy.
I suppose the last thing (and no doubt what prompted me to decide to write) is that I see that Little Miss's performance with The Opera Company That Said I Was Not A Future Investment has been reviewed by a well respected opera blogger. It was not reviewed in the TIMES (although another opera in that series was, probably because it was something new and different), but this blogger has a wide readership and he gave her the highest praise for her singing and acting.
As it is unlikely that I will ever even be noticed by anyone of that ilk, I have to content myself, as did David Copperfield, by being the "Heroine of My Own Story" here in this blog.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Don't Mourn, Organize!
I don't think I have used this phrase as a blog post title, although apparently I quoted it in another post. Good. One thing my therapist told me to do was try to make this blog more searchable through key words. And this is a saying that people will search, albeit for totally other purposes. But then, who knows?
Yesterday I had another "Little Miss"-related source of fury. Apparently she sang something this past Sunday (our choir wasn't there) and someone made a videotape (she has oodles of these whereas I have only one - from church at any rate, and not many more otherwise) and then I saw it because a woman from church (who is actually a personal friend of mine and did come to my Carmen and make a video from her phone, which she posted to my Facebook page although she didn't circulate it) posted it somewhere for public viewing with a gushing paean to Little Miss saying how lucky the church was to have such wonderful young talent.
When I was going over my New Year's resolutions with my therapist, she was confused by number 5
Talk about myself and write about myself broadly. I still believe there is someone out there who would find my whole "package" intriguing, even with all the imperfections and the lack of a traditional history (and the uncertainty of my "future"). Remember, there are guys who love girls with acne and scars (I hope this doesn't offend anyone).
and asked me what I was looking for here, friends? a "guy"? (The latter, no! I used that as a metaphor.)
What I am looking for is someone who is interested in me because I am 64 and singing so much better than I did when I was 54 (in fact, I feel that I have made more progress in the past year than I made in the preceding 9, probably because all those tiny muscles are finally doing what they are supposed to). To stop seeing myself as a less-desirable version of what people desire most: a singer in her 20s or at least her 30s (there are almost no singers in my fach in their 20s), but to see myself as valuable for what I actually am. That was what prompted the comment about acne and scars. I need to appeal to someone - a journalist, a physician, a DMus who is studying older singers - who wants to showcase me (or other people whose studies took a similar trajectory) just the way I am.
The other problem with being older is that younger people (I mean today, in 2015) have access to all sorts of technology, and, more importantly, their friends and family do too (and their family is still living). I am probably more tech savvy than most people my age, because of what I do for a living, but I don't have friends who come to hear me sing equipped with recording devices that they will automatically whip out. The one friend who tried to do this on September 11 had problems, and the woman I referred to earlier managed to make one short video of Carmen but that was it. My teacher always would make an audiotape of my performances but this was in the form of a CD of very poor quality and anyhow CDs have gone the way of the Edsel. Also, young people are more likely to have a gaggle of "fans" whether they be blood relatives, parents, or BFFs who have a quid pro quo setup with attending performances and applauding. My friends who are my age are either too busy or have too many health problems, or would rather go hear free chamber music at Juilliard.
So as for the title of this post, after noticing the video posting (I did not play it or comment on it) I messaged the man who started the Spanish service (who is lovely and always made nice comments about my singing) and asked if he would bring his video camera or phone with video capabilities on the 15th when I am singing "Et Exsultavit" in the Spanish service and he said "it would be his pleasure".
Speaking of "Et Exsultavit", I sang through it after not having sung it for several years and it is like the difference between night and day. I am singing it now with my big, dark, dramatic voice (although it is a melismatic piece, not a dramatic one) and my voice moves as easily as it ever did, and the long run (which many professional singers opt out of and break up) was easier than it ever was, singing full voice with a big pharyngeal space. And Giovanna Seymour continues to rock.
I just now need a claque. One that loves older women.
Yesterday I had another "Little Miss"-related source of fury. Apparently she sang something this past Sunday (our choir wasn't there) and someone made a videotape (she has oodles of these whereas I have only one - from church at any rate, and not many more otherwise) and then I saw it because a woman from church (who is actually a personal friend of mine and did come to my Carmen and make a video from her phone, which she posted to my Facebook page although she didn't circulate it) posted it somewhere for public viewing with a gushing paean to Little Miss saying how lucky the church was to have such wonderful young talent.
When I was going over my New Year's resolutions with my therapist, she was confused by number 5
Talk about myself and write about myself broadly. I still believe there is someone out there who would find my whole "package" intriguing, even with all the imperfections and the lack of a traditional history (and the uncertainty of my "future"). Remember, there are guys who love girls with acne and scars (I hope this doesn't offend anyone).
and asked me what I was looking for here, friends? a "guy"? (The latter, no! I used that as a metaphor.)
What I am looking for is someone who is interested in me because I am 64 and singing so much better than I did when I was 54 (in fact, I feel that I have made more progress in the past year than I made in the preceding 9, probably because all those tiny muscles are finally doing what they are supposed to). To stop seeing myself as a less-desirable version of what people desire most: a singer in her 20s or at least her 30s (there are almost no singers in my fach in their 20s), but to see myself as valuable for what I actually am. That was what prompted the comment about acne and scars. I need to appeal to someone - a journalist, a physician, a DMus who is studying older singers - who wants to showcase me (or other people whose studies took a similar trajectory) just the way I am.
The other problem with being older is that younger people (I mean today, in 2015) have access to all sorts of technology, and, more importantly, their friends and family do too (and their family is still living). I am probably more tech savvy than most people my age, because of what I do for a living, but I don't have friends who come to hear me sing equipped with recording devices that they will automatically whip out. The one friend who tried to do this on September 11 had problems, and the woman I referred to earlier managed to make one short video of Carmen but that was it. My teacher always would make an audiotape of my performances but this was in the form of a CD of very poor quality and anyhow CDs have gone the way of the Edsel. Also, young people are more likely to have a gaggle of "fans" whether they be blood relatives, parents, or BFFs who have a quid pro quo setup with attending performances and applauding. My friends who are my age are either too busy or have too many health problems, or would rather go hear free chamber music at Juilliard.
So as for the title of this post, after noticing the video posting (I did not play it or comment on it) I messaged the man who started the Spanish service (who is lovely and always made nice comments about my singing) and asked if he would bring his video camera or phone with video capabilities on the 15th when I am singing "Et Exsultavit" in the Spanish service and he said "it would be his pleasure".
Speaking of "Et Exsultavit", I sang through it after not having sung it for several years and it is like the difference between night and day. I am singing it now with my big, dark, dramatic voice (although it is a melismatic piece, not a dramatic one) and my voice moves as easily as it ever did, and the long run (which many professional singers opt out of and break up) was easier than it ever was, singing full voice with a big pharyngeal space. And Giovanna Seymour continues to rock.
I just now need a claque. One that loves older women.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
A Stunning Blog Post, about a Lot More than Sex!
I "liked" a page on Facebook called The Gypsy Priestess . Today, they posted this, which just blew me away. It is about a lot more than just sex, and pretty much catalogs everything I want, need, and yearn for in my life as an antidote to all those hours I spend in an airless apartment moving punctuation around and fixing type fonts. It is really a credo to live by.
In other news, yesterday at my lesson my teacher and I tried to brainstorm about what to do next. Maybe take Carmen into a nursing home? Those venues are always free. Or maybe do something with Gioconda. My Don Jose is singing Enzo now, and we would sound great together. I probably wouldn't do anything until the Spring - once a year for a self-produced concert is about all I can manage (I would do more if I didn't have choir and these little ad hoc concerts like the one on September 11.)
My teacher also said that he thought the Carmen was the best thing I had done and that I had made a big breakthrough. The problem is I cannot immerse myself in this totally.
I am very happy with it overall; on the other hand the fact that it was so poorly attended and that it didn't even warrant being what my mother used to call "a conversation piece" in my broader social circle (who can go to free concerts at Juilliard, etc. whenever they feel like and therefore don't consider something like this "real" music) is very disheartening.
In other news, yesterday at my lesson my teacher and I tried to brainstorm about what to do next. Maybe take Carmen into a nursing home? Those venues are always free. Or maybe do something with Gioconda. My Don Jose is singing Enzo now, and we would sound great together. I probably wouldn't do anything until the Spring - once a year for a self-produced concert is about all I can manage (I would do more if I didn't have choir and these little ad hoc concerts like the one on September 11.)
My teacher also said that he thought the Carmen was the best thing I had done and that I had made a big breakthrough. The problem is I cannot immerse myself in this totally.
I am very happy with it overall; on the other hand the fact that it was so poorly attended and that it didn't even warrant being what my mother used to call "a conversation piece" in my broader social circle (who can go to free concerts at Juilliard, etc. whenever they feel like and therefore don't consider something like this "real" music) is very disheartening.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
I Will Not Die Anonymous
Two things came to mind recently. First, that as someone 62, whose mother lived to be almost 94, I am now in the last third of my life. I don't want to waste it. I don't want to coast. I want to make my mark.
And this has been compounded by the fact that one of the publications that I edit for a living is about end-of-life issues. What spooks me when I'm working on this publication isn't reading about all the physical suffering that terminal patients endure, but about the existential suffering, or at the very least, the existential thought processes, that they undergo.
So this subject is front and center all the time.
So I have shifted the focus slightly. I still love to sing, and I will continue to learn oratorio and opera arias and scenes until this is no longer physically possible, but the focus has shifted from trying to be noticed for my singing, to trying to be noticed for my story. Surely some journalist, professor, psychologist, or voice teacher with a public platform might be interested in the phenomenon of someone my age who is obsessed with perfecting her craft as a solo classical singer. Or some young Lesbian who wants to know the how and why of my abandoning my dream of singing long ago, when I found it incompatible with being a Lesbian-Feminist pioneer (although if I was ever a real feminist then pigs can fly - I simply wanted the approval of my lover and our friends).
So rather than fruitlessly going to auditions (I still keep my ear to the ground, but will not go back and audition for any of the groups I auditioned for before, except two that gave me a decent reception) I am going to post comments to various blogs and link them back to this one. I try to keep the comments concise and not whiney, but I also try to keep them honest.
So last week I posted a comment on the blog of a woman who wrote a New York Times opinion piece about being bisexual (I mentioned deciding I was bisexual after falling in love with the Mentor, mostly because I wanted someone in my life who was stronger and younger). Neither she nor anyone else commented on it, but I got one hit to this blog from hers. Then a few days ago I posted a question to a blog post on a major music site. (I don't want to link it back here, because I used a pseudonym that I have used for a variety of things, some of which I am not 100% proud of, but that pseudonym is so "me" that I will never change it.) In any event, the woman who writes the blog posted, although she did not answer, my comment, and I got at least one hit back here from her site. Another point of interest is that a neighbor of mine who is a music critic also has a blog on that site. He is quite pleasant but has never ever referred to my singing or even acknowledged that this is a big part of my life, despite it being such a big part of his. You have no idea how much that smarts. And his wife, a former voice and piano major at one of the big conservatories who is in a totally different career now, has the snootiness that all conservatory graduates have, however well they sang or didn't (I have never really heard her sing).
I have vowed to be less timid. There probably isn't much I can do about performance nerves (aka "sustained singing above a G nerves") but I can stop feeling "not entitled". I feel "not entitled" to love the spotlight. I think it's unseemly, I think I'm not entitled to admit to myself that my main reason for singing with this choir is to get solo opportunities and that when I sing church solos I am every bit as much the diva as when I sing opera solos, I just am playing a different character so I wear a different costume and use different facial expressions and gestures. To stop worrying that if I post a comment to someone's blog about who I am and where I'm at with singing (or anything else) people will laugh at me. So what?
In other news, I went over some of the Werther with my teacher. He said he thinks I sing the "Letter Scene" better than anything else he has ever heard, mainly because it is in a comfortable range: from middle C to G at the top of the staff. Of course I got tired in the middle of the big monologue with the high As and now they have become another fence to balk at, but he said I should work on it, and as it's early days yet, I can decide whether I want to sing it or whether I want to end the scene with "Va" and do something else. He thinks I should order the score of Hamlet.
Regarding church, the choir is singing something from Mendelssohn's Elijah, so I asked the choir director if I could sing "O Rest in the Lord" that day at communion and he said yes. That would be for the 9 am service and he said I might be able to sing it at communion at 11 also. Apparently there are not a lot of empty anthem spots because the church has replaced the defunct Praise Choir with a children's choir and a youth choir.
And the violinist and I will coordinate a date to do something together. There aren't that many Sundays left to the choir season so maybe we can do "Laudamus te" in the summer. Even just having one or two choir solos on my calender makes me feel a little more optimistic.
And this has been compounded by the fact that one of the publications that I edit for a living is about end-of-life issues. What spooks me when I'm working on this publication isn't reading about all the physical suffering that terminal patients endure, but about the existential suffering, or at the very least, the existential thought processes, that they undergo.
So this subject is front and center all the time.
So I have shifted the focus slightly. I still love to sing, and I will continue to learn oratorio and opera arias and scenes until this is no longer physically possible, but the focus has shifted from trying to be noticed for my singing, to trying to be noticed for my story. Surely some journalist, professor, psychologist, or voice teacher with a public platform might be interested in the phenomenon of someone my age who is obsessed with perfecting her craft as a solo classical singer. Or some young Lesbian who wants to know the how and why of my abandoning my dream of singing long ago, when I found it incompatible with being a Lesbian-Feminist pioneer (although if I was ever a real feminist then pigs can fly - I simply wanted the approval of my lover and our friends).
So rather than fruitlessly going to auditions (I still keep my ear to the ground, but will not go back and audition for any of the groups I auditioned for before, except two that gave me a decent reception) I am going to post comments to various blogs and link them back to this one. I try to keep the comments concise and not whiney, but I also try to keep them honest.
So last week I posted a comment on the blog of a woman who wrote a New York Times opinion piece about being bisexual (I mentioned deciding I was bisexual after falling in love with the Mentor, mostly because I wanted someone in my life who was stronger and younger). Neither she nor anyone else commented on it, but I got one hit to this blog from hers. Then a few days ago I posted a question to a blog post on a major music site. (I don't want to link it back here, because I used a pseudonym that I have used for a variety of things, some of which I am not 100% proud of, but that pseudonym is so "me" that I will never change it.) In any event, the woman who writes the blog posted, although she did not answer, my comment, and I got at least one hit back here from her site. Another point of interest is that a neighbor of mine who is a music critic also has a blog on that site. He is quite pleasant but has never ever referred to my singing or even acknowledged that this is a big part of my life, despite it being such a big part of his. You have no idea how much that smarts. And his wife, a former voice and piano major at one of the big conservatories who is in a totally different career now, has the snootiness that all conservatory graduates have, however well they sang or didn't (I have never really heard her sing).
I have vowed to be less timid. There probably isn't much I can do about performance nerves (aka "sustained singing above a G nerves") but I can stop feeling "not entitled". I feel "not entitled" to love the spotlight. I think it's unseemly, I think I'm not entitled to admit to myself that my main reason for singing with this choir is to get solo opportunities and that when I sing church solos I am every bit as much the diva as when I sing opera solos, I just am playing a different character so I wear a different costume and use different facial expressions and gestures. To stop worrying that if I post a comment to someone's blog about who I am and where I'm at with singing (or anything else) people will laugh at me. So what?
In other news, I went over some of the Werther with my teacher. He said he thinks I sing the "Letter Scene" better than anything else he has ever heard, mainly because it is in a comfortable range: from middle C to G at the top of the staff. Of course I got tired in the middle of the big monologue with the high As and now they have become another fence to balk at, but he said I should work on it, and as it's early days yet, I can decide whether I want to sing it or whether I want to end the scene with "Va" and do something else. He thinks I should order the score of Hamlet.
Regarding church, the choir is singing something from Mendelssohn's Elijah, so I asked the choir director if I could sing "O Rest in the Lord" that day at communion and he said yes. That would be for the 9 am service and he said I might be able to sing it at communion at 11 also. Apparently there are not a lot of empty anthem spots because the church has replaced the defunct Praise Choir with a children's choir and a youth choir.
And the violinist and I will coordinate a date to do something together. There aren't that many Sundays left to the choir season so maybe we can do "Laudamus te" in the summer. Even just having one or two choir solos on my calender makes me feel a little more optimistic.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Thankful Thursday - and Musings on "Location, location, location"
First "thankful Thursday".
The church where I sing posts a "thankful Thursday" prompt, and people can respond to it. I am a bit shy of doing that, but I need to remind myself of a few things.
First, I'm alive. I was reading a post on Facebook from a young woman whose mother died of breast cancer when she (the mother) was 10 years younger than I am now. I am certainly now of an age when people die and although it might be considered tragic, it is not considered unusual.
Second, however depressed I often feel because of my lack of varied stimuli (I think this is at the crux of it - the fewer hours I spend alone in the house the less depressed I am), I have long since stopped feeling depressed by the holidays. For years I got flak about why did my mother celebrate, and raise me to celebrate, Christmas, if she was Jewish? She never really had a satisfactory answer, which made me feel put on the spot when I had to answer for her (and me). Now that I consider myself a Unitarian (which for me is a mix of Christianity, Judaism, and Paganism - actually they would include Buddhism, but that particular tradition doesn't speak to me) I can celebrate any holiday I feel like, and anyhow, I'm a "high art" snob, so if I can sing church music I can decorate for Christmas. I don't particularly feel sorry for myself that I have no family and will not get or give any presents. Music and decorating are enough for me. If I desperately need a sweater or more opera CDs I can buy these for myself. So I am enjoying the holiday season quite a bit, actually.
Third, I have conquered four "tech" problems basically on my own, with only the help of company personnel, in other words, sans a "foreign language interpreter"! I took care of getting a new hard drive for my laptop, downloaded a printer driver from the Epson web site, reconnected my external hard drive, and got an iphone to replace my rinky dink cell phone. The iphone did not come with an instruction manual but I figured out how to do everything except take decent pictures of myself. Yes, it has a reverse camera, but I hardly look "hawt" if I am trying to take a photograph. I have one set of facial expressions and body language when I'm posing/vamping and a totally different one when I'm concentrating on looking into a camera viewfinder.
For the second subject of this post...
I was asking myself whether watching the Richard Tucker gala on tv tonight would be inspirational or depressing.
I think what I find the most depressing is that I am literally in the armpit of Lincoln Center where the greatest singers in the world congregate to perform, and their successors go to school. What role is there for a 62 year old with a pleasant large-ish voice in a limited range who can sing a handful of excerpts from great operas (cherry picked so that she doesn't get too tired), and some church solos? How am I relevant? Who cares?
Someone had said a while back that I should start a "community opera group", but there are probably 10-15 of these in Manhattan (and the other boroughs, but I would not want to travel outside Manhattan at night if I was not getting paid) and I have been rejected by all of them, except one that wanted to charge me $450 to sing a role. (I wasn't insulted, I just don't have that kind of money, and if I am going to spend money, I would rather produce my own thing as a tax deductible charity event.)
It would be too self-piteous to blame it all on ageism, but what I do think is that no one is interested in someone obviously over 45 (I don't think I look 62....I'm 62 like Bette Midler or Bernadette Peters, not like an image of someone's grandma) who has minimal experience, no music-oriented formal education, and sounds, even at best, like she still needs a little polish. (I think if I sounded exactly like I do now and was 27, people would be very interested, although they might instruct me how and where to get more polishing, and I think if I looked and sounded like I do now but had sung 20 roles over 20 years, people would also be interested, but the mix of my skills, age, and background are a nonstarter.)
So OK. I can always produce something myself, and as someone said "if you build it, they will come".
What I really keep hoping is that someone will be interested in my story if not in my singing.
Before the day is over I promise to write to someone I know who writes for Classical Singer and ask her how to pique someone's interest.
The church where I sing posts a "thankful Thursday" prompt, and people can respond to it. I am a bit shy of doing that, but I need to remind myself of a few things.
First, I'm alive. I was reading a post on Facebook from a young woman whose mother died of breast cancer when she (the mother) was 10 years younger than I am now. I am certainly now of an age when people die and although it might be considered tragic, it is not considered unusual.
Second, however depressed I often feel because of my lack of varied stimuli (I think this is at the crux of it - the fewer hours I spend alone in the house the less depressed I am), I have long since stopped feeling depressed by the holidays. For years I got flak about why did my mother celebrate, and raise me to celebrate, Christmas, if she was Jewish? She never really had a satisfactory answer, which made me feel put on the spot when I had to answer for her (and me). Now that I consider myself a Unitarian (which for me is a mix of Christianity, Judaism, and Paganism - actually they would include Buddhism, but that particular tradition doesn't speak to me) I can celebrate any holiday I feel like, and anyhow, I'm a "high art" snob, so if I can sing church music I can decorate for Christmas. I don't particularly feel sorry for myself that I have no family and will not get or give any presents. Music and decorating are enough for me. If I desperately need a sweater or more opera CDs I can buy these for myself. So I am enjoying the holiday season quite a bit, actually.
Third, I have conquered four "tech" problems basically on my own, with only the help of company personnel, in other words, sans a "foreign language interpreter"! I took care of getting a new hard drive for my laptop, downloaded a printer driver from the Epson web site, reconnected my external hard drive, and got an iphone to replace my rinky dink cell phone. The iphone did not come with an instruction manual but I figured out how to do everything except take decent pictures of myself. Yes, it has a reverse camera, but I hardly look "hawt" if I am trying to take a photograph. I have one set of facial expressions and body language when I'm posing/vamping and a totally different one when I'm concentrating on looking into a camera viewfinder.
For the second subject of this post...
I was asking myself whether watching the Richard Tucker gala on tv tonight would be inspirational or depressing.
I think what I find the most depressing is that I am literally in the armpit of Lincoln Center where the greatest singers in the world congregate to perform, and their successors go to school. What role is there for a 62 year old with a pleasant large-ish voice in a limited range who can sing a handful of excerpts from great operas (cherry picked so that she doesn't get too tired), and some church solos? How am I relevant? Who cares?
Someone had said a while back that I should start a "community opera group", but there are probably 10-15 of these in Manhattan (and the other boroughs, but I would not want to travel outside Manhattan at night if I was not getting paid) and I have been rejected by all of them, except one that wanted to charge me $450 to sing a role. (I wasn't insulted, I just don't have that kind of money, and if I am going to spend money, I would rather produce my own thing as a tax deductible charity event.)
It would be too self-piteous to blame it all on ageism, but what I do think is that no one is interested in someone obviously over 45 (I don't think I look 62....I'm 62 like Bette Midler or Bernadette Peters, not like an image of someone's grandma) who has minimal experience, no music-oriented formal education, and sounds, even at best, like she still needs a little polish. (I think if I sounded exactly like I do now and was 27, people would be very interested, although they might instruct me how and where to get more polishing, and I think if I looked and sounded like I do now but had sung 20 roles over 20 years, people would also be interested, but the mix of my skills, age, and background are a nonstarter.)
So OK. I can always produce something myself, and as someone said "if you build it, they will come".
What I really keep hoping is that someone will be interested in my story if not in my singing.
Before the day is over I promise to write to someone I know who writes for Classical Singer and ask her how to pique someone's interest.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Random Thoughts
I haven't written anything for a while, and I also haven't gotten many hits on my blog lately. I even posted something to the the Forum a few days ago, which is a place I had promised myself to avoid, just to see if my blog link would attract people.
I was also thinking about the movie Julie and Julia, because someone mentioned it, and I remembered that it was that movie that got me blogging in the first place. "Julie" wasn't the world's greatest cook or the world's greatest writer, but her writing about her passion for cooking bought her a ticket to fame.
Yesterday I listened to a playwright talking about a play he had written in which one of the themes was The Road Not Taken which by now is a cliche, even to having been misquoted by the author of the book The Road Less Traveled - as my mother would have said, he missed the "prepositional verb". Robert Frost refers to the "road less traveled by."
So is that all these past 8 years have been? Scrambling to try to get back to the "Road Not Taken" and feeling angry and bitter?
Or is it about something else?
The Mentor (whom I haven't mentioned in quite a while) took a sensually quiescent middle aged woman and taught her to sing "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" for a moment of music, magic, and a frisson of eroticism. Was this just meant to be a one-off? Then back to business as usual?
Whenever I falter in my journey, I remember that Valentine's Day and have faith that this was not just for nothing. Whatever God I believe in - a Christian one (monogamy is the sticking point there), or a pagan one (a little more attuned to my Dalila soul) - s/he meant that Valentine's Day to mean something.
I am at Week 11 of The Artist's Way. The world looks brighter and I have more hope. The things this process have taught me are not that different from the things I picked up from the Mentor, not just about singing and sexuality, but about colors, textures, and smells. About surrounding myself with beauty. Or what I consider beauty anyhow. I laughed at one point when I was reading the book. It mentioned feeling free to add that finishing touch to an outfit, something that is special to you, even if conventional people think you are "ruining" it. That made me realize that the "trashy" way I love to dress is my form of self-expression. It is how I signal to myself and the world that I am always a diva, no matter what I am doing.
I believe that some people are hardwired to be divas. (Many disagree and say that the only people who can use that term about themselves are those who have perfected an art form and are acknowledged to excel in it.) If you are hardwired to be a diva and you have a talent, nurture it, make the right connections, and find a venue, you are lucky. Many don't. I see these all around me: the bank teller with braids that probably cost an entire week's paycheck, flaunting her elaborate "nail art"; the harried pediatrician who buys a different flamboyant gown to wear to each wedding and Bar Mitzvah she is invited to when she really only needed two.
So maybe a venue will present itself. Meanwhile the Requiem preparations continue.
This morning I sang a piece by a little-known composer, Joseph Raff, called "Great and Wonderful are All Thy Works". I think I sang well, and the choir director was happy. I also found a new violinist to perform Bach with. Very few people said anything to me, even ones who spoke to me (about other things) after the service, so part of me felt the whole thing sort of fell into a black hole, but I guess God heard me, and that's all that should matter, although divas always love applause.
ETA: I realize that in saying I felt my singing "fell into a black hole" I was being insulting to those people who did thank me (I got several thank yous on Facebook after I wrote this, one from a fellow choir member who means a lot to me). I think the thing I was most peeved about was that I was sitting with a woman who likes me, and who had (out of kindness) chided me for writing on Facebook about being envious. You would think that she would have said something about my singing, as she was at both services, but she never even mentioned it. The good news: This oratorio is little known (hasn't been performed in this country in my lifetime in any event) so it might be a good vehicle to try to attract big players to. (By "big players" I mean getting some of the serious musicians at the church to look for a venue for it, which is a whole 'nuther thing from putting on a vanity production.)
Yesterday I listened to a playwright talking about a play he had written in which one of the themes was The Road Not Taken which by now is a cliche, even to having been misquoted by the author of the book The Road Less Traveled - as my mother would have said, he missed the "prepositional verb". Robert Frost refers to the "road less traveled by."
So is that all these past 8 years have been? Scrambling to try to get back to the "Road Not Taken" and feeling angry and bitter?
Or is it about something else?
The Mentor (whom I haven't mentioned in quite a while) took a sensually quiescent middle aged woman and taught her to sing "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" for a moment of music, magic, and a frisson of eroticism. Was this just meant to be a one-off? Then back to business as usual?
Whenever I falter in my journey, I remember that Valentine's Day and have faith that this was not just for nothing. Whatever God I believe in - a Christian one (monogamy is the sticking point there), or a pagan one (a little more attuned to my Dalila soul) - s/he meant that Valentine's Day to mean something.
I am at Week 11 of The Artist's Way. The world looks brighter and I have more hope. The things this process have taught me are not that different from the things I picked up from the Mentor, not just about singing and sexuality, but about colors, textures, and smells. About surrounding myself with beauty. Or what I consider beauty anyhow. I laughed at one point when I was reading the book. It mentioned feeling free to add that finishing touch to an outfit, something that is special to you, even if conventional people think you are "ruining" it. That made me realize that the "trashy" way I love to dress is my form of self-expression. It is how I signal to myself and the world that I am always a diva, no matter what I am doing.
I believe that some people are hardwired to be divas. (Many disagree and say that the only people who can use that term about themselves are those who have perfected an art form and are acknowledged to excel in it.) If you are hardwired to be a diva and you have a talent, nurture it, make the right connections, and find a venue, you are lucky. Many don't. I see these all around me: the bank teller with braids that probably cost an entire week's paycheck, flaunting her elaborate "nail art"; the harried pediatrician who buys a different flamboyant gown to wear to each wedding and Bar Mitzvah she is invited to when she really only needed two.
So maybe a venue will present itself. Meanwhile the Requiem preparations continue.
This morning I sang a piece by a little-known composer, Joseph Raff, called "Great and Wonderful are All Thy Works". I think I sang well, and the choir director was happy. I also found a new violinist to perform Bach with. Very few people said anything to me, even ones who spoke to me (about other things) after the service, so part of me felt the whole thing sort of fell into a black hole, but I guess God heard me, and that's all that should matter, although divas always love applause.
ETA: I realize that in saying I felt my singing "fell into a black hole" I was being insulting to those people who did thank me (I got several thank yous on Facebook after I wrote this, one from a fellow choir member who means a lot to me). I think the thing I was most peeved about was that I was sitting with a woman who likes me, and who had (out of kindness) chided me for writing on Facebook about being envious. You would think that she would have said something about my singing, as she was at both services, but she never even mentioned it. The good news: This oratorio is little known (hasn't been performed in this country in my lifetime in any event) so it might be a good vehicle to try to attract big players to. (By "big players" I mean getting some of the serious musicians at the church to look for a venue for it, which is a whole 'nuther thing from putting on a vanity production.)
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Obligatory New Year's Post
As someone in a 12-step program, I am not a big fan of New Year's resolutions. When I need to make changes, I will know, as I indicated in this post.
My partner said to me that this had been, for me, a "good year". Do I agree? I don't know.
This is the first year that I spent the entire year as a freelancer, living almost entirely off my earnings. The "almost" means I took about $10k out of money that had been in my (deceased) mother's bank accounts, but that is, perhaps, money that I would have been able to earn this year or last year if I hadn't been taking care of her when she was dying and wrapping up her meager estate.
On the other hand, I felt a certain amount of despair that here I was, once again, trapped at a desk by myself for hours at a time doing something safe, dull, and predictable.
My singing has continued to improve (certainly my best singing is better than it ever has been), but I have had more and more bitter realizations that no matter how well I sing, I am basically "nowhere" on the classical singing food chain, certainly not living where I am living, which is what prompted my remark about small towns and my (sometimes) wish that I lived in one that was misunderstood and ended an online friendship.
I decided to delete my pseudonymous blog, and to stop reading most of the online journals of other singers, which only made me feel angry and envious, caused a virtual brouhaha, and led me to realize how terribly bored I am a great deal of the time (only when I am trapped here doing my work-for-pay - I am never bored when I can choose how I can spend my time) and what a temptation it then became for me to enviously read about how real singers live, hate myself and my life, and put poison pen to paper (metaphorically speaking).
One reason I didn't make any resolutions, other than the one mentioned earlier about, where singing is concerned, to set my own goals and mind my own business, is that I already practice and already spend a certain chunk of the day learning music. What I seem to need is an identity vis a vis the world of singing, even simply an identity that I can have between me and myself.
The biggest shock I experienced when I went back to singing in 2004 wasn't that I wasn't going to have a "career" - I had already figured that out - but that there was so much talent here that I couldn't even carve out a niche for myself as a good amateur in a milieu in which I was respected by other people. I mean if I want to put on a concert I can always find people to sing with but I had hoped to find a few people (and I mean this in the practical sense, not in a egotistical one) who sang almost as well as I did but not quite, who were eager to perform, and who would invite me to do things and at least share the cost and the planning, but this has not happened.
I have even tried to wrack my brains looking for something else I could do to entertain myself and satisfy my need for glamour and flash, something not as highly competitive as singing, but I don't come up with anything.
So. If I did make any New Year's resolutions, here they are:
1. To practice every day.
2. To always have a musical work (opera, oratorio, etc.) that I am learning, aside from choir music.
3. To always have one choir solo to look forward to (we usually choose these for ourselves, subject to scheduling and, occasionally, veto by the choir director)
4. To always have one other thing in the works. If it's not outer directed (an audition to go to), then it can be inner-directed (something I will plan and organize myself).
5. To remind myself every day that I am an exciting, glamorous, vivacious, performing artist even if that is not what I do for a living and even if I never travel, if what I do for a living never takes me beyond my tiny desk or leads to my meeting anyone, and even if no one cares what I'm wearing 99% of the time except me.
6. Any time I see a friend with a camera, if I'm wearing something nice, ask them please to take a picture and email it to me (this doesn't cost a cent these days).
7. To be grateful that I have a place to be safe and something to do that's secure while at the same time working at doing things that don't feel safe and secure, because safe and secure is boring and boredom is dangerous.
I guess that's it.
I may have an audition to go to on Saturday - or not. I sent a resume and head shot to someone via FedEx (this was an audition I had heard about through non-traditional channels) and will call them tomorrow to see if I got a spot. Surprisingly, when I mentioned this to my partner, she did not get into an uproar about it, so this is progress. I don't want to write details about this audition until either it's over, or I know that it's not on. I just want to keep this to myself. I have been preparing two roles, and would be happy with either (one I'm sure is out of the question, but I can always hope).
My partner said to me that this had been, for me, a "good year". Do I agree? I don't know.
This is the first year that I spent the entire year as a freelancer, living almost entirely off my earnings. The "almost" means I took about $10k out of money that had been in my (deceased) mother's bank accounts, but that is, perhaps, money that I would have been able to earn this year or last year if I hadn't been taking care of her when she was dying and wrapping up her meager estate.
On the other hand, I felt a certain amount of despair that here I was, once again, trapped at a desk by myself for hours at a time doing something safe, dull, and predictable.
My singing has continued to improve (certainly my best singing is better than it ever has been), but I have had more and more bitter realizations that no matter how well I sing, I am basically "nowhere" on the classical singing food chain, certainly not living where I am living, which is what prompted my remark about small towns and my (sometimes) wish that I lived in one that was misunderstood and ended an online friendship.
I decided to delete my pseudonymous blog, and to stop reading most of the online journals of other singers, which only made me feel angry and envious, caused a virtual brouhaha, and led me to realize how terribly bored I am a great deal of the time (only when I am trapped here doing my work-for-pay - I am never bored when I can choose how I can spend my time) and what a temptation it then became for me to enviously read about how real singers live, hate myself and my life, and put poison pen to paper (metaphorically speaking).
One reason I didn't make any resolutions, other than the one mentioned earlier about, where singing is concerned, to set my own goals and mind my own business, is that I already practice and already spend a certain chunk of the day learning music. What I seem to need is an identity vis a vis the world of singing, even simply an identity that I can have between me and myself.
The biggest shock I experienced when I went back to singing in 2004 wasn't that I wasn't going to have a "career" - I had already figured that out - but that there was so much talent here that I couldn't even carve out a niche for myself as a good amateur in a milieu in which I was respected by other people. I mean if I want to put on a concert I can always find people to sing with but I had hoped to find a few people (and I mean this in the practical sense, not in a egotistical one) who sang almost as well as I did but not quite, who were eager to perform, and who would invite me to do things and at least share the cost and the planning, but this has not happened.
I have even tried to wrack my brains looking for something else I could do to entertain myself and satisfy my need for glamour and flash, something not as highly competitive as singing, but I don't come up with anything.
So. If I did make any New Year's resolutions, here they are:
1. To practice every day.
2. To always have a musical work (opera, oratorio, etc.) that I am learning, aside from choir music.
3. To always have one choir solo to look forward to (we usually choose these for ourselves, subject to scheduling and, occasionally, veto by the choir director)
4. To always have one other thing in the works. If it's not outer directed (an audition to go to), then it can be inner-directed (something I will plan and organize myself).
5. To remind myself every day that I am an exciting, glamorous, vivacious, performing artist even if that is not what I do for a living and even if I never travel, if what I do for a living never takes me beyond my tiny desk or leads to my meeting anyone, and even if no one cares what I'm wearing 99% of the time except me.
6. Any time I see a friend with a camera, if I'm wearing something nice, ask them please to take a picture and email it to me (this doesn't cost a cent these days).
7. To be grateful that I have a place to be safe and something to do that's secure while at the same time working at doing things that don't feel safe and secure, because safe and secure is boring and boredom is dangerous.
I guess that's it.
I may have an audition to go to on Saturday - or not. I sent a resume and head shot to someone via FedEx (this was an audition I had heard about through non-traditional channels) and will call them tomorrow to see if I got a spot. Surprisingly, when I mentioned this to my partner, she did not get into an uproar about it, so this is progress. I don't want to write details about this audition until either it's over, or I know that it's not on. I just want to keep this to myself. I have been preparing two roles, and would be happy with either (one I'm sure is out of the question, but I can always hope).
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