I am taking a break from work, which I had intended to use marking up the score of Werther, but which I also now would like to use to write a blog post on this article , which really moved me.
So much of what the author says is true. Why is is it, as he says, that "We seem to have evolved into a society of mourned and misplaced creativity"?
Children are encouraged to be creative. Certainly I was. But I soon learned that having and fostering an imagination was "childish" (and this by about age 11). I went to school with two types of girls: those who talked about boys and clothes all the time and those who did nothing but study. There were a handful of kids I grew up with who really excelled at playing a musical instrument, or at art or writing, for example, but "really excel" meant just that. If you were not Juilliard or Pratt material, it was like, "enough already". Be a doctor or a lawyer or an accountant. (I don't think anyone was encouraged to go into banking - the author of the cited article mentions working in "the City", London's equivalent of Wall Street. That, at least, was too crass.)
And women were not encouraged, really, to do anything at all. Yes, we were supposed to be educated, because educated women are interesting. But jobs were something you did until you married, or after you got divorced, or, like my mother, widowed. It's sort of hard to imagine, as I was encouraged to be brainy, not decorative, but I never thought about having a "career", and just ended up doing what most of the "bookish" women I knew did: get a secretarial job in publishing and then become an editor.
And if you were female, even a Lesbian like me, the most important thing was "the relationship". Don't pursue activities that will take time away from "the relationship". That, and the fact that I was told that Lesbians shouldn't be involved in a "patriarchal art form" like opera, put a premature end to my hope of a singing life, if not a singing career.
So what do you do if you've found what you love but are too old to do it in any way that other people care about? Not because you don't have talent and ability, but because too many people in too close proximity to where you live, have more talent and ability. My problem with singing isn't that different from the general problem with the middle class. It isn't really that people have gotten poorer, but rather that the rich have gotten so much richer and so much more numerous that everyone else is poor or might as well be.
Being older, the issue isn't just ageism or lost time, it's that what I'm competing with now are at least three generations (is a generation a decade, I wonder?) of people, most specifically women, who have been encouraged to pursue dreams of some kind. And are doing interesting things. When I was only looking at my own generation, very few women had high powered careers that they enjoyed and the ones who did were considered odd (many never married or found a satisfactory life with a significant other), and there were only a tiny handful of highly trained professional singers, so as I've said 100 times if I've said it once, the community opera groups, such as there were, were for amateurs with day jobs whose singing was less than perfect but who loved doing it. Now almost every school in the country seems to offer a degree in vocal performance and they vomit out their graduates in the five boroughs of the Big Apple (not to mention the three conservatories that are right here).
I think however sad it is that there is so much lost creativity, there is less than there used to be. An awful lot of people, particularly women, are doing interesting creative things, if not successfully in a monetary sense, successfully enough that their picture is in the newspaper or they get a spot talking on tv.
So I've found something I love and it's killing me, to paraphrase the author of this article. But it hasn't killed me yet, and I am going to go down fighting.
Showing posts with label discouragement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label discouragement. Show all posts
Monday, April 29, 2013
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Gratitude or Giving Up?
A while back I posted something on Facebook (was it as long ago as last Thanksgiving?) where I said I found it hard to tell the difference between gratitude and laziness.
People think I am not grateful because I so often feel frustrated at how anonymous and irrelevant I feel...no matter how well I sing (or do anything for that matter) I am surrounded in this city and particularly in this neighborhood by a suffocating mass of people who can do it better.
It is easy to say, OK, I have it pretty good. I have someone who loves me, however flawed our relationship is, something to do for a modest living that I can do on my own schedule, a cheap apartment in a pricey ZIP code, not to mention that I am old enough now to know that no matter who is President, I, personally, will not fall through the cracks. I spent 35 years bored out of my wits for most of the day and what I have to show for it is two 401ks and health insurance for life. And now I earn little enough that I could probably qualify for lower middle income subsidized senior housing if I lost this apartment.
But I have this huge hunger in me to be somebody and in this environment I am nobody even if I leave the house every day flawlessly made up, looking like I am going for a photo shoot or at the very least a curtain call....no mean feat at 62 when nobody cares how I look but me and my significant other. It ain't in my job description.
Lately I have just felt like giving up. One thing I learned (surprisingly) during the hurricane was how lovely it was to lie in bed in the dark (I could have done with a little heat) listening to the radio with my significant other with few pressures other than having to run home for a few hours a day to work at my laptop (I had power in the apartment, she didn't). The competition was on hold
I want to run away to Ogunquit Maine. Almost every summer we spent a week here. And this picture doesn't even do it justice. This room looks out on a Japanese garden that was written up in a magazine (I can't remember which one, now).
Just think if I lived in Ogunquit. Well, I would have to walk everywhere except in July and August when the trolley is running, which would mean walking the equivalent of ten blocks, possibly in the snow, to buy overpriced groceries at a small convenience store. Or maybe there might be someplace I could order groceries online? There would only be one church within walking distance, and chances are I would get to be the star soloist full stop. I would get bored pretty quickly...there are a few art galleries and a summer theater from which I would have to walk home the equivalent of 15 blocks with a flashlight, because it's not on the trolley route, and two movie theaters. Maybe once a month or so I could take the bus to Portland but I would probably only get to spend 4 hours there because the last bus gets back fairly early, I think. I would be bored, but I wouldn't feel like I was drowning at the bottom of a pool of talent, so far down at the bottom of the pool that no one can even see my nose.
If I hadn't been born in New York it would be easy. I could go "home", presumably somewhere where I would be a bigger fish than I am here, and I would feel less overwhelmed. But I have noplace to go home to.
I could choose to live a simple life here: just close my eyes to the mass of talented people, never go to another audition, stop reading Classical Singer, unfriend all the working singers on Facebook who don't know me and certainly don't care about me even if we met once or twice at a "meetup", and be an unpaid choir soloist and go caroling in nursing homes and sing a few art songs. But is that giving up? Is that admitting that I am a failure? Or is it being grateful?
Next week I have the first rehearsal for this Requiem that I have been planning for over a year. I will probably get flak about it from my significant other, but I will deal with it. Maybe this will be the last "big" thing I will ever do.
People think I am not grateful because I so often feel frustrated at how anonymous and irrelevant I feel...no matter how well I sing (or do anything for that matter) I am surrounded in this city and particularly in this neighborhood by a suffocating mass of people who can do it better.
It is easy to say, OK, I have it pretty good. I have someone who loves me, however flawed our relationship is, something to do for a modest living that I can do on my own schedule, a cheap apartment in a pricey ZIP code, not to mention that I am old enough now to know that no matter who is President, I, personally, will not fall through the cracks. I spent 35 years bored out of my wits for most of the day and what I have to show for it is two 401ks and health insurance for life. And now I earn little enough that I could probably qualify for lower middle income subsidized senior housing if I lost this apartment.
But I have this huge hunger in me to be somebody and in this environment I am nobody even if I leave the house every day flawlessly made up, looking like I am going for a photo shoot or at the very least a curtain call....no mean feat at 62 when nobody cares how I look but me and my significant other. It ain't in my job description.
Lately I have just felt like giving up. One thing I learned (surprisingly) during the hurricane was how lovely it was to lie in bed in the dark (I could have done with a little heat) listening to the radio with my significant other with few pressures other than having to run home for a few hours a day to work at my laptop (I had power in the apartment, she didn't). The competition was on hold
I want to run away to Ogunquit Maine. Almost every summer we spent a week here. And this picture doesn't even do it justice. This room looks out on a Japanese garden that was written up in a magazine (I can't remember which one, now).
Just think if I lived in Ogunquit. Well, I would have to walk everywhere except in July and August when the trolley is running, which would mean walking the equivalent of ten blocks, possibly in the snow, to buy overpriced groceries at a small convenience store. Or maybe there might be someplace I could order groceries online? There would only be one church within walking distance, and chances are I would get to be the star soloist full stop. I would get bored pretty quickly...there are a few art galleries and a summer theater from which I would have to walk home the equivalent of 15 blocks with a flashlight, because it's not on the trolley route, and two movie theaters. Maybe once a month or so I could take the bus to Portland but I would probably only get to spend 4 hours there because the last bus gets back fairly early, I think. I would be bored, but I wouldn't feel like I was drowning at the bottom of a pool of talent, so far down at the bottom of the pool that no one can even see my nose.
If I hadn't been born in New York it would be easy. I could go "home", presumably somewhere where I would be a bigger fish than I am here, and I would feel less overwhelmed. But I have noplace to go home to.
I could choose to live a simple life here: just close my eyes to the mass of talented people, never go to another audition, stop reading Classical Singer, unfriend all the working singers on Facebook who don't know me and certainly don't care about me even if we met once or twice at a "meetup", and be an unpaid choir soloist and go caroling in nursing homes and sing a few art songs. But is that giving up? Is that admitting that I am a failure? Or is it being grateful?
Next week I have the first rehearsal for this Requiem that I have been planning for over a year. I will probably get flak about it from my significant other, but I will deal with it. Maybe this will be the last "big" thing I will ever do.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Singing and Life are Such a Bad Mix - How Do People Do It?
Among the many reasons I gave up singing at age 30, along with that it was too expensive for a hobby and I needed to go to college at night so I could get a decent job, and that it was considered a "politically incorrect" choice for Lesbians in 1980, was that I simply could not manage the amount of self care required. It was too much fun to be skinny, sleep-deprived, and hoarse after a night of clubbing (even if I myself was no longer smoking).
When I went back to singing I was 54, and took good care of myself anyhow so it was no longer as big an issue.
But despite no longer crash dieting or clubbing, well, there's life. And most of life is not lived with the buoyantly lifted ribcage, the serene breath, and the open pharyngeal space.
Even if one eats properly and sleeps adequately, sadness deflates the ribs, annoyance constricts the back of the throat, minor depression makes it oh, so hard to give that extra lower abdominal "push" needed for those high notes to sail out.
When I was growing up, my mother, who loved classical music but had little respect for classical musicians, referred to singers as "bovine". One of her friends (whom I didn't really know) taught voice at one of the big conservatories and when she went to his house she met several singers (and there was an up and coming young male opera singer who lived next door to us). According to my mother, most of these people were placid, very few if any came from New York, and none of them could carry on a particularly intelligent or animated conversation about the issues of the day.
In the "olden days", I think singers led very sheltered lives (remember all the jokes about female singers and their mothers?). They were not exposed to much that would make them want to scream, cry, or sink into the sort of angst that is best fed with cigarettes, alcohol, or if not those, lots of coffee and interminable talking.
If anyone is wondering why I am thinking about this now, it's that for so much of last three years, I have been stressed to the breaking point by eldercare. Not just the sadness of seeing someone you love in decline, but dealing with the logistics of another person's life as well as your own, worrying, being deprived of sleep, arguing to get a point across with a service provider. It's draining, it makes you hoarse, it's sad, and it's extremely difficult to then go (if I can even find the time) and joyfully or pseudojoyfully muster up the superhuman, tension-free, golden throated energy balance to sing my opera repertoire.
I mean I have enough basic technique to enable me to go on autopilot and sing through a church solo that doesn't go above a G. But nothing more strenuous.
I mean there seem to be singers who can keep the back of their throats open and speak musically no matter how angry or sad they are (is that what my mother meant by "bovine"?) but I am certainly not one of them. (That also may be why it seems that there are not a lot of singers who were born in New York City - the way we speak is absolutely the worst thing a singer can do.) Or maybe some people have been blessed with so much natural energy balance and stamina that they can get all that infrastructure to hold up an evening of Amneris or Azucena even if they are depressed, angry, nervous, or tired. I don't know. I am not one of them, certainly not now.
Some days now I so just want to wallow in all the things that are bad for singing (I think that's what 12 step programs call "feeling your feelings") like talking, eating and sleeping too little, letting my body crumple up and my ribcage collapse, and enjoying the pain of exhaustion as it mirrors the pain in my heart.
(I say pain in my heart because even if the immediate danger has passed, this is probably a downhill slope from which there is no scrambling back to wellness and happiness for my loved one.)
But I have fought too hard for what I have.
So I am going to my lesson tomorrow.
And I will see if I can squeeze in a practice some time this week.
When I went back to singing I was 54, and took good care of myself anyhow so it was no longer as big an issue.
But despite no longer crash dieting or clubbing, well, there's life. And most of life is not lived with the buoyantly lifted ribcage, the serene breath, and the open pharyngeal space.
Even if one eats properly and sleeps adequately, sadness deflates the ribs, annoyance constricts the back of the throat, minor depression makes it oh, so hard to give that extra lower abdominal "push" needed for those high notes to sail out.
When I was growing up, my mother, who loved classical music but had little respect for classical musicians, referred to singers as "bovine". One of her friends (whom I didn't really know) taught voice at one of the big conservatories and when she went to his house she met several singers (and there was an up and coming young male opera singer who lived next door to us). According to my mother, most of these people were placid, very few if any came from New York, and none of them could carry on a particularly intelligent or animated conversation about the issues of the day.
In the "olden days", I think singers led very sheltered lives (remember all the jokes about female singers and their mothers?). They were not exposed to much that would make them want to scream, cry, or sink into the sort of angst that is best fed with cigarettes, alcohol, or if not those, lots of coffee and interminable talking.
If anyone is wondering why I am thinking about this now, it's that for so much of last three years, I have been stressed to the breaking point by eldercare. Not just the sadness of seeing someone you love in decline, but dealing with the logistics of another person's life as well as your own, worrying, being deprived of sleep, arguing to get a point across with a service provider. It's draining, it makes you hoarse, it's sad, and it's extremely difficult to then go (if I can even find the time) and joyfully or pseudojoyfully muster up the superhuman, tension-free, golden throated energy balance to sing my opera repertoire.
I mean I have enough basic technique to enable me to go on autopilot and sing through a church solo that doesn't go above a G. But nothing more strenuous.
I mean there seem to be singers who can keep the back of their throats open and speak musically no matter how angry or sad they are (is that what my mother meant by "bovine"?) but I am certainly not one of them. (That also may be why it seems that there are not a lot of singers who were born in New York City - the way we speak is absolutely the worst thing a singer can do.) Or maybe some people have been blessed with so much natural energy balance and stamina that they can get all that infrastructure to hold up an evening of Amneris or Azucena even if they are depressed, angry, nervous, or tired. I don't know. I am not one of them, certainly not now.
Some days now I so just want to wallow in all the things that are bad for singing (I think that's what 12 step programs call "feeling your feelings") like talking, eating and sleeping too little, letting my body crumple up and my ribcage collapse, and enjoying the pain of exhaustion as it mirrors the pain in my heart.
(I say pain in my heart because even if the immediate danger has passed, this is probably a downhill slope from which there is no scrambling back to wellness and happiness for my loved one.)
But I have fought too hard for what I have.
So I am going to my lesson tomorrow.
And I will see if I can squeeze in a practice some time this week.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Post-Birthday Letdown? Or Something Else?
First, on an upbeat note, here is a link to a really inspirational piece by the esteemed Susan Eichhorn Young.
http://susan-oncemorewithfeeling.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-beauty-of-cream.html
I really really need this right now. Reading this piece made me feel it is "OK" for me to think I have something special that is worth fostering.
Here's one big problem. I have said (and meant) that I don't really care if I get paid for singing. I have something else that I get paid for doing and I am lucky to even have that in this economy. It's dull (although I take pride in doing it well, and can get caught up in narratives about people dying of cancer, historic Supreme Court cases from the turn of the 20th Century, the latest techniques for using lasers for root canals, etc.) but I can do it at home on my own time. Where there's a problem, is that if you don't do something for a living, other people don't think you should make it a priority. So - it's OK if you can't do something because you're working but not if you're involved with something that's a hobby. Singing in church is ok because people should have a right to practice their religion. Even prisoners (which I sometimes feel like and certainly identify with) get to do that. Never mind that it doesn't happen to be my religion - although that's not actually true. If one of my religions is High Art, then I get to practice it every Sunday that I sing a piece by Bach, Beethoven, or Benjamin Britten, just to name a few. But once I step outside the acceptable box of work, family, and religion, it becomes more problematic.
I was feeling excited about making plans to choose some things to sing in a concert on September 11 (which I don't even know yet if I have a spot in). When I mentioned this to my partner I will give her credit that she didn't ask my why I was doing this and give me a hard time, but she did say "well, I assume you're not getting paid, but I know you will be happy to have the experience." So OK. An improvement over telling me I am wasting time and money, but not exactly a big thumbs up.
(I have decided to postpone telling her about the Requiem until another day.)
One of my problems is I don't just love singing, I love all the ambient trappings that go with life as a singer, and I have even less access to those except in a contrived way - out-dressing everyone for an evening in the theater - that people find silly and superfluous. Many singers don't love those things. They see them as a necessary evil, the way I saw numbers as a necessary evil when I had a job supervising 20 people. I was interested in the people, not in bloody metrics!! I not only want to wail out an aria with technical precision and passion, I also want to get dressed up, talk to people about my hair, makeup, and outfits, have pictures taken, travel, live in hotels (some people want a McMansion - my dream is to live in an expensive hotel where I never have to lift a finger), see the world without having to shell out thousands of dollars for a "vacation", flirt with "coworkers" as part of my "job", and, just, in general, be a public person.
Even the friends with benefits I hide under the table have to be, well, hidden under the table, so I can't even brag to the universe about having that at 62. Which is no mean feat, considering that they're both 45.
So I have this exciting life that is meaningful to me, and then there's the person other people think they see and interact with: the stay-at-home copyeditor, the tenant advocate, the friend, the caregiver, the museum attendee, the person who reads the New York Times.
Maybe I should work on my "happening". If someone can dress up as the Statue of Liberty maybe I should put on an evening gown, stilettos, and a wig, and pose outside the Food Emporium. All I need now is a photographer. And I can't let my partner know - she would be horrified.
And now it's time to go practice.
http://susan-oncemorewithfeeling.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-beauty-of-cream.html
I really really need this right now. Reading this piece made me feel it is "OK" for me to think I have something special that is worth fostering.
Here's one big problem. I have said (and meant) that I don't really care if I get paid for singing. I have something else that I get paid for doing and I am lucky to even have that in this economy. It's dull (although I take pride in doing it well, and can get caught up in narratives about people dying of cancer, historic Supreme Court cases from the turn of the 20th Century, the latest techniques for using lasers for root canals, etc.) but I can do it at home on my own time. Where there's a problem, is that if you don't do something for a living, other people don't think you should make it a priority. So - it's OK if you can't do something because you're working but not if you're involved with something that's a hobby. Singing in church is ok because people should have a right to practice their religion. Even prisoners (which I sometimes feel like and certainly identify with) get to do that. Never mind that it doesn't happen to be my religion - although that's not actually true. If one of my religions is High Art, then I get to practice it every Sunday that I sing a piece by Bach, Beethoven, or Benjamin Britten, just to name a few. But once I step outside the acceptable box of work, family, and religion, it becomes more problematic.
I was feeling excited about making plans to choose some things to sing in a concert on September 11 (which I don't even know yet if I have a spot in). When I mentioned this to my partner I will give her credit that she didn't ask my why I was doing this and give me a hard time, but she did say "well, I assume you're not getting paid, but I know you will be happy to have the experience." So OK. An improvement over telling me I am wasting time and money, but not exactly a big thumbs up.
(I have decided to postpone telling her about the Requiem until another day.)
One of my problems is I don't just love singing, I love all the ambient trappings that go with life as a singer, and I have even less access to those except in a contrived way - out-dressing everyone for an evening in the theater - that people find silly and superfluous. Many singers don't love those things. They see them as a necessary evil, the way I saw numbers as a necessary evil when I had a job supervising 20 people. I was interested in the people, not in bloody metrics!! I not only want to wail out an aria with technical precision and passion, I also want to get dressed up, talk to people about my hair, makeup, and outfits, have pictures taken, travel, live in hotels (some people want a McMansion - my dream is to live in an expensive hotel where I never have to lift a finger), see the world without having to shell out thousands of dollars for a "vacation", flirt with "coworkers" as part of my "job", and, just, in general, be a public person.
Even the friends with benefits I hide under the table have to be, well, hidden under the table, so I can't even brag to the universe about having that at 62. Which is no mean feat, considering that they're both 45.
So I have this exciting life that is meaningful to me, and then there's the person other people think they see and interact with: the stay-at-home copyeditor, the tenant advocate, the friend, the caregiver, the museum attendee, the person who reads the New York Times.
Maybe I should work on my "happening". If someone can dress up as the Statue of Liberty maybe I should put on an evening gown, stilettos, and a wig, and pose outside the Food Emporium. All I need now is a photographer. And I can't let my partner know - she would be horrified.
And now it's time to go practice.
Friday, June 1, 2012
On Gratitude and Lassitude
Today it will be 8 years since I have been seeing this therapist, who is now going away for 3 weeks. Does this mean I am a hard case who is unable to change? When I started seeing her I was awash in feelings about the Mentor, musical, romantic, and otherwise, and felt trapped with my partner with whom I had not had a real relationship for quite some time, and whose life revolved around a host of minor physical ailments that day by day made her life (and by extension my life) smaller and smaller.
Sometimes I wonder if I have made any progress at all.
I got away from the Mentor and even made peace with him (so that if we run into each other it is neither a cat fight nor a stony face-off) but the imprint he put on me has not left (which is a good thing) and I have found ways to amuse myself under the radar. I have left the painfully stressful and boring job, which had me quasi-suicidal, although that was not through any efforts of my own.
I keep singing better and better, but at the same time feel smaller and smaller in the universe of singing and have had enough bad experiences out in the "big wide world" that I no longer venture forth to do anything that I have not planned myself.
I spent two years - 2006 and 2007, ostensibly "single", coming and going as I pleased and fighting off nuisance calls and threats from my partner. After she had a hip replacement in 2007 I began taking care of her again, and yes, I really love her and it breaks my heart that she is now really ill, physically and possibly mentally as well, and may be losing her eyesight. I don't have the energy to fight over every little thing, like why am I spending $25 to go to a group get up and sing thing, where everyone will sing better than I do (or at least be much younger and have much more confidence). So there is a synergy between my own fears of inadequacy and not having the strength for a fight over something that no longer seems worth fighting for.
Yes, I will fight for my Requiem. If I have to I will lie and say other people are helping me pay for the pianist, just to shut my partner up. Or I will treat her to something I can't afford to sweeten the pill, so she sees that there is money for a vanity event and for "us".
All this came to a head because my teacher gave me a list of operas that this pay to sing outfit is doing. The price is actually quite reasonable and the repertoire is right up my alley. It will probably cost more for me to produce this Requiem but at least with that I have control over what I sing and how I am treated by other people. Now, I should say that my teacher didn't suggest that I audition for this outfit, he only mentioned it because sometimes the man who runs it asks him to sing something if there aren't enough paying men to handle all the performances (he knows almost every tenor and baritone role in every standard opera). So he is working on Adriana Lecouvreur. The princess is a role I really want to sing. It suits my voice and personality and the highest note is an A. So I will work on it, once I get the Requiem under my belt. I sang through "Acerba Volutta" at my lesson after not having sung it since January. My teacher said it sounded better although I didn't feel I had the "oomph" for the ending the first go around. He suggested not taking a breath before "non mente" (the word "mente" is on a high A) but that only worked in the studio, not at home. I suggested that maybe when we're done with the Requiem we could work on the duet from Adriana and put together another concert and call it "Viva Verismo" (the Verdi concert I did last year was called "Viva Verdi"). I also sang some of the best real high Cs at that lesson that I have ever sung.
But I just find it so hard to get my energy up, emotionally and otherwise.
I mentioned "gratitude" in the title of this post because I think I find it hard to differentiate between gratitude and lassitude. Sometimes I can slip into gratitude without realizing it and feel content in my cozy apartment, knowing that I have paychecks coming in, albeit small ones, cuddling with my cat and watching reruns of Dowton Abbey, but then I think "if I give up the fight, that means I am lazy".
I was wishing I still had the Mentor to fight with, yearn after, and fear. At least that lit a fire under me.
Sometimes I wonder if I have made any progress at all.
I got away from the Mentor and even made peace with him (so that if we run into each other it is neither a cat fight nor a stony face-off) but the imprint he put on me has not left (which is a good thing) and I have found ways to amuse myself under the radar. I have left the painfully stressful and boring job, which had me quasi-suicidal, although that was not through any efforts of my own.
I keep singing better and better, but at the same time feel smaller and smaller in the universe of singing and have had enough bad experiences out in the "big wide world" that I no longer venture forth to do anything that I have not planned myself.
I spent two years - 2006 and 2007, ostensibly "single", coming and going as I pleased and fighting off nuisance calls and threats from my partner. After she had a hip replacement in 2007 I began taking care of her again, and yes, I really love her and it breaks my heart that she is now really ill, physically and possibly mentally as well, and may be losing her eyesight. I don't have the energy to fight over every little thing, like why am I spending $25 to go to a group get up and sing thing, where everyone will sing better than I do (or at least be much younger and have much more confidence). So there is a synergy between my own fears of inadequacy and not having the strength for a fight over something that no longer seems worth fighting for.
Yes, I will fight for my Requiem. If I have to I will lie and say other people are helping me pay for the pianist, just to shut my partner up. Or I will treat her to something I can't afford to sweeten the pill, so she sees that there is money for a vanity event and for "us".
All this came to a head because my teacher gave me a list of operas that this pay to sing outfit is doing. The price is actually quite reasonable and the repertoire is right up my alley. It will probably cost more for me to produce this Requiem but at least with that I have control over what I sing and how I am treated by other people. Now, I should say that my teacher didn't suggest that I audition for this outfit, he only mentioned it because sometimes the man who runs it asks him to sing something if there aren't enough paying men to handle all the performances (he knows almost every tenor and baritone role in every standard opera). So he is working on Adriana Lecouvreur. The princess is a role I really want to sing. It suits my voice and personality and the highest note is an A. So I will work on it, once I get the Requiem under my belt. I sang through "Acerba Volutta" at my lesson after not having sung it since January. My teacher said it sounded better although I didn't feel I had the "oomph" for the ending the first go around. He suggested not taking a breath before "non mente" (the word "mente" is on a high A) but that only worked in the studio, not at home. I suggested that maybe when we're done with the Requiem we could work on the duet from Adriana and put together another concert and call it "Viva Verismo" (the Verdi concert I did last year was called "Viva Verdi"). I also sang some of the best real high Cs at that lesson that I have ever sung.
But I just find it so hard to get my energy up, emotionally and otherwise.
I mentioned "gratitude" in the title of this post because I think I find it hard to differentiate between gratitude and lassitude. Sometimes I can slip into gratitude without realizing it and feel content in my cozy apartment, knowing that I have paychecks coming in, albeit small ones, cuddling with my cat and watching reruns of Dowton Abbey, but then I think "if I give up the fight, that means I am lazy".
I was wishing I still had the Mentor to fight with, yearn after, and fear. At least that lit a fire under me.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Baby D Posts a Want Ad
Friday I was talking to my therapist about how unhappy I am that I can't seem to find a meaningful way to participate in any of these Meetups, Sing-Things, Soirees, etc.
This is for at least three reasons: I have limited time,I have limited confidence, and I have no peer group or support system, even a support system of one (meaning a family member or peer who would come with me to some of these things).
When I started going to these kinds of things, I really thought I would meet some kind of peer group there and be able to network. Did I have an overly aggrandized view of myself? Why didn't anything click? Yes, I was nervous, but to some extent so is everyone. But most of the people I saw at those things had a history, and with that history came relationships, and out of relationships came opportunities to do things together, commiserate, support each other, make plans. The problem is aside from being one of a pool of choir soloists, I don't have anything like that, so I would go to those things and feel very alone. I would feel nervous, not to mention depressed because often I would have had a fight with my partner beforehand about why I was going at all, then I would feel that I didn't sing my best, and then I would get no feedback - I don't even mean feedback about my singing, I mean feedback about my place in the whole universe of singing.
To paraphrase Soujourner Truth, all the beginners were young and all the mature people were polished (and the mature people were barely in their late 40s).
So whom did I think I would meet at one of these things? A late-starting classical singer who wanted more than just being a soloist in a amateur chorus or choir but didn't have the time to rehearse an opera four nights a week? Someone who could sing his/her way through an aria or scene well enough to please an audience but not well enough to impress the cognoscenti??
So where are these people???? Do they even exist??
One thing I miss about that horrid Unitarian church was at least when I was there they did all sorts of things besides church services - cabarets, etc., so I could get up and sing an aria and be a diva for an evening, wear something fabulous, get a lot of applause, and not overtax myself. And usually I would know about this at least two months in advance so I could prepare myself.
The church where I sing now doesn't do these sorts of things.
Up until recently, I was measuring myself against how well I could sing the material I was singing. I had no idea, really, how extremely low down the food chain I was because I didn't really fathom the mass of talented people who were doing this.
So what do I want (I mean besides wanting to be able to sing well and put on some kind of something once or twice a year.)? (My last post was about how I defined success. OK. I know that. What I'm asking myself is what kind of environment do I want that I so desperately feel I don't have?)
So here goes:
SUPERANNUATED DIVA WITH MODEST TALENT is seeking classical singers over 50 who are not "professionals", "emerging professionals", or "managed". Preferably those who started singing late, sing well enough to slog through some operatic rep without making the audience cringe but don't have the time or money to get it together to sing this sort of material in public more the two or three times a year. A love of dressing to the nines and chewing up the scenery a plus.
I cynically thought of posting something like this on the forum but even thinking about that place makes me want to crawl under the couch.
There's also something Wizard of Oz-ish about all this, too. The Wizard told the Scarecrow he didn't need a brain, he needed a degree. There's a part of me that thinks what I need isn't a voice (I've got that) or a techniqiue (I've got a lot of that and who has it all anyhow?) or ever "the noive" as the Cowardly Lion says, but someone to validate me. A buddy who says "Hey, are you going to the Meetup on ____________?" "Let's go," gives me a shove and a smile, some honest feedback, and a promise that soon we would be back again.
This is for at least three reasons: I have limited time,I have limited confidence, and I have no peer group or support system, even a support system of one (meaning a family member or peer who would come with me to some of these things).
When I started going to these kinds of things, I really thought I would meet some kind of peer group there and be able to network. Did I have an overly aggrandized view of myself? Why didn't anything click? Yes, I was nervous, but to some extent so is everyone. But most of the people I saw at those things had a history, and with that history came relationships, and out of relationships came opportunities to do things together, commiserate, support each other, make plans. The problem is aside from being one of a pool of choir soloists, I don't have anything like that, so I would go to those things and feel very alone. I would feel nervous, not to mention depressed because often I would have had a fight with my partner beforehand about why I was going at all, then I would feel that I didn't sing my best, and then I would get no feedback - I don't even mean feedback about my singing, I mean feedback about my place in the whole universe of singing.
To paraphrase Soujourner Truth, all the beginners were young and all the mature people were polished (and the mature people were barely in their late 40s).
So whom did I think I would meet at one of these things? A late-starting classical singer who wanted more than just being a soloist in a amateur chorus or choir but didn't have the time to rehearse an opera four nights a week? Someone who could sing his/her way through an aria or scene well enough to please an audience but not well enough to impress the cognoscenti??
So where are these people???? Do they even exist??
One thing I miss about that horrid Unitarian church was at least when I was there they did all sorts of things besides church services - cabarets, etc., so I could get up and sing an aria and be a diva for an evening, wear something fabulous, get a lot of applause, and not overtax myself. And usually I would know about this at least two months in advance so I could prepare myself.
The church where I sing now doesn't do these sorts of things.
Up until recently, I was measuring myself against how well I could sing the material I was singing. I had no idea, really, how extremely low down the food chain I was because I didn't really fathom the mass of talented people who were doing this.
So what do I want (I mean besides wanting to be able to sing well and put on some kind of something once or twice a year.)? (My last post was about how I defined success. OK. I know that. What I'm asking myself is what kind of environment do I want that I so desperately feel I don't have?)
So here goes:
SUPERANNUATED DIVA WITH MODEST TALENT is seeking classical singers over 50 who are not "professionals", "emerging professionals", or "managed". Preferably those who started singing late, sing well enough to slog through some operatic rep without making the audience cringe but don't have the time or money to get it together to sing this sort of material in public more the two or three times a year. A love of dressing to the nines and chewing up the scenery a plus.
I cynically thought of posting something like this on the forum but even thinking about that place makes me want to crawl under the couch.
There's also something Wizard of Oz-ish about all this, too. The Wizard told the Scarecrow he didn't need a brain, he needed a degree. There's a part of me that thinks what I need isn't a voice (I've got that) or a techniqiue (I've got a lot of that and who has it all anyhow?) or ever "the noive" as the Cowardly Lion says, but someone to validate me. A buddy who says "Hey, are you going to the Meetup on ____________?" "Let's go," gives me a shove and a smile, some honest feedback, and a promise that soon we would be back again.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
CD
I was not thrilled with how I sounded on the CD. Some of what sounded bad, especially on the upper notes, was the result of distortion, but not all.
I will say that overall, let's say from middle C up to the G below high C, my voice sounds bigger, rounder, and more even. I sound like a real professional operatic mezzo. But the notes above that just sound like screaming. Singing up there sounded more pleasant, say, in 2008 when I sang Dalila, on the other hand the rest of my singing was not as good. My teacher said that. He said I mostly sort of crooned, and then saved my energy for a couple of top notes, which were still not easy for me. So there has definitely been progress. If I felt things were going in the wrong direction I would get another teacher. Things are going in the right direction - the problem is they are going in the right direction so slowly, and I'm not a 21 year old conservatory student or even a 31 year old with a big dramatic voice that hasn't gotten itself together yet, I'm bloody 61!!! So the fight to improve my technique, my stamina, and my confidence is racing against what the aging process is doing to my body.
And I have so little time, not just in the long term sense, but in the day to day sense. I have to earn a living, and so much of the rest of my time is taken up with eldercare. I don't have a circle of musical/performing friends with whom I can share these activities as part of my discretionary time - I am taking care of someone elderly, which entails not just doing chores for her on the weekend but also meeting with social workers, sending emails back and forth, etc.
So aside from an 30-60 minutes a day of practice, my choir commitments and my voice lessons, anything else has to be squeezed into the nooks and crannies and it's not enough.
Two years ago I had more confidence. I went to auditions (the only one that yielded anything ended up with my spending $450 on "tickets" to sing three pages of music, which the director hated, so I walked out - I don't mean in a diva huff - I wrote to the director to say I wasn't coming back). Now I just don't see the point. I wouldn't have time to participate in an intensive rehearsal schedule even if I did get something and the likelihood of my getting anything is almost nil anyhow. I used to mostly go to auditions for the thrill of getting dressed up and singing in front of people but I just don't have the heart for it any more.
My therapist of all people suggested that I go to a "Meetup" for singers, so I went intermittently, but the people there are so much more polished and even if they aren't making money singing (and never will) they are
out there performing big roles even for a fee or no pay and they sing for agents and they all know each other and give each other encouragement. I feel like I am so far below everyone on the food chain that I don't matter, which makes it hard for me even to sing my best, and it becomes a downward spiral.
The woman who rented me the space to do the concert and who was so encouraging and complimentary is having soirees and hosting master classes, but I just don't have the heart to go to any of them. I feel I will have to argue with my partner about taking the time and spending the (minimal amount of) money, that I will feel like a worm because I don't sound as polished as most of the other people and don't have a future in which to become much moreso.
Well, I sang well at my lesson and overall feel I am singing better than I was several months ago.
So I will look forward to making my CD.
I will say that overall, let's say from middle C up to the G below high C, my voice sounds bigger, rounder, and more even. I sound like a real professional operatic mezzo. But the notes above that just sound like screaming. Singing up there sounded more pleasant, say, in 2008 when I sang Dalila, on the other hand the rest of my singing was not as good. My teacher said that. He said I mostly sort of crooned, and then saved my energy for a couple of top notes, which were still not easy for me. So there has definitely been progress. If I felt things were going in the wrong direction I would get another teacher. Things are going in the right direction - the problem is they are going in the right direction so slowly, and I'm not a 21 year old conservatory student or even a 31 year old with a big dramatic voice that hasn't gotten itself together yet, I'm bloody 61!!! So the fight to improve my technique, my stamina, and my confidence is racing against what the aging process is doing to my body.
And I have so little time, not just in the long term sense, but in the day to day sense. I have to earn a living, and so much of the rest of my time is taken up with eldercare. I don't have a circle of musical/performing friends with whom I can share these activities as part of my discretionary time - I am taking care of someone elderly, which entails not just doing chores for her on the weekend but also meeting with social workers, sending emails back and forth, etc.
So aside from an 30-60 minutes a day of practice, my choir commitments and my voice lessons, anything else has to be squeezed into the nooks and crannies and it's not enough.
Two years ago I had more confidence. I went to auditions (the only one that yielded anything ended up with my spending $450 on "tickets" to sing three pages of music, which the director hated, so I walked out - I don't mean in a diva huff - I wrote to the director to say I wasn't coming back). Now I just don't see the point. I wouldn't have time to participate in an intensive rehearsal schedule even if I did get something and the likelihood of my getting anything is almost nil anyhow. I used to mostly go to auditions for the thrill of getting dressed up and singing in front of people but I just don't have the heart for it any more.
My therapist of all people suggested that I go to a "Meetup" for singers, so I went intermittently, but the people there are so much more polished and even if they aren't making money singing (and never will) they are
out there performing big roles even for a fee or no pay and they sing for agents and they all know each other and give each other encouragement. I feel like I am so far below everyone on the food chain that I don't matter, which makes it hard for me even to sing my best, and it becomes a downward spiral.
The woman who rented me the space to do the concert and who was so encouraging and complimentary is having soirees and hosting master classes, but I just don't have the heart to go to any of them. I feel I will have to argue with my partner about taking the time and spending the (minimal amount of) money, that I will feel like a worm because I don't sound as polished as most of the other people and don't have a future in which to become much moreso.
Well, I sang well at my lesson and overall feel I am singing better than I was several months ago.
So I will look forward to making my CD.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Of Boot Camp, (Somewhat) Boring Lists, and the Blahs
The idea of "Boot Camp" was one I encountered in my pseudonymous blogging community. It was there that I met "real" singers, meaning working singers. They didn't necessarily earn their entire living from singing, but when they sang they got paid and when they auditioned somewhere people took them seriously. Not to mention that when they wrote about singing people respected them. This was a huge wake-up call to me, because it put my past as a singer in perspective (a very tiny perspective). Having sung the role of Laura in La Gioconda at 30 in an opera house the size of a postage stamp with a piano, sets that were falling down, and a costume that didn't fit was my idea of stardom but in that company (meaning the company of the real singers in the blogging community) it wasn't. So I ended up feeling very very very very small. There were the singers coming to New York for auditions, knowing that I lived two blocks from Lincoln Center and never acknowledging me when I gave them a shout out, for starters. Some of them I "unfriended", one "unfriended" me when I wrote something peevish. In any event, one of the pseudonymous bloggers has set up a well-respected blog under her own name, and even though it is primarily about weight loss, she is a "real" singer, so I can get vicarious pleasure from reading it. In any event, she reintroduced the subject of "boot camp"(mainly a way for working opera singers to focus on diet and fitness with a nod to a few other things)so as I am now a bone fide commenter (in this blogging community and hers people can't be friended and unfriended) I decided to sign on.
This is what I committed to:
To continue seriously working to fulfill my dream of being part of a quartet of serious amateur opera singers over 50 and book engagements for us.
1. Spend five hours a week (one hour a day five days a week) working on the scenes from Aida and Trovatore that I'm singing in our first concert.
2. Find a way to overcome the unGodly terror I have always had of singing above A natural (use any and all tricks, images, techniques, etc.)
3. (This one I got from you) Write down an affirmation and read it before I start practicing.
4. Have a plan for our next project ready when the concert is over. (Maybe the long dreamed-of abridged Verdi Requiem during next year's Lent at the church where I'm a soloist).
5. Follow up on the offer I got from several people to subsidize my making a CD to sell at the church.
6. Ignore all flak I get at home about these projects. Don't argue, just be calm and assertive.
Things have not been going as well as I had hoped. Yesterday I didn't sing at all because I had two long meetings with social workers and by the time I got home I had work to catch up on and by the time I was done with that it was 7:30 and I knew I would just be too tired to sing properly.
Last night I had a good night's sleep, woke up and worked from 9 to 4:30, as I'd promised myself, then hit the bathroom, my practice room, where I dampen the sound by running the water (ducks flying objects thrown by environmentalists). Vocalizing went well. I seem now to be able to sing long arpeggios up to a high C (of course like everything else to do with my extreme upper register, this has been touch and go for six years) but "Condotta" didn't go so well. I sang some decent B flats if I started in the middle, but not when I started at the beginning. I just don't know how to ground myself between the word "brucciato" on the high A, and what comes next, which can either be an A sliding to a B flat or a B flat. I gulp for air, gasp for breath, panic, don't breathe, turn into a wooden plank, etc. etc. Why I don't have that problem when I start in the middle I have no idea.
Well, I broke my first promise to myself in that I didn't practice for an hour. After singing that section about seven times, I decided my voice needed a rest. Then I had dinner (I ate rice with lunch and dinner....did that sap my energy?) and hoped to at least get to the Aida trio (in a comfortable middle register) but felt it was more important to do some more work. (I have spent so much time talking to social workers this week I have not worked the hours I need to to pay my bills.)
I did read my affirmation. I thought I had lost it, but found it taped inside my score of Samson et Dalila (another opera I sang really well with a B flat that gave me the cold sweats for months although I managed it in the performance).
Here's what it says, for what it's worth.
I have everything I need to succeed.
I deserve success.
I am at my best when I am calm.
I am poised and powerful, centered and secure, confident and in control.
I am graceful under pressure.
I have what it takes!
So what's the matter with me!!! I know all these things are true but they're not there when I need them. Or maybe they will be, if I can take the week off before my concert. Not off from my livelihood - that's nice and quiet and calm. But off from the stress of my partner's endless emergencies. I'm just waiting for her to have one that week. She's probably saving one up.
This is what I committed to:
To continue seriously working to fulfill my dream of being part of a quartet of serious amateur opera singers over 50 and book engagements for us.
1. Spend five hours a week (one hour a day five days a week) working on the scenes from Aida and Trovatore that I'm singing in our first concert.
2. Find a way to overcome the unGodly terror I have always had of singing above A natural (use any and all tricks, images, techniques, etc.)
3. (This one I got from you) Write down an affirmation and read it before I start practicing.
4. Have a plan for our next project ready when the concert is over. (Maybe the long dreamed-of abridged Verdi Requiem during next year's Lent at the church where I'm a soloist).
5. Follow up on the offer I got from several people to subsidize my making a CD to sell at the church.
6. Ignore all flak I get at home about these projects. Don't argue, just be calm and assertive.
Things have not been going as well as I had hoped. Yesterday I didn't sing at all because I had two long meetings with social workers and by the time I got home I had work to catch up on and by the time I was done with that it was 7:30 and I knew I would just be too tired to sing properly.
Last night I had a good night's sleep, woke up and worked from 9 to 4:30, as I'd promised myself, then hit the bathroom, my practice room, where I dampen the sound by running the water (ducks flying objects thrown by environmentalists). Vocalizing went well. I seem now to be able to sing long arpeggios up to a high C (of course like everything else to do with my extreme upper register, this has been touch and go for six years) but "Condotta" didn't go so well. I sang some decent B flats if I started in the middle, but not when I started at the beginning. I just don't know how to ground myself between the word "brucciato" on the high A, and what comes next, which can either be an A sliding to a B flat or a B flat. I gulp for air, gasp for breath, panic, don't breathe, turn into a wooden plank, etc. etc. Why I don't have that problem when I start in the middle I have no idea.
Well, I broke my first promise to myself in that I didn't practice for an hour. After singing that section about seven times, I decided my voice needed a rest. Then I had dinner (I ate rice with lunch and dinner....did that sap my energy?) and hoped to at least get to the Aida trio (in a comfortable middle register) but felt it was more important to do some more work. (I have spent so much time talking to social workers this week I have not worked the hours I need to to pay my bills.)
I did read my affirmation. I thought I had lost it, but found it taped inside my score of Samson et Dalila (another opera I sang really well with a B flat that gave me the cold sweats for months although I managed it in the performance).
Here's what it says, for what it's worth.
I have everything I need to succeed.
I deserve success.
I am at my best when I am calm.
I am poised and powerful, centered and secure, confident and in control.
I am graceful under pressure.
I have what it takes!
So what's the matter with me!!! I know all these things are true but they're not there when I need them. Or maybe they will be, if I can take the week off before my concert. Not off from my livelihood - that's nice and quiet and calm. But off from the stress of my partner's endless emergencies. I'm just waiting for her to have one that week. She's probably saving one up.
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