Comic Relief

Rather than bore you with another of my awful Faust days (I had to hear a lot about Little Miss yesterday, which spoiled any pleasure I had been taking in getting to wail out a top F and G in a choir piece), here is some comic relief.  Many people have posted these on Facebook from time to time, so I figured out how to make one of my own.  The problem is that there is a typo and I couldn't get the image back into "edit" mode to fix it.

It boils down to:

She gets to sing in numerous real operas with prestigious companies, I produce my own home-made concerts.

She has a boyfriend who is a prestigious musician who posts pictures of her (with much kvelling)  all over Facebook, I have a partner who finally realizes how much it means for me to sing (it only took 10 years - no wait!! don't I mean 40??)

She has a prestigious voice teacher who posts encouragement on Facebook.  My teacher doesn't use Facebook.

She gets to dress up and pretend to be someone else, I'm sitting here cleaning up commas.

She's 23, I'm 65.

This afternoon I have a date with myself to practice before I leave for my eldercare weekend (with my cane, so that I won't fall in the snow tomorrow).

I hope this is good for a laugh anyhow.

Faust Days

I haven't had a really bad day in a while, and I suppose this is not a terribly bad day, in that nothing has really happened, other than that there was a little snow last night, and may be some later today, and tomorrow, which for me means packing my cane, and then going into "snow" mode which for me means walking outside as little as possible, taking buses not subways (because the stairs might be slippery), even a car service if it's windy, worrying constantly about my physical safety when I am outside (and this is reality based, not a groundless fear), and constantly making little micro-choices between my physical safety and my mental health.

I mean I might have stayed in today anyhow because it is a holiday and the after school program I have been helping out with is closed, and I have a lot of work to do and no other appointments.  I haven't spent an entire day at home in a while, which is good, because there is definitely an inverse relationship between my mental health and the number of hours I spend in the apartment alone.

The work I do for a living is deadly boring (and even though once I get Social Security I can do as little of it as I have been doing - about 25 hours a week - without worrying about being out on the street I will probably have to do it until I drop dead) and of course the Devil makes work for idle brains (and for me, anyhow, a brain used to take periods out from between authors' initials or to move the date from the middle of a bibliographic entry to the end is an idle one).

Speaking of the Devil, I have decided to rename these days when I feel hopelessly blue "Faust days" because really what it boils down to is I feel like I would sell my soul to the Devil to be 30 or 40 years younger.  That would solve a lot of problems.  I could be singing as well as I am now and making progress at the same rate, but it would really matter, because there would be a future ahead of me (particularly one that other people would see).  My primary responsibility would probably not be taking care of someone 81.  (Childcare is usually a choice. Eldercare is not.)  I would be young enough that I would be physically mobile, geographically mobile, and not yet weighted down with small blessings that are both blessings, and, yes, small.

How this train of thought got started, of course, was that being bored with nothing to do I decided to look at Little Miss's Facebook page and of course my nose got rubbed in the fact that she is getting endless kudos (from the director, from her prestigious voice teacher) for her latest performance at one of the opera companies that rejected me (this one not only wouldn't grant me an audition, the man who runs it even called me on the phone to yell at me for having the audacity to send a resume to him!!) And I see that she received an award from the opera company that told me I was not a "future investment".  And she now has gorgeous head shots (professional, no doubt).

So it makes me feel how tiny my little crumbs are.  My voice teacher is thrilled with my progress, but for Pete's sake he not only doesn't use Facebook, he doesn't even know how to operate a cell phone camera! I did buy a tripod for my iPad, and made a few videos of myself singing, but they only captured my face, and as they were not made in a real-life situation (like singing in church or even with an accompanist) they are hardly even of the caliber to post on Facebook.

Why do I constantly have to give myself pep talks?  Why is no one doing it for me?  I mean how many 65 year olds suddenly discover an entire high extension they never had (well, I'm talking about three notes, but these are important notes)?

I suppose I should be grateful for small blessings.  Little Miss is too busy with her budding career (who is paying for all this, I wonder? she isn't working) to sing in the choir, so 90% of the time I am the only person with any training in the soprano section and I really do keep it on course (in terms of intonation, etc.) And I may be singing more in the Spanish service.  The Director of Music Ministries wrote a section of the church Annual Report, and one of the things he said was that he was going to try to have more "special music" (meaning solos) at the 9 am service and the Spanish service.  I wrote back to him and said that I would be happy to sing at the Spanish service more often (I would never volunteer to sing at 9 although I will do it if asked) but that I needed some suggestions about repertoire.  So he said we would be in touch.  And I think he means it.  The people at the church like my singing.  And the little girl whom I'm tutoring will be thrilled.  She just loves my singing.

ETA: I had written to a friend about how depressed I was feeling and she sent me a lovely note and an e-card that played the "Habanera".  I was so touched that it brought tears to my eyes.  Now I am practicing.  I just aced a high C sharp.  A few years ago I would have cut off two fingers to be able to do that.

Theological Musings for 2016

It's already the 11th and I have not yet written anything to mark this new year!

First, I want to say that in rereading some of my old posts that were not about singing, particularly the ones about same-sex marriage, sexism, and ageism, I see that they are good pieces of writing that can stand on their own, and that I would be proud to read at any writers' workshop.  So I am going to write more of these.

As for my singing, as the huge endlessly frustrating technical problems that I struggled with for years seem now to be at an end, there is less to write about, unless I have sung something somewhere or am making plans.  Every now and then I will have a "bad day" (my teacher and I had a talk about this at my last lesson) but for the most part I have a reliable technique that will stand me in good stead in most situations I am likely to find myself in.

I have two concerts scheduled for 2016: a reprise of the concert version of Carmen (on May 2), and my birthday concert (on July 31).

I have been able to squelch the envy that can overtake me by simply shutting out the world of all the emerging professionals, semi-pros, and others who flock to my neighborhood (the opera Mecca of the world).  I don't go to their performances or read their blog postings or comments.  Little Miss is mostly gone from the choir.  Yes, I am still, somewhere, seething that she has performed with two of the opera companies that rejected me, and that the choir director forwards her email announcements when he never forwarded mine, but my next concert, at least, will only be open to guests over 60 so there!!

Now, as for the title of this post.  One thing I was pondering recently was why, on the one hand, I always define myself theologically as a Unitarian, when, on the other hand, I don't like attending their services.  I think I finally came up with an answer.  I was reading a piece about Unitarians and Christmas that really resonated with me. This was back when Unitarians celebrated Christmas, which now seems to be one of the many sources of friction at their congregations, along with classical music and Biblical art.  Reading that article made me realize that what I am is a nineteenth-century style "Unitarian" not a contemporary "UU".  Suddenly an image came to mind, an image of a large tree.  Judaism is the roots, because of course Christianity grew out of Judaism, and the trunk is what people think of as "JudeoChristian" culture and values.  The tree now has many branches, some of which are fundamentalist, and some of which more liberal, like Reform Judaism and mainline Protestantism, all of which denominations accept same-sex marriage and tend toward the political Left.  Unitarianism used to be a branch of mainline Protestantism.  One that had been growing away from strict doctrine, yes, but still attached to the tree (for example the Unitarian church in Brooklyn where I grew up featured traditional church music, and the choir wore robes).  Now, however, I feel that "UU-ism" has fallen off the tree and is another plant entirely, and it is that with which I am not comfortable.  Having been raised as an atheist, I certainly don't feel rooted in JudeoChristian doctrine, but I do feel rooted in Western culture, much of which involves JudeoChristian music, art, and stories.  How one interprets the art, music, and stories is another matter.  So for example, I see most Bible stories as myths or parables, not as things that happened.  I do not believe that Jesus was the only Son of God, simply a person who was killed for speaking truth to power, and I do not want to be Baptised.  But if I want to have a "church" experience, I want it to be an authentic one (the kind I remember fondly from reading Anthony Trollope and Agatha Christie).  I don't want to hear African drumming or Buddhist chanting.  I also don't want to hear songs by Bob Dylan or John Lennon.  On the other hand, I do appreciate African-American spirituals, even gospel music, because to me those are part of the rich fabric of Western religious experience, particularly in this country.  And I would be happy to to sing or listen to some of the music that is featured in synagogues.

For the most part, singing and worshiping (the latter in my own fashion, which is what Unitarians do, after all) in a progressive Lutheran church has satisfied that need.  And not just my need as a singer, but also my need as a person who cares about social justice, social outreach, and the life of the mind.

Yesterday, however, I heard a sermon that I found deeply offensive, something that has never happened to me at that church before.  Usually it's simply a question of taking things with a grain of salt, staying in my seat during the procession toward communion (I have now laughingly  named myself the "Shabbas Goy" of the choir because when other people are communing, I sing the communion hymn - sometimes it has been as a solo!!), and not speaking prayers beginning with the words "I believe" if, in fact, I don't.  (If I am speaking, I am BabyD a private person.  If I am singing, I am a church singer doing a job, even if it's  one I don't get paid for.)

But getting back to yesterday's sermon.  The woman preaching was one of the seminarians, but she is not young.  I would guess late 40s early 50s and ministering is obviously a second career for her.  I have always been very fond of her.  She was preaching on Baptism.  I have heard sermons on Baptism before and in fact several years ago the beloved drop dead gorgeous blonde pastor who has moved on to another career, gave a sermon on Baptism, after which I told her that I loved coming to that church but that I did not want to be Baptised because my mother was Jewish and she said that was perfectly OK.

The woman preaching yesterday, however, obviously had another opinion.  She did not just say that Baptism gives you membership in the Body of Christ (something I am very certain I do not belong to), but that Baptism is what makes you a child of God.  I found that outrageous.  I am a child of God (as is everyone) and to be that you do not need to belong to any particular religious group or adhere to their specific doctrines.

But worst of all was how she ended the sermon.  She said "If there's anyone here who is not Baptised, come make an appointment to see me now!"

I really feel that this overstepped a line.  That is the sort of thing that you hear in right-wing fundamentalist churches, not a Lutheran church on the Upper West Side that is a magnet for classical musicians as well as Lutherans.

So when I hear this sort of thing I am reminded of why I call myself a Unitarian.  But not a "UU". I'm still very much a "churchlady" (and yes, I love wearing "Sunday best" to services), just one with a healthy twenty-first century skepticism. But with a love of high art, a lot of which was inspired by Christianity, but exists for the aesthetic appreciation of all.

Ending the Year on a High Note

Well, a powerhouse high G at any event.  (Or maybe this could mean the C sharp that I have been singing consistently for the first time in my life.)

My Sunday solo "O Magnum Mysterium" went really well.  It was the first time in years that I have sung a "big" piece in church.  This new Director of Music has much more eclectic tastes in singing and in fact when we rehearsed the piece I made a joke to the effect that the choir director (who is still the choir director but who no longer schedules solos) would have shot me through the head if he had heard me blast the windows out with the climactic top G, and the new Director said that no, he considered that sort of sound appropriate for a solo if it was marked forte.  (He also said once that even in choral singing, if the note is above the staff, sopranos have a "free pass" to sing as loud as we need to to make the note sound good.)

Best of all was that when I sang that piece yesterday I got a lot of compliments including someone telling me it was "awesome".

Maybe I will try "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" again near Easter?  I hadn't planned to sing at all in April because that's when I will be rehearsing Carmen, but I might be able to squeeze it in right after Easter if that is not a choir Sunday.  Or I may get to sing another solo bit on Good Friday.  And if not I can sing at the noon service the way I did last year.  With all the freedom I've been given maybe I can try "Liber Scriptus".

So now it's back to the "Seguidilla".  My upper register didn't sound all that great in today's practice, on the other hand I did a lot of singing Christmas Eve (just choral singing and caroling), and then this solo yesterday.

Wednesday I have a lesson.

This year I have not made New Year's resolutions.  It seems that usually at some point in the year (usually between July - my birthday month - and September, which feels like the New Year to me) something big happens that leads me to reevaluate where I'm going and what I need to do differently.  This year it was the upset over my birthday.  Two years ago it was upset over all the snark in the blogosphere over my singing the "Habanera" in the bookstore.

Overall this has been a good year for me.  I have been singing better and better, achieving a level of technical proficiency that has surprised me.  I have discovered I like helping children with their homework.  I was mentioned in an article in Classical Singer.  Actually in two articles if you include the anonymous mention of my singing in the bookstore, which wasn't a putdown, really. And hey!  It was enough of a "thing" to keep being mentioned over and over.  So chutzpah pays.  Howevermuch talent, ability, or credentials you do or don't have.

Aria da Capo?

A few days ago, I ran into a man who used to sing in the choir at my old UU church.  The minister with whom I had so much discord has been gone for some time  I had run into this man before, and he had invited me to come back and "see what was going on" but I declined.  Theologically I still consider myself a Unitarian, but they don't know how to "do" theater the way the high church Protestants do.  That's it in a nutshell.  And when it comes to social justice organizing, the Lutheran church does as much, if not more, than my old UU church, so all bases are covered.  So, OK, I hear things I know are not "true", but hey! myths and fairy tales are lovely, and I am careful what I say and do.  I will sing anything, I will wear anything.  I don't take communion and don't speak prayers that begin with the words "I believe" because hey!  that's not "generic mezzo-soprano church soloist" singing, that's me Babydramatic with her Jewish maternal relatives behind her saying, "I believe".  So I pass on that.  But all in all, the Lutheran church offers a better package.

This time, however, when I ran into my friend, he said that the church had gotten rid of the choir (who was singing Beatle songs when last heard from) and used "paid guest soloists".  He said they even had classical music from time to time.  So, well, yes!!! I would love to sing there as a guest if I got paid.  I certainly sound as good as a lot of paid soloists, I just have given up trying to become a paid section leader somewhere because I don't sightread and can't seem to be bothered learning.

So I sent in a resume.

We will see.

I have no idea if The Mentor is still going there.  I think he spends most of his time traveling teaching dance, now mostly to (female) burlesque dancers. I have totally gotten over my lust for him and my fear of him.  I am grateful that he got me to sing.  If I hadn't been spellbound by singing Dalila leaning against his powerful wiry body, staring into his eyes as if we were about to float off somewhere for a tryst, I wouldn't be doing all the things I am doing today.  So every single tear, even the afternoon he frightened and humiliated me so much that I wanted to jump out his window, was worth it.

I know I won't be thrown if he is there.  The last time our paths crossed was in 2010 when I sang an aria from Gounod's Sappho and we had a nice "workmanlike" conversation about vocal technique.

I still would love to figure him out, though.  He is not like any gay (or straight) man I have ever met.  He is obsessed with women (all his gigs seem to involve him in a gaggle of them and all the pictures he posts show him with one or more females ranging in age from 4 to 94, but never show him with a man) but does not sleep with them.  He just gets his jollies from making us think he wants to.  Here's his latest Facebook "wall" page.  I in fact did post some full length pictures of him a while back (he's enough of a public figure that I don't feel I owe him anonymity) but here's the latest one.  I can see that it was cropped from something full length, that shows people's faces.  But what can one make of the fact that at the very center of the cropped wall picture is - his crotch!!

In other news, when I was tutoring one of the little girls on Monday, she said she wanted me to sing "Silent Night" (she has heard me sing at the Spanish service), so I sang it a capella without warming up, and she recorded it on her phone!!  She said she wants to "copy" my voice.  I told her if she likes to sing she should join the Spanish choir, that they are always looking for people.  So that's nice.

Next up is "O Magnum Mysterium".

By the Seat of My Pants

Although I was wearing this lovely skirt.

To start off, when I got to the recording session, it turned out I was going to have to sing the piece once full voice, and a second time "like a lullaby".  I was a bit thrown, because I had not practiced singing the piece like a lullaby.  Miraculously, I was able to carry it off by singing pianissimo, something I would never have been able to do in that range even a year ago.

The other problem was that the engineer decided it would work better if he recorded the piano accompaniment separately, and then had me sing using it as a soundtrack.  This was challenging also, as I had not rehearsed that way, and had relied on the accompanist to cover for me if I came in late or early.

There is one spot that I have trouble with over and over (I wouldn't if I could drill it at home with an accompaniment) and so of course the fourth time I sang the A section with the prerecorded accompaniment (I had already recorded it twice for the regular version and once for the pianissimo version) I got off at that spot, and because the prerecorded accompaniment just galloped ahead without me, I asked to stop, just assuming that the engineer could either erase it and let me start again (at the beginning of the A section) or just splice in the first pianissimo version of the A section (because in Bach you don't ornament the reprise, so it would have been perfectly usable).  Anyhow, I am not sure what the problem was, but he said he was not sure he could erase and splice (I was reassured that was his problem not mine; the accompanist said he had never recorded a 6 minute aria without splicing somewhere).  So we left it that he would try to do this at his computer and if he couldn't, I could come to his studio some time after New Year and sing against the prerecorded accompaniment (and I would have it at home to rehearse with also).

I am rather surprised I have not heard from him (he thought the filmmaker would call or email him to discuss how things went), but maybe no news is good news.

I did write to the filmmaker the next day to thank her for asking me to sing.  Apparently she is going to enter the film in the Cannes festival in March, so this is quite an ambitious project.  I am not regretful that I didn't ask to be paid, though, because she is putting it together on a shoestring.  She will pay the accompanist, and that will suffice.

She wrote back to me and said that she had had a few screenings of parts of the film in Paris with live music (a choir is singing something in the film as well).  So I told her if she shows the film here, anywhere between DC, New York, and Boston, that I can get to on Amtrak, I will be happy to sing (with the prerecorded accompaniment, obviously). I suppose in that case I will ask her to pay for my transportation out of the film budget.  It will mean an opportunity to go somewhere which I have so few of (really none).

So now what's up next is "O Magnum Mysterium". I will be singing that in church on December 27.  I am quite amazed at how well I can sing all those high climaxes.  I can keep my mouth small and sort of drink them in backwards, without a lot of tension and push, which is a whole new experience for me.  I got my first taste of it when I worked on the Amneris/Radames duet and was able to easily wail out those B flats if I imagined myself going backwards on a roller coaster.

Of course there is always an underlying sadness that all this is too little too late.  I so want to cut and run with this and do nothing else and be young enough that it matters to the world out there, and that I can throw myself into the world out there because I don't have to take care of other people.  Really just one other person.  But I could never ever live with myself if I walked away from loving her and caring for her.  It just would be nice to have a peer relationship with someone like all those singers who are married to each other or to other musicians or, even better, to "mentor" figures like conductors and producers, and who have a "team" in a flurry around them fussing with every aspect of their lives.

The Show (or the Rehearsal) Must Go On, and It Did

I had one of the most grueling 24 hour periods from Sunday at 5 pm to the following Monday.  I had to take my partner to an urgent care facility because she was semi-comatose from not having eaten, and had a rapid heartbeat and a lot of mental confusion.  I took her there because she wouldn't go to the ER.  Of course the doctor at the urgent care facility called an ambulance and she went to the ER.  Because she had no real diagnosis (all test results were normal other than her rapid heartbeat, which she often has because she has a-fib) she didn't get admitted until 3 am, and even then was admitted to the observation floor.  I finally went home (it has probably been over 40 years since I have been out that late trying to get a cab - fortunately one of the nurses went out and got one for me as she is used to being out at that hour) but only slept for four hours.

Then it was up, go to her house, feed her cat, and back to the hospital.  I stayed there all day and then went home with her and saw that she had dinner.  After several meals, she seemed to be better.  Then I went home and slept for 10 hours.  The good news is that because she was an inpatient, Medicare will pay for her to get home care for several weeks, certainly more often than the once a week she is getting it now.

Yesterday morning I had my rehearsal for the recording and I sang well, which amazed me because when I warmed up at home I could feel how tired I was.  Not the voice itself, but my diaphragm and the whole infrastructure.  But singing made me feel better and really the only problems I had were with entrances, not anything vocal.  And the accompanist helped me with those.

Some bittersweet news was I heard from him that Little Miss (he knows her from the conservatory where he works) has landed a leading role in another one of the no-pay opera groups that rejected me.  So she is on the way to being launched.  Of course I am happy for her.  I want her to succeed, as so few do.  On the other hand I would be being disingenuous if I didn't admit that I am much happier now that she is off my turf.  There is really only one other trained singer in the soprano section who is there regularly and she does not have the level of confidence or (apparent) charisma that Little Miss has; for example she was genuinely happy that I was going to be singing the top soprano part in the Handel and that she wouldn't be singing it alone.  And she is also busy, so for example at the last rehearsal I was, in essence, the only person singing the soprano part in the Mendelssohn, which I am pretty secure with now, although it is still hard for me to sing as softly as required up in that range (and "choir softly" entails much much less volume than "aria pianissimo"!!)

Lastly, I regrettably will not be able to attend any funeral services for my neighbor.  They are all in Queens today and tomorrow.  I am sure she will forgive me.  When the Tenants Association Secretary sent an email about her passing, she gave her a lovely tribute, referring to what an honor it was to hear this woman "practicing her craft".  Lani (the singer who died) used to say things like that to me, although very few of my other neighbors have.  I wonder if that's the sort of tribute I will get when I die?  (I can't believe I am worrying about this!!)