moving goal posts

Okay, so the tunnel is feeling pretty dark today. I began in a good place yesterday - still recovering from the weekend's frenzy, but back into my workout routine and healthy eating habits. I even got myself organized, regarding the new piano teaching schedule and church stuff.

Then I did the good ol' drive into the city for a lesson with S. She had a crisis to deal with over in the administration wing, so the lesson started an hour late. She made up for it with a longer lesson, which was fabulously positive, productive, and encouraging. We talked audition rep and revised the current "plan". I drove home last night feeling READY for my midwest trip.

So why am I depressed? Two things have happened this week to deflate my enthusiasm:

1. After paying for a coaching with the OSB music director, spending hours listening to the recording and choosing takes, and then driving around the Bay Area to drop off and pick up a finalized mp3 to send to the other OSB guy - I finally emailed the track to him in Chicago. It was met with the least promising email I could have received: "Thank you. We will we looking at our list of finalists and notify all applicants of the results at the beginning of November."

Gone was the warmth and genuine interest evident in his earlier emails. I have faded back into the multitude of sopranos.

There is always the possibility that he was either in a hurry, or not at liberty to discuss the situation further with me - but I have too much experience with rejection. It comes in all shapes and sizes, and hurts in various degrees.

2. I have spent countless hours practicing and visualizing, spent lots of money on lessons and coachings - not to mention airfare/hotel/rental car, ruminated and meditated on the 'perfect' audition repertoire - and now my agent is having trouble getting in touch with Cleveland and Indianapolis to confirm my auditions. She says this is a common tactic to discourage West Coast singers, and that if we do not hear back from them, I may want to set a "deadline" for myself, by which I cancel the trip.

I can't BELIEVE it. All I have to go on right now is the process of setting a goal, and working toward it. If I can't even count on the goal, how will I know where to focus?

seeking my Happy Place

In a somewhat bleary-eyed state today, I recollect this weekend's events: two days away from email and phones, investing in quality time with my immediate family. As unbelievable as it sounds, I enjoy them. I know that not many people feel that way, and I feel blessed. My brothers are just good guys, and have picked good gals - no group of people can make me laugh the way they do....it's the kind of therapy everyone needs.

Saturday night and Sunday were St. Stephen-related events, Saturday night being a very beautiful Youth Mass that got two of my adolescent boy singers very enthused about what's possible in an effective liturgy. Building on what's working....

Sunday morning was tiring, but because both choirs combined for the first mass, I was able to (almost) ignore any negativity from the Adult Choir as the Junior Choirs elevated us all. I continue to have an issue with one male member who has developed an inappropriate attachment to me (and misinterprets it as "devotion to the choir", perhaps even to himself) - still figuring out how to deal with that situation.

Tried not to obsess about it during the 4-hour drive to Paso Robles. The gig was unusually difficult, given my exhaustion, the 110-degree heat, a snobby and uptight audience, no place for solitude/down-time, and - this was my own doing - my choice to include a brand-new aria on the program, in keeping with my own goals. This heightened my stress, especially since it opened the concert - but if I can learn from yesterday's version of it, it will have been a good idea. I now know where to take it next: B's soul-baring and intensive acting studio.

My post-performance memory is always so emotion-laden, and somewhat dangerous;

If I sang well, connected to colleagues and the audience, and felt all good things coming back to me - I feel inspired onto the next thing, whatever it is - and this propels me to sing well again.

On a day like yesterday, when I was exhausted and distracted, and even my singing of arias that "always go well" felt like a steep uphill climb - it's difficult to put the negativity aside. My tendency is to start thinking, "I suck! And I'm going to sing this rep for Cleveland next month? What was I thinking?!"

I hope that fear subsides. Usually, a good practice session or lesson (after a good night's sleep) puts me back in my Happy Place again.

But that's all for tomorrow...today is dedicated to the To-Do list.

caught up in the trees

Today, I am overwhelmed before I begin. While I prefer to consolidate the many aspects of my life when I can (for instance, one day I'm just a Singer, while on another day I'm a Church Musician, etc) - today encompasses it all.....

An audition, followed by lunch with my very narrow and difficult grandmother, followed by the onslaught that is a full day of church choir rehearsals, beginning with the youngest kids at 3pm and ending with the adults at 9pm. I am pretty sure I'm giving a voice lesson somewhere in there, too.

Not to complain - I'd rather be employed, than otherwise. It's just difficult to see the forest, much less my dreams beyond the forest, today.

trying on swimsuits

Reviewing the recording I made of yesterday's coaching. The only thing as painful as listening to myself sing (and talk! ugh) is trying on bathing suits under florescent lighting.

Still, I rather enjoy the aspect of logging numbers, and creating tracks and a spreadsheet for a recording engineer. It gives me the sense of being in control of something.

Today I rehearse for a gig that I agreed to do sheerly for the income. Does this make me a whore?

back on the horse

After a couple of days that found me falling into old patterns, I had a better one today. The biggest boost was a very productive and positive lesson with S. (before which I, thankfully, remembered how crucial it is for me to say a very specific and grounding prayer - and did so before leaving the car).

It also helped to have my computer fixed once again, so all my physical surroundings and technological trappings are set to rights again.

The next goal on the horizon: an audition trip to Cleveland and Indianapolis next month. These are the result of insistence on my part, and some ballsy phone calls asking for help. Remembering that gives me courage to see it all through.

My courtship with Opera Santa Barbara continues...I am in consideration, but still needing to wear perfume on our dates (I should stop before this analogy gets out of hand). Tomorrow I "coach" with their music director (it's really another audition, like everything is), repertoire they have in mind for me, before recording it and sending it to her colleague in Chicago - the wooing continues.

More important than any of the above, I will be a much nicer person for C. to be around this evening. This is progress, too.

the Sunday cluster****

Sundays are rough for me. My church job is the classically banal, artist's-soul-sucking DAY JOB.

It is more complex than it appears, mostly because I am so sensitive to the energy I receive from others, and because relationships of all types are VERY important to me.

I'm the choir director, and Sunday morning cantor. Thursday is my all-day choir rehearsal fest (as I often say to C.: the best thing about Thursday night? It's the farthest away from the following Thursday that you can get).

The children's choirs are easier, because kids are easier; easier in the sense that our interactions are straightforward, honest, simple, and free of ulterior motive or personal agenda. They are there to sing, and I am too. They learn as they go along, and so do I. They have open faces and open hearts. No apologies needed.

Then there are the adults. On the surface, they are kind and polite. They accept me. They call me "honey". But adults have deep-seated expectations, which are much more pronounced when it comes to worship. Change, in general, is bad in their eyes. And the consequent negativity takes on different dimensions, depending on the timing and extremity of any given change. Small changes, such as switching their chairs around or forgetting to hole punch their music, gives rise to general grumbling - which I would rate as a 1 or 2 (on a low-high 1-10 Negativity Scale). Introducing new songs or musical styles raises it to about 3 or 4. A change in choir directors, 10.

What I like about 10, is that at least there's some dialogue - even fighting, some display of passion - and often, honesty that comes a bit closer to that which comes naturally to children. Then I know how to engage - that is a plane on which I can operate.

But these particular choristers seem happiest when they are at 2 or 3. Just irritated enough to quietly complain amongst themselves before settling into a state of utter lethargy. Which leaves me to stand on my head and over-exert, in a desperate attempt to feel something on Sunday morning. Because I admit it, though I am in a ministry role there, I sometimes hope to be fed during the liturgy, too.

The whole thing has me rather depressed by the end of Sunday's masses.

I cannot tell you the many versions I have of the following fantasy: that some unbelievably wonderful singing opportunity comes my way, which not only A. poses a scheduling conflict so great that it will be physically impossible for me to continue working as a church choir director, but also B. pays enough that I don't have to worry about quitting the job.

The next part of my fantasy is the big "March In", ala George Costanza...followed by the ceremonial handing over of the church keys (and hole punch).

Hope springs eternal.....

moving forward

We are, collectively as humans, in a tunnel. Can you feel it?

Here I am, just turning 32 this weekend. Somehow, it feels more significant than the big "3-0" did.

In a hotel room this morning, packing up after a lovely birthday night away (courtesy of the World's Greatest Husband, C.), I happened upon a documentary ("The Last Truck") about the workers who lost their jobs when the GM plant in Dayton, Ohio shut down in December 2008.

An employee who had worked many of the plant's operating 27 years was asked, "what will you do now?" She tearfully gazed away from the camera and whispered, "I don't know."

I have much in common with this person. You see, I am an opera singer.

(If you have decided to continue reading this)
I have chosen an unusual profession which, at worst - in the scheme of things, is probably useless on a practical level, nothing like putting someone's car together.
But it is, like all art, still the "Necessary Angel" (we love you, Wallace Stevens).
At its best, opera is a vehicle by which those who share the human experience might vicariously purge the emotions we cannot express (either because they're taboo, or cause us discomfort, to do so).

Not to wax "the misunderstood artist", but I did not choose opera (as opposed to musical theater, pop, or jazz). My voice did. And my voice resides at my core, so I continue to obey.

When I think about my own career timeline, I have been singing for about 10 years - i.e. I have been getting opportunities to perform, solo, in the context of an opera production or classical music concert for audiences since I was 22.
During that time, I developed my skills and honed my singing and acting talents. I shunned the idea of a Masters, because A. I hate school (I don't want to talk about singing, I want to sing), and B. I am rebellious at heart and hate the idea of following a template.
So I learned "on the job". With each accomplishment, my standards and goals adapted.
At first I was happy just to sing anything, anywhere, whether I got paid or not. Then, practicality and self-respect demanded that I narrow my "yesses" to opportunities that paid. Over the years, the gigs have gotten a little more "legitimate", albeit local to where I live - some pay more than others, and some are more fulfilling than others (these two aspects don't always go hand-in-hand, oddly enough).

Something shifted in me this year. I can't say it was a sudden thing, or triggered by any one identifiable event/person, etc.... it has felt like an inner renaissance, a renewal that has been lying dormant within me until now.

Not sure where it was leading, I began to make some changes, starting with the physical. I went off all prescription medications, determined to find better mind-body balance without the invasion of synthetic chemicals.
I shed weight. I began eating and exercising in a spirit of mindfulness.
I began to observe the areas of my life where I tend to let fear win, and began to make a conscious and absolute effort to be brave.
I began to talk more lovingly to myself.

And as I traveled through these changes, it became so clear to me that the singing opportunities that were on my calendar at the time, no longer fit.

My goals and standards are again shifting. Pragmatically, I will head into this audition season with all the "gear": the website, the audition clothes, the appropriate audition repertoire - I will network and scour the internet and snatch and grab every opportunity that hints at a step up. And I will work at the balance required to leave all of that at the door, so that during a 5-minute audition, I can open my being and be the artist I work to be in my practice at home, and in my teachers' studios.

But the big question will loom: How will I define myself within a business (opera) whose rules of engagement, politics, and definition of success, are so solidly etched, so unchangeable? How does my life, the person God created me to be, fit into that machine? And perhaps a followup to that question is, MUST I fit into it?

But like the woman in the documentary, "I don't know."

This is a tunnel. A dark one.

Have you noticed that we are ALL there? Have you noticed that everyone you talk to is there? I mean, sure. The economy is bad, people are losing jobs and homes - the things that give us an outward sense of security and continuity. But is that really the cause? Or is it the other way around - a physical manifestation of an inner awakening that's been due in the collective unconscious? Chicken, egg...
From where I sit, I see two options: 1. back out of the Tunnel and go back to that which we already know, and with which we are comfortable; or 2. stay faithful to the part of us that knows we must keep moving forward, with assurance that something really good, beautiful, enriching, and Right is at the end of it.

I will blog on this for a year, from age 32 to 33. I will post my Tunnel Travels, and I will not hide the times that I will want to back out - I will also not apologize for, nor shrink from, the glimpses of bright light that I see ahead.

Because I think that what will keep us all traveling forward, is the encouragement that comes when we realize we are not alone.