giving thanks

Well, after the morning's assessment of finances, auditions, communication, and the day's tasks and events - I now check in with myself....

What do I find? Many riches, for which to be grateful.

You know those moments during a long hike, when you stop, catch your breath, and look around? Here's to those moments.....

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

gathering time

I rediscovered something very important.

Yesterday was the kind of ridiculous marathon I run when trying to consolidate trips into SF, so it began with a very necessary stop-by with D., in preparation for my chorus audition (yes, I auditioned, as insurance), followed by a session with S., and ending with a very long, late night Otello performance.

While my session with S. was invigorating and helpful - since she, among the voices offering me guidance, is the one who is most immersed in the realities of the modern-day biz - the standout event was my chorus audition.

'Caro nome' begins on what D. calls my Note #9. It is the note that begins the area of my voice where all sense of physical feeling begins to leave as I descend through the passaggio - and if I don't have a good solid connection with Notes 1-8 (my vocal Identity), I never really feel very grounded within myself, no matter what happens during the rest of the performance.

Having said all that, I finally had the objectivity today to realize the difference between my Houston audition (yippeeee! I love to sing!), and the two auditions this week (what the f*** was that?) - the difference is that for the Houston one, I took 10 minutes to gather myself and check in with my Scale. For the other two, I let many distractions throw me off during those crucial 10 minutes beforehand, and then walked right in, midstream.

I'm so glad I figured out what went (minorly and minutely) wrong this week. I was beginning to feel depressed, and worried that I was going off my game.

Moral of the Story: take 10 minutes to gather, even if it's in a bathroom stall at Nola Studios.

Today's travels: it's amazing to go from St. Stephen, to D's house. To be in D's presence is to remember the Singer part of myself, the part that is an artist with something to say, the part who has no inhibitions, no taboos, no "that doesn't belong here"-isms. Also the part that never has to apologize for being beautiful, gifted, or "too much" of anything. It makes me realize how dramatically I dampen and tone myself down in order to be (nickname given by a friend) Church Girl.

Yet, Church Girl felt a strange isolation and sadness today, when I looked out at the 30 kids singing back to me, and the faces of the friends who treat me with great love and respect there - wondering if I will have to make a choice this year, wondering how much it might hurt and frighten everyone, including myself, to say goodbye to an old life.

Then the Boss broke the spell during the second mass, apparently trying to win an award for Most Distracted and Cranky Celebrant of the Year - and I was able to come back to my senses and remember that the Liturgy Committee will forget to light the correct candles, that the Boss will always give the most attention to the richest parishioners, that there is a limit to the spiritual awareness of old-timers who have sat in the same pew for 50 years, and that I, being young and still in expansion, don't belong there, and am not meant to stay.

I suppose this tells me that whether I do, or do not, get accepted into a year-long Young Artist Program for next year, there will be a bittersweet quality to it - and that either way, I hope I remember to grant myself time to accept what is, and focus on the positive.

adrift

This morning, I did spend my usual time checking for audition updates/news/notifications, a few emails back-and-forth with my manager, etc, sent some church emails, balanced the checkbook, etc.

But then, I just needed to hide. I spent the day indoors, and worked on my floors...listening to KDFC, letting the rain pelt the windows, letting HGO and opera chorus and piano students and travel anxiety just stay out there.

Sometimes, I just need to leave it out on the doorstep. I'll pick it all back up tomorrow, but for now, I'm enjoying the smell of homemade chili coming from the crock pot, and imagining for one second what it's like to be a normal person in the normal world.

suspended

Nothing new to report here. Just hanging out, suspended between the telephone poles - auditions that seem to mark the passing of time for me right now.

The decisions have been made about my NY trips, and now it's about working, getting through my daily lists, and vocally "checking in" here and there so that I'm ready for the next audition adventure.

I still have worries about finding subs for myself and making arrangements in order to be gone, both in December and next spring...that may not get resolved for a while, and I need to just accept that.

In the meantime, I have a couple weeks of "normal". I'm never sure how to function within "normal", so I try to keep some sort of structure for myself, and remember my goals - no matter how distant they may sometimes seem.

waiting for deliverance

Another Sunday morning survived. I sometimes wonder what kind of person succeeds as a church choir director - one must be the liturgical musician and all that goes with that, and on the other side of that coin, needs to accept his/her role as minister. This is the aspect that is sure to scare away mostany classically trained, professional musician - which is why church music tends to, for lack of a better word, suck.

I seem to be good at the second aspect, but it just bleeds me dry. It really affects me - every interaction leaves me feeling sapped of energy, even invaded. Every Sunday morning, I pray for the strength to endure all of the high-maintenance personalities that seem to demand a great deal of my attention every week, and driving home I often feel angry, irritated, and depressed.

The self I usually recognize as the opera singer is unrecognizable on Sunday. Even when I try to bring myself back to that reality - sometimes during the homily, or wherever I can steal a few moments away from people - by saying to myself, "remember Santa Barbara! remember Lucia!" - I still can't quite bring myself back.

And of course, there are some very real worries related to this church job now. In no particular order, they are:

1. The December audition trips to NY. Yes, that is plural - because I have a gig for Festival (which, for obvious reasons, I must do), and the auditions I've been given are spread over the course of 2 weeks - I will have to go to NY twice. What that means is:

• Fri, Dec 4 - fly to NY
• Sat, Dec 5 - auditions, then fly home
• Sun, Dec 6 - THE BIG MASS (opening of the new building, about which I couldn't care less - but the Boss wants all choirs, cast of thousands, etc.)
• Wed, Dec 9 - fly to NY again
• Dec 10-13 - auditions
• Mon, Dec 14 - fly home

I will have to apologize, cajole, plead, explain, etc. my way out of yet another Thursday night rehearsal & Sunday of masses - especially since it will be during Advent. I feel exhausted thinking about it.

2. OSB is of course, a wonderful opportunity. After 10 years of trying to get into ANY young artist program, it has finally happened. However, this one requires my presence in Santa Barbara for 5 weeks - and those 5 weeks begin during....wait for it...... HOLY WEEK. Holy SHIT is more like it. The Boss might have a heart attack when I tell him - which is why I will wait until after Dec 7.

While I'd love to quit completely, a 5-week engagement doesn't quite justify that yet - so I will have to agree to a solution that lets me return to my job when I come home. It probably means finding a long-term sub and forgoing my paycheck during the month of April. Logistically, after the awkwardness of telling the Boss, it will probably work fine - but I am so sensitive to conflict/strife of any kind, and am very anxious about that initial "sit down".

Beyond, that, of course, I hope I get into Houston's (Sept-May) Studio. How could I not hope for that? If I did, it would certainly justify quitting the church job. That's not the reason for wanting to get into the program, of course, and I dream about it happening every day.... but especially on Sunday - every time I have to water down my voice to sing "Table of Plenty" on a mic.....every time I get ogled by lonely old men who will say anything just to get an "oh, you poor thing" out of me....every time I get snapped at by our bitchy queen of a sacristan, or ignored by a Boss whom - irony of ironies, is too busy being a priest to have time for people.

Come on, Houston, come through and get me out of here!!!!

singer envy

As with every opera chorus performance, last night everything onstage went without a hitch - boringly and predictably so. It is a strange paradox to find myself in the midst of art, and to be totally unengaged, totally shut out of the creative process. As a chorister, our job is to react - but not in a way that draws attention. To sing well - but not so much as to stand out in any way.

I find myself wanting, more and more, to make a clear distinction between that which falls in the "day job" category, and that which falls under Singing. If I am not singing/performing/radiating with my full body and spirit in the capacity to which I am capable, I'd rather be doing something completely different. Which is why I prefer to teach piano, rather than voice. Why I'm looking into temping/clerical work. And why I detest the opera chorus.

All of its banality, negativity, and wasted time I could withstand in quiet resentment, retreating to a book, or knitting project, when not onstage. However, I constantly find myself being pulled into interaction with people who masquerade as my "friends" - but really, they are competitors watching my every move. Unfortunately, my recent successes have been "outed" amongst the chorus, and last night over the cheese-and-cracker table, I found myself oscillating between two evils: apologizing for my recent achievements, or admitting my excitement only to have it dampened by sarcasm and bitterness. When it became known that I'd been one of seven singers auditioning for Nic yesterday, the response wasn't "congratulations, how did it go?" - but rather, "how did you get that?"

One of these "friends" made sure to list all of the impressive auditions he has coming up, and also made sure to diminish the specialness of any auditions I have. He seemed to feel it necessary to make me aware that I'm not the only one beating a path to NY next month. Many, many other snide and sneaky comments were made - under the veil of "friendly banter" - to put me back in my place.

Oddly enough, while I'd expect this behavior from other sopranos, this is all coming from men. On reflection, perhaps this is how men behave with each other, and there is no harm meant. I do feel hurt and aggravated, all the same.

Among those 6-7 of us "upwardly mobile" singers whose dreams of a solo career haven't yet died:

We ALL sign up for the chorus re-audition in December. We ALL hope for reasons not to return.

It's time to break out my knitting projects and books, and to promise myself, as I finish the chorus season: do not engage.

tipping of the scale

What a whirlwind 48 hours it has been.

Monday, 5pm came and went, without a word from OSB. I fell into despair, of course. Also, complete defeat about my upcoming trip to LA. Still, I woke up early on Tuesday, reminding myself that regardless of my emotional state, this "Tunnel Year" is one of commitments: either I do the audition 100%, or not at all.

Half an hour before I was ready to leave, I received word that YES, WE WANT YOU. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh! :)

If I may step outside of myself to be an objective observer for a moment, what transpired was this:

Tuesday

- 10:35am

frantically changed all my written materials to reflect this new item, tried to breathe normally.

- 11:00am

called C. and my parents to share the good news, but still felt lonely and bursting at the seams - wanted to celebrate, but the scenery and schedule wasn't right for it.

- 12:00pm

stopped by D's for a pre-audition vocal/mental tuneup/checkin. Had major trouble focusing and getting vocally balanced.

- 3:00pm

flew to Burbank, was embraced into the home of my brother and his wife - very understanding, grounded, quiet, and mellow people. Started to feel my normal sense of self again. Slept well.

Wednesday

- 10:15am

sang for HGO. It went very, very well. I was completely present and engaged for every note, and let the sincerity of each aria's character motivate the drama. Let the composer take me on a journey.

- 12:00pm

lunch with my brother and sis-in-law. Reveled in the beauty of the moment, didn't check my phone once (totally unlike me).

Without judging, I simply notice: good news can throw me off-balance, just as bad news can. But I am proud of myself for having the ability to gather myself back to center - and hope to remember the elements that help me to do that.

one soprano's molehill is another's mountain

I just can't move. I know that at some point in the next 24 hours, I will need to line up everything for Wednesday's audition in LA. But the answer from OSB just has me frozen. I suppose there is a legitimate reason for stalling, in that my materials will need to read differently if I am lucky enough to be able to include OSB on them - still, I am so annoyed with myself for letting it be a big deal.

Mistake: I Googled one of OSB's former young artists, which led to an article about young artist programs in general, featuring herself. OSB was among her "lower level" YAPs before she got into a huge one and is now doing comprimario roles at A houses.

Again, a mistake. What was that I said about comparing ourselves to others? Can't seem to remember right now.

needing some gnome repellent

The funeral is most likely starting right now, and I'm not there.

I have a wonderfully kind and loving husband. I was very anxious about the trip, not only because of what had to be arranged for me to be gone, but I am still recovering from the flu and have more stress ahead of me this week (a flight to LA, and 2 auditions amongst teaching, church choirs, and opera chorus).

Wanting to be a supportive wife/buddy, I kept arguing that I should go. In the end, we let a rescheduled flight be the final "sign", and I acquiesced.

It's right.

In the meantime, I cannot believe how tense I am as I wait to hear from OSB. I am on edge, can't sit still, and as self-therapy my mind is obsessing over little things that don't matter....

It's not that OSB is The Answer. It's just that I have, on several occasions, been an "almost" for a few lower-level YAPs, but never chosen. I am so ready, so desperately ready, to get noticed, to get a break. In spite of how many fishing lines I have in the water, every bite has this gigantic - and disproportionate - pull.

I might as well just admit to myself: I want OSB to choose me, and I want Houston to choose me. It would mean I'm IN, on the radar - not to mention the-right-kind-of-busy from April 1 onward for a year - hence free to diminish my roles as piano teacher and choir director, free to just sing. I can't deny that my mind has played out all the wonderful ways in which my life would change - if I could just get a YES. I know that "His thoughts are not our thoughts, and His ways are not our ways", but just once, could they be one and the same?

The other admission is this: if Monday night rolls around and I learn that I didn't get the OSB position, I will be very sad - and as I board the plane for LA the self-doubting gnomes will say "if you can't get into this smaller program, what makes you think Houston is a possibility?"....

Is there any way I can otherwise occupy the gnomes, so that they don't find me?

healing

Last night I received the balm to a wound I didn't know I was nursing.... C. called me on his way home to say that he'd cancelled his evening meeting, because in all the stress surrounding his fmaily and the funeral arrangements, compounded by the stress of an unusually hectic week - he wanted to come home and make me his first priority "because I'm the one who matters most." Tears sprang to my eyes before I even realized it.

I don't care if it's psycho-somatic - my flu symptoms seem to have subsided overnight. I'm still not 100%, but am steadily making my way to it.

What's more: under pressure from folks who want me working as their accompanist for spring musicals and such, I emailed OSB to ask whether they'd made their decision yet, expecting the worst. I received a response as warm, promising, and enthusiastic as when we first started our "courtship" - I am still a finalist, and under consideration as an 'artist' in general - will have an answer (specifically, about the young artist program) by Monday.

And as a bonus - though not great, I was able to determine this morning that our financial worries are not as dire as I'd thought. As paychecks start coming in, and if I remain diligent and focused on our priorities and goals, we may climb out of the hole yet.

Just when I start feeling that all is darkness and despair, I am reminded that it's not. Today's word is balance.

treading water

C.'s grandmother died yesterday. How do I feel? Certainly not sad, just accepting of the facts. Lest I sound completely cold-hearted, I must explain that she was Irish Catholic (with all the stereotypes that suggests), crotchety, eccentric, hardened by many East Coast winters, and was often just plain mean to both of us. She was much more enjoyable as an idea, than in person.

The funeral is this weekend, so off we go. Today I am running down the list of arrangements to be made so that I can be absent for a weekend. I am rather relieved to only have to cancel/reschedule piano lessons and church stuff, as opposed to a singing-related event. The opera chorus schedule remains a persistent pain in the ass, but the paychecks are necessary.

The priority right now is arranging life around next week's audition. I told a 'white lie', using the funeral trip as an excuse to be at home Monday night to prepare for that.

I'm so used to revolving my life around auditions....sometimes I wonder what it will be like when that's no longer my M.O.

I just read an article about the Met debut of a soprano I heard long ago at Jarvis, with whom I had a brief encounter - she being the older, wiser, "cool" kid who was focused and headed to NY, I the very green and hopeful high school graduate who'd been told I have the Gift. Ten years older than I, here she is at the top. The review wasn't great, and instead of feeling any sort of jealousy, I just feel sorry for her being under so much pressure. I cannot imagine what that's like.

Then again, it's all relative. We enter the track at our own pace, in our own lane, and that particular lane has its own pressures and promises. It does no good for me to keep glancing at the runners next to me - their stories are their own, and while I may learn helpful tips from them, comparisons are totally useless.

Still........ on a low day, I'll browse websites of singers who are "more successful" than I, and the dreaded "should haves" and "would haves" return. Always a mistake.

I must remember that physically, my hormones are amok and I am recovering from illness - so while I may have to work harder to remain positive today, I must not give up the fight.

illness is a vocal mirror

The coach issue was resolved peacefully, thanks to the advice (and I suspect, mediation) of D.

Determined to just be DONE with this illness, I had a cocktail of caffeine, mucinex, tylenol and sudafed, and exercised as normal. It felt pretty good. Not great, but I think that had more to do with having been forced to skip a whole week.

Similarly, singing feels okay, not great. I warmed up very gingerly, trying to remember that I am reduced to singing pitches and vowels with mindful technique only. I sang through my HGO arias (except for 'Glitter' - no way do I have the strength for that) on vowels only. It's amazing to just observe where my spirit wants to plunge in and "help" a phrase, old habits of 'adding sauce' to what the composer has already provided, trying to infuse it with emotional content - but only adding 'noise' and compromising my technique. Still, singing only the vowels greatly helped to reduce my approach to just the facts.

In my present state, the sinus cavities and throat are still very swollen, and one mindless pitch, one variant from what is right, is really obvious.

I would be a more disciplined singer if I were always sick. It keeps me honest.