contemplating the next hike

No significant news here, it's just another day - the schedule right now is very light, and I am still "on hold" re. St. Stephen as I wait for my new pastor's response...

D. had a great analogy - that while I should expect a period of "post partum depression" after scaling a great height, I should not forget that there is indeed another mountain to climb. I'm not yet ready to venture into the next foothills, but I am forcing myself to face them and 'size them up' - meanwhile, organizing the parts of my life I've had to ignore over the past couple months.

There is a satisfaction to doing these things (housework, answering messages, allowing my body to recover from the past few weeks' barrage of junk food/caffeine/cortisol)....even if there is a bit of lingering sadness, and (probably unfounded) worry that I will never do another meaningful bit of singing again.

In the larger picture, I have gone from acceptance, to annoyed acceptance, to resentment, about the way my life is structured and dictated - while the choice to pursue a solo career is mine, I am so frustrated at the reality of still having to work several jobs to make it work. It makes me angry to still feel controlled by outside forces...what was okay at 22 does not feel okay at 32.

I have this notion - and from what I observe in other singers I have met and admired, it's true - that if I could only break through to the regional level, there would be a calm to my/our everyday existence in that I wouldn't have to spread myself so thinly. Perhaps 4 jobs could become 2 that I really enjoy - hence, freedom.

How do I get there? I have no map, no compass - only snapshots of other hikers and the direction in which they seem to be heading.

P.S. Adding today's running run-in: during my jog, saw a lady who smiled and gave me a thumbs-up, and I took out my iPod only in time to hear that whatever encouraging comment she made ended with "forward". I was sorry I'd missed the rest of what she said, until I realized that "forward" was probably the most important word for me to hear.

post-Lucia blues...and an anniversary

It is a very odd thing I do, in that I consistently choose this life of extreme ups and downs. I knew this crash was coming, I started to feel its inevitability a little while ago, even in the midst of the excitement.

It's not that I, nor my physical body, miss the worry and stress. And it's not that I feel a sense of regret in any way.

I miss knowing that I have this big project in front of me that lots of people are somehow aware of and buzzing about. That's what it is - the buzz.

I already have offers for other local performances, and there is a different kind of excitement in that, because I am also looking forward to living life, for the first time, on my own terms. Letting the career "come to me" a bit, while I seek out more balance.

But I can't deny that I am sad to put the Lucia score back on the shelf, to finally address the pile of keepsakes and memories of it and decide what goes in the scrapbook, what needs to go. That's usually the defining "this experience is now over" moment for me. And within the next few weeks, there will be perhaps a straggling review that pops up, and photos and a DVD from the company - which I will receive with a clearer and more objective mind.

Career-wise (if I can just "be at the office" for a moment), I hope to keep the momentum going somehow, and every time I get an idea about how to do so, I act on it immediately. It's all I can do. Otherwise, I have to trust in word-of-mouth. There were connections made that may not come to fruition or even make sense for a while, and that's okay - I just need to stay on the radar.

I realize that today marks the 11-month anniversary of this blog, and my birthday will be here soon. With one month to go of this Tunnel year, I can honestly say that while I'm no closer to knowing what's on the other side of it, I know without any doubt that it's very, very good. Better than anything I could have come up with. And I am learning to accept that I'm in it. This, I believe, is spiritual progress.

floating

It's an odd thing, this 'limbo' existence. Of all my imaginings about Lucia, reality-based and otherwise, I never really thought about the during part. The being-in-the-middle.

These days "off" are so surreal.... life continues to go on around me. A tragic death has occurred at St. Stephen, a family I know well. Obama and oil spills and immigration and gay marriage is being discussed - there are places in the world that do not care about Lucia di Lammermoor.

I know and understand all this, but in spite of my efforts to feel normal for two days straight, I walk around like a zombie, numb.

Doing some cooking today, as therapy. Emails still float around, unanswered. There are hints of changes in the air, but nothing is certain. It's looking like a very different audition season for me - in a good way. But again, no certainty to be found, anywhere - except in a recipe.

releases

Yoga led to a good cry. It's amazing how often that happens.

One can only withstand so much 'noise'.

Off to see a Will Farrell movie..... many of you who know me well will recognize this as a sign of desperate times.....

the inevitable first reviews

I'd say, in the end, all we can do is our best. While I'm onstage, it's like being a computer that only I understand, with all programs running at once. There are some glitches, and one can only control so much.

I gave with truth and commitment, and so far no critic has stated otherwise. Not everyone will love me. Though I am getting tired of the buildup - the "let's see what this local unknown can do" kind of pressure. To paraphrase Legally Blonde: what are they expecting - three tits?

http://www.mercurynews.com/california/ci_15711837

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/08/08/DDUP1ER020.DTL

Opening Night

I can only repeat this prayer:

Be open to every moment, accept it as it is.

Remember my back.

Remember my breathing.

Let this person be truly alive, truly real.

Just stay on that small and electric pitch - the oboe, letting her spirit bubble forth from it.

I am not responsible for the whole world, just myself.

Thank God.

Life is good.

Amen.

a prayer

Tonight is our final dress, a Preview with an audience for the first time.

My post-yoga prayer finds me at the Oakville Monastery, probably a version I've created in my head based on the real thing. It's green, quiet, the vineyards sway in the breeze.

Be open to every moment, accept it as it is. Remember my back. Remember my breathing. Let this person be truly alive, truly real. Just stay on that small and electric pitch, letting her spirit bubble forth from it. I am not responsible for the whole world, just myself. Thank God. Life is good. Amen.

a blissful schizophrenia

An acting teacher talked about the Artist's relationship to The Watcher.

The Watcher is that part of us that critiques us from without, the one who makes us self-conscious, the one who says "don't" and "be careful".

The Watcher can be helpful in some cases, deathly in others.

I find myself living as The Watcher these days, while the Artist just takes over and does her thing when it's time to do so - and surprises The Watcher with her audacity, her strength, her ability to stay focused, her enjoyment. It's a strange out-of-body existence.

Articles keep popping up over the internet about the Artist, and she is due to call a public radio station for a live interview tonight. Then it's a piano tech, immersing herself in Lucia once again - chipping away at walls, enjoying those that have already fallen down.

The Watcher tries to calm the hysteria by convincing herself that no one outside of the Bay Area cares about this - but the Artist seems to know better.

a constant state of "up"

Nothing new to report.... I am still on the tightrope, still not sleeping (lest a brilliant new thought comes to me and I miss it!!!!), still not tasting food, still not sure what to do with myself when I am not singing Lucia.

More than ever, I am desperately needing to connect with colleagues - if only not to feel so alone. There are glimmers of such promise.... I hope for more to come as tech week "magic" begins to develop.

I already begin to think of the Mean Reds that will befall me when this is all over. But that's not now.

Sitzprobe tonight - C. had to remind me that this is when the fun begins. I hope he's right.