Deep Breath

Sometimes it feels like I will never know how to sing.

I’m having an unusually difficult singing day today, and for no apparent reason. But maybe it’s a good day to try to write it out, to see if I can get to the heart of things...

This rep shift... whooboy!! There is nothing worse for a singer’s development than for someone to tell you “Wow, your voice is really getting big!” or “You voice is so much richer than it used to be!” The power of suggestion is very strong, and no matter how present you are in your singing, it is way too easy to start singing bigger and darker and richer the more people tell you that they hear those things. Make sense?

So I’ve added new arias - and new roles - this year, and I’ve been finding myself getting repeatedly tied up in knots. I can sing my new pieces just fine, but then when I pull out a Debussy song for the December recital or an older “lighter” aria, I find that I have zero nuance. No control, no float. Like my voice is a Mac truck. Not. Fun. And more than not fun, very frustrating and discouraging! Things I am not used to feeling when I sing...

Singing has always been easy for me. Maybe not cool to say that, but it’s true. I’ve had good teachers who haven’t gotten in the way of my voice’s natural development, and my reliance on text and acting has always lead me right. But now I’m getting in my way... I’m trying to sing with a voice that is not (yet) my own.

Yes, my voice IS bigger and warmer and all those things people are hearing, but it is still my bright, clear, pliant instrument. That hasn’t gone away. It’s not as if I woke up one morning a year ago and had an entirely new instrument! It’s just growing up, maturing. (Add “fine wine” metaphor here...) If I let go of my easy high notes or flexible tone in sacrifice to this bigger, warmer voice, I will lose. Lose facets of my voice, lose years of longevity, lose confidence. This is not a sacrifice I am willing to make.

So... how do I proceed?

I get back to regular voice lessons. I haven’t had one in about a year and a half, and self-diagnosing is always a bad idea, whether it’s looking up “abdominal pain” on the internet at 2am or trying to move into a new Fach. I’m going to take some lessons with a soprano; all of my post-undergrad teachers have been men or mezzos, two summers with Phyllis Curtain notwithstanding. I’m excited about this change, and curious to see what it will be like to get back into “the shop.”

In my practicing, I keep it light but keep it connected. Avoid pushing. If I tire easily, something is not lined up correctly, so stop and reassess. Start my sessions with warmups and familiar pieces in order to remind my voice how it works. Then sing the new stuff with that same voice. If I jump into the deep end, I’ll only be fighting my resonance and placement, rather than working with it.

I stay aware of my body. Don’t look down (deep in concentration) when starting a phrase; keep the face lifted. Don’t curve the shoulders (another “thinking, working” posture); let the torso be buoyant. Practice in front of a mirror in order to keep those damn concentration wrinkles OFF of my forehead!!

In my performance, I just do what I do. If I bring this kind of mental activity onto the stage with me, I won’t be able to be in the moment with the music or my colleagues or the audience. I’m not falling apart; I can still sing. In those moments of performance, I need to just trust that and enjoy doing what I do. (Also, I’m not singing Marguerite tomorrow; I can sing 1st Alms Collector very well right now!)

Ok, I feel better. I can do this. I can work through this transition. It’s scary to feel like I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to remember that I’m the one in control here. Slow and steady and all those good things... and deep breaths.

Baby steps

I’ve got a lot of free time these days. A lot. Now that Nozze is up and running, and we haven’t yet started Angelica, my days are pretty much free until the end of the month. And nothing prevents me from getting work done like free time!

I don’t know what it is, but I sure am productive when I am forced to structure my work time around rehearsals and appointments and such. Then, when my days free up and I think “I’ve got plenty of time to work on my projects!” I don’t get a thing done! Please tell me I’m not the only one...

Today I was determined not to get to 6pm and realize I’d accomplished nothing with my day except a trip to the gym and several laps around my internet entertainment course. In the past, I’ve started the day with a general statement like “Today I’m going to work on my recital program.” And, sure enough, I don’t crack a score or research a single song.

(Maybe it’s the naming of broad goals that freaks me out. A few weeks ago, when I told B that I wanted to lose five pounds in the next three weeks, I promptly stopped going to the gym. Not helpful, Bird! Once I forgot about the weight goal, once I was only thinking about getting exercise cuz I feel better when I do, I was back at the gym, enjoying my workouts. What does it mean?!)

So this morning tried a different approach and set small goals for my day:
*work for (at least) 30 minutes on Hillula, getting reacquainted with the score
*work for (at least) an hour on programming rep for the Astronomy recital
*work for (at least) 30 minutes on arias

Here is it, 6:00, and I’ve accomplished 2 out of 3! (I’ll get to those arias before dinner, though, I’m sure of it.) And it wasn’t drudgery, either; I spent more than the allotted time on each task. I love my work, and I’m always puzzled why I don’t jump out of bed ready to hit the books. Whatever the reason, I seem to have discovered something today about how to address my free time, and I’m excited to observe the results!

Head Games

It’s been a rough couple of days, career-wise, and I can’t really get into it here without lots of thinly-veiled references. There are some important ideas to try and get across, though, so I’m going to try my best.

I sang an audition yesterday for someone I sang for recently in a different forum, and while the first instance was far from a bomb, it, um, wasn’t terribly well-received. I was nervous today in a way I haven’t been in a while, the butterflies in my stomach almost making me nauseous. For a brief moment, I considered “calling in sick.” How was I going to redeem myself? What if I didn’t?

I’ve been learning - or trying to learn - a lesson recently: not everyone is going to love what I do. Art is subjective, people have deeply held ideas of what is “right,” blah blah blah... I know all those things, but it is still unsettling to hear that someone really disapproved of the way I sang something. And then to have to put myself out there for their judgement again? Not an easy day at the office.

So, I steeled myself as best I could, made sure I looked fabulous, and armed myself with standard arias. I thought about my interpretations, how I wanted to present these arias that EVERY soprano sings. Should I scale myself back, give a more vanilla interpretation? Try to guess how they think the characters should be presented? No way. I’m an acting singer. Anything less than my full interpretation of a character, an aria, is not really acceptable to me. I would go into this audition and show them that in addition to the somewhat unorthodox and slightly unpolished (and very tired...) singer they heard before, I am also a bit of a purist. I would rely on good singing and musicianship to show my stuff. And if they still didn’t like it? Well, then there wouldn’t be much more to worry about.

I got there a bit late, and they were running early, so I paused for just a minute to give the pianist a rundown of my pieces, and we were on. I sang my first piece (Mozart), and they asked for Juliette, just as I’d hoped (I have really come to love that aria...), and I sang it with all my heart. And then, when it was over, since there was time, we actually talked about the previous audition! Compliments were paid and disappointments expressed, but more importantly, honest thoughts were expressed from both sides of the table, and I walked away feeling like I had just engaged in one of the most constructive conversations of my career. Not in terms of “oh yeah, I totally got the job,” but more in a sense that I presented myself well to someone who wanted me to do well, and had been stymied by the fact that I didn’t.

It was a draining few days, but as with every hurdle, I came away feeling more in command of my self as a singer. Ultimately, it’s up to me to believe in my work, to know that I can deliver a product that I am proud of. Like I said, a hard lesson to learn... Stay tuned for further chapters; I’m sure there will be many.

Out of touch

I’m having a harder time than I expected dealing with the lack of internet at my home stay… I enjoy getting to bed at a decent hour because I don’t spend too many hours on Facebook, but I feel really out of touch with my friends and family. I’ve never been a big fan of talking on the phone, so my primary communication method for years has been the internet: blogs, IMs, emails, and of course now the addition (addiction) of Facebook. I never feel far from my “people,” no matter what corner of the world they may be wandering.

But this week has been different. I haven’t been aware of my friends’ every move through their status updates. I’ve had to binge on blogs, which doesn’t really allow for true digestion of content. I haven’t written as many emails, and you can only GET email if you WRITE email. So, in short, I’m feeling lonelier than usual when on the road. If you happen to get a phone call from me this month, don't pass out from the shock!

Lonely is a funny thing with me. I really like being alone and I need a certain amount of silence around me in order to really feel at peace. And being alone is different than feeling lonely or out of touch. I haven’t been getting enough time alone this week, either, so I’m a bit out of sorts. Out of sorts and and out of touch makes ACB a little bit of a downer...

The lack of internet has affected my blogging, too, in that I’ve only been able to write when I’ve been at my coffeeshop. I think this has much to do with the fact that I tend to do several things at once while I write: write emails, do searches for references for the post, read other blogs, etc.. And in order to do those things, I have to be online. Meh. I just found a Panera closer to my house than the downtown coffee shop, so I may get over there more often. We’ll see. I miss writing! I didn’t realize until this week how much this has also become part of my balancing routine.

Sorry for the downer post, and sorry for the lack of writing this past week (and likely the next few weeks)! Another facet of this crazy wonderful life. The opera is having their annual black-tie gala tonight, so I am looking forward to getting all dolled up (remember that Badgley Mischka gown I bought in the fall?!?!) and having a good meal and hitting the dance floor!

In other news, I found an art gallery here in Dayton with some paintings by a local artist. There are some landscapes that I absolutely LOVE… I might just have to buy one. My souvenir from Dayton might end up being art instead of clothes… stay tuned!

A party

Today I’ve been repeating to myself a line that I heard in several acting classes: “Self-pity doesn’t read onstage.” Or something like that. The idea being that if you are going to choose an emotion (or, preferably, an action) to play onstage, no one wants to watch you be sorry for yourself. This little lesson had nothing to do with Susanna or Rosina or any character studies, but rather with the little pity party I kept trying to have today. (In truth, it started yesterday; ask my colleagues…) I talked myself out of it eventually, but it was rough going for a while.

It was a hard day, I’m not going to lie. Last night we did our first (and final before tech rehearsals) run-through of the show, wrapping up at 10:30. I came home to try to calm down the brain and sleep; I think was out by 1am. I then got up at 6:30 this morning to drive to Ann Arbor (two-ish hours away) for a rehearsal with the orchestra there, our only rehearsal before the recording sessions on the 17th & 18th. I left at 12:30 to get back to Grand Rapids by 3 for one last working rehearsal. I made it to all my rehearsals on time, mostly (I got a little lost in Ann Arbor), but I was not at my best at the orchestra rehearsal. No where near it.

The drive home was pretty miserable, as I was berating myself for not delivering a flawless product at the rehearsal. I did a lot to prepare, but there is always more that I could have done. I left feeling like I had to make excuses for myself, and that is not a feeling I am used to. I was tired, weary, and wondering how I managed to so overload myself. Um, well, I said yes! And so I have to deliver. No one wants to hear me complain about having too much work to do, and none of my employers want to feel that my work for them is less important than my other work. If I say I’m going to do something, I have to do it. If I over-commit, I still have to figure out a way to get it done.

My colleagues were very sweet to ask how my rehearsal went, and I told myself going in that I could be honest but that I had nothing to complain about. I got myself in this situation, and I’ll do my best, but no one needs to hear how tired I am or how many entrances I missed. (Well, I guess you’re hearing it now, in a sense…) We managed to have a fun afternoon, putting finishing touches on some complex scenes (there are one or two in this opera), and then we all went our separate ways for quiet nights in our TH's.

Getting the job done starts with making sure my voice is healthy, so tonight I’ve rested: lots of water, a steamy shower, and I haven’t talked to anyone except to get briefed on the laundry by my hostess (who is a singer and voice teacher) and get some tips on streaming tv shows online from MR. (That’s four...) Tomorrow afternoon we have our Sitzprobe, an important rehearsal to be healthy for, and then we start tech week.

All of our rehearsals next week are in the evening, so during the day? I will be studying.

Devotion Evolves

In the last couple of months, I’ve had several meetings, usually over tasty dinners, with people who have been my advisors on The Bhakti Project. This fall was a bit of an incubating period, I think, as we all - performers, organizers, composers - thought about what was created this year and how we wanted to move forward. And so we are moving. And shaking and scheming and planning and hoping...

Funny, but just a few months ago, I was really discouraged, even using the word “failure” to talk about The Bhakti Project. All I could see were the goals I hadn’t met, the things that hadn’t worked out just as I planned. Here’s what didn’t work:

1. We didn’t raise $18,000 or complete the three phases (commission, recital, recording).
2. My idea of blog-generated “micro-financing” didn’t really get off the ground.
3. I still owe my composer 80% of his fee.
4. The attendance at the initial recital was terribly disappointing.

Then last month I had to file my end-of-year report for Fractured Atlas. This, together with the above conversations and the clarity that comes with time and distance, made me realize that there were many, many things that did work:

1. We raised $4000, most of it in six weeks, and successfully completed Phase 2 (the recital) under budget.
2. Not including proceeds from recital tickets, 20 people made donations - including six whom I have never met, some of whom have never heard me sing in person.
3. The recital program itself was a success, even the risky elements like a silent meditation and reciting texts and singing Leonard Cohen.
4. We got a fantastic review that will be great material for future press releases and donor materials.

It’s easy to forget that projects evolve, that things change. This doesn’t mean that the first idea failed. It just changed. I bit off WAY more than I could chew when I started this project, naively hopeful that “everything would just work out!” Heh. And things are working out in their time, and along the way I’ve learned a lot and made some wonderful contacts that will aid in the future of the project.

So what’s next? Well, I think JD and I agree that the recital we presented last May, “I have some light: Songs of Spirit,” was unique to that time and that our original idea of presenting that program repeatedly doesn’t feel right. It feels proper that the first Bhakti Project recital was so personal, such an intimate expression of our spiritual relationship with music, but I think we both feel that we said what needed to be said. Now we can use the structure of The Bhakti Project to present new programs.

Hillula is still on the table, of course, and in our last meeting with Judd he mentioned a work that was a major influence as we was writing. The idea came to pair the two pieces on a program, and then those two works together made us think of another cycle (one that was briefly considered for “Songs of Spirit”)… And all of a sudden we had a new program! Three works, each about twenty minutes long. No titles yet, but I will say that it will be a challenging program, both for us as performers and for the audience. We hope to take our audience on an exhausting emotional and spiritual journey. The program feels very “grown-up,” very professional, and we think it would make a killer CD...

We’re also talking about the bigger picture, or “life past Hillula.” We would love to be able to present one recital program a year, maybe touring it, and we plan to include one premiere on each program. Rather than focusing exclusively on new music, we’re hoping to find new works that will stand side-by-side with works that have become “standard” recital repertoire. It’s easy to present new stuff all the time; it’s a bit more of a challenge to show an audience that new music can fit seamlessly with works they already know and love.

That is the new mission of The Bhakti Project. If that interests you, it’s never too early to make a donation for the 2008 program.

(Hmmm… one “new” composer each year. Should it also be one new dress designer each year? I think it should.)

Learned and Learning

To wrap up the year, here is a list of things I that learned in 2007 and things I am still learning:

* Boundaries are very important, both personal and professional. I’m learning how to say no, not just maybe. This applies to gigs, dates, projects, even auditions. I need to take time and think about how each “yes” will affect the big picture of what I want my path to look like, both my career path and my life path. I’m thinking about starting up with talk therapy again to help me with this new phase of my career and my life.

* Heartbreaks are inevitable. Good girlfriends are priceless.

* I’m enjoying learning how to be environmentally responsible. Living in NYC, my carbon footprint is already lower than average, but I’ve started timing my showers (4-6 minutes most days), carrying stylish Envirosax in all my purses instead of using store plastic bags for purchases, taking non-stop flights - or the train! - whenever possible, unplugging my electronics. It feels good.

* Writing an item on my “To Do” list over and over does not get it accomplished any faster. I’m determined not to carry-over any “to do’s” into 2008, so this next week should be a productive one (she says hopefully)! I still owe many of you your Fractured Atlas receipts for your generous Bhakti Project donations; rest assured you will have them well before tax-time, and likely before you get your tax documents from your employers!

*As much as I love to perform, nothing beats seeing a show. Indie rock, Broadway, opera, symphony, recital… I saw some wonderful performances this year and hope to see more next year.

*Hard work pays off, but usually with more hard work to come. A satisfying cycle.

Here is a list of favorite posts from the year. Many of them seem to involve discoveries, too, so I’ve listed the post and what I feel it says I learned. It was a year of growth and learning, like any good year should be.

Beware explosive consonants - What I learned is right there in the title.
The Song of the Lark - We read to see our lives through others’ eyes.
Blocking - Some things I learned long ago are still with me.
Kitchen Sink - I blog to see my life through the lens of the Moment.
A Day In the Life - I love my job and my life in NYC.
Home, On the Road - I can also live well on the road.
Doing vs. Being - Just Be It.
Dear Friend, Leaving So Soon - Some people never leave you.
Lifelines - See above about girlfriends.
My Sweet Manhattan Hometown - Nothing beats a live performance!
The Evolution of the Headshot - Change is good.
Shimmering, Sparkling - It’s ok to be bold and daring!
a Dream - It is possible to be a bit too focused...
Finale - All good things come to an end.

2007 was the year of my Met Debut: Part 1: Leading Up, Part 2: Performance, and Part 3: After Party

And that of a small recital project that ate my life. Here is the Bhakti Project Year in Review. What did I learn through this experience? Hopefully that will be evident next year as the project continues, but mostly I learned, as with all of these things, that I have a lot to learn.

Happy New Year, everyone!!

Good and Bad

Bad: a call from the casting director saying that the director has “decided to go with someone else.”

Good: he also said that they really liked my work, and that they would keep me in mind for future projects.

Good: an email from management saying they had an inquiry for my availability for a very cool new opera based on a play I LOVE directed by someone I’ve wanted to work with for years.

Bad: I’m not available.

It’s been an up-and-down day, you know? But I spent a few good hours working on my Figaro score at LPQ, accompanied for a time by LW. I did some shopping (tickets for Einstein on the Beach and closing night cast presents). I had a fun Hansel & Gretel coaching at the Met. I ran into a couple of former teachers, one of whom will be in the third row for tomorrow night’s final Figaro. And tonight I’ll see Andrew Bird in concert (finally!) with a good friend by my side.

The balance of things is still firmly in the "Good" column…

A dose

In the last 24 hours or so I’ve gotten a couple of reminders that nothing in this career is guaranteed, that I can take nothing for granted. Just some disappointing news – a offered gig I can’t accept and not making the first round a competition I really want to do this year – nothing earth-shattering or devastating or career-ending by any means. A dose of reality.

These little “reminders” seem to come along every so often, and as disappointing as they are, they do help put things into perspective. This is my Job; I have to Work for the things I want! They don’t just come knocking on the door uninvited.

So, back to work! Yesterday I did some updating of my website, adding some performance info and finally getting a working link for Regnava on the Downloads page. (Also there: links to buy Ainadamar and Long Road Home via Amazon.) The recording of Regnava is about a year old now; I’m hoping to get a few new things recorded this fall. Something else to add to the “to do” list!

I’ll get some new pictures up on the site today, I hope. There are some great shots from Volpone, and, of course, the new headshots. Today I’ll be playing with Photoshop and Dreamweaver in between playing with Brahms, Rachmaninoff, Chambers, and Mozart…

Lifelines

Everything I had planned to post about seems trite after hearing about Jerry Hadley. For those who don’t know who he is or what happened, please go read this article in the NY Times. Just know before you read it that it isn’t good news.

I can’t stop thinking that this is a reminder of the side of this business we don’t talk about very often. The lonely side. The side where we constantly put ourselves out there for people’s approval and admiration. The uncertainty about the future of our careers. All of those things that can make as singer feel like he is all alone in this business, that it’s all up to him, and, oh god, what happens if he fails?

I doubt there was a singer out there who, when Beverly Sills passed and the world mourned and shared stories and sang her praises, didn’t wonder, “What will people say about me when I die?” I sure did. Who doesn’t hope to touch lives the way she did and to be remembered with as much love and fondness? A thought like that can either be an inspiration, as it was to many, or it can come to weigh very heavily on your mind and heart.

I will not speak to what brought Mr. Hadley to his decision, and I have no stories or memories of him, other than that of his presence as a great singer. I can only say that, for myself, I am grateful to my friends and family who have stuck by me during the past year of growth (I often use another word to describe last year, but we’ll leave it be for now…). I have learned that I have people I can call at any time if I’m scared, nervous, lonely, sad – and I can call them when I’m happy, excited, feeling silly. I am so blessed.

My family, all of them around the country. JD and ND, MP and PDB, CLR, CT the DT, MP, KG, LW, KW, all my blog friends, my new Wolf Trap buddies and Met colleagues. You are my lifelines. I am grateful that you are there, and even more grateful that I have learned how to use you. I am learning to be a lifeline, too, and I am honored every time you call on me.

We’re not all alone in this business, or any business, but we have to reach out, to look, to open our eyes. We have to ask for help. My heart aches for Mr. Hadley, and for all those who feel they are alone. Reach out to someone today, even if it’s only a smile or a small random act of kindness. You’ll never know how much it can help.

Too Much

I told PK, the director of Volpone, the just about the only thing I didn’t do wrong today was not sleep through my alarm. And, well, maybe it would have been a better day if I had…

I very often make these very intricate plans, plans that could totally bomb if one element is out of place. And, usually, things work out pretty well, a recent success being the trip over to Red Hook to meet with Nadia. In a manner of speaking, I guess the past six weeks have been one big intricate plan. That recital took a LOT of mental focus, lots of planning, lots of energy, and it came off. But not without weeks of mile-long To DO lists; rehearsing; worrying about money for Bhakti; and learning a beautiful, challenging, written-just-for-me work that needed to have a killer premiere. Ask anyone who came out for a late dinner after the recital, and they will tell you that I was a complete blob. I had nothing left.

But, five days later, I had to pack up for three months and relocate for a very important gig. A gig with some very hard music of its own, with which I hadn’t spent nearly enough time. (I can say that now, since we’ve had the first rehearsal and I don’t think I embarrassed myself. My “boss” reads this blog, after all!) I was so nervous, and felt time rapidly slipping through my fingers. I started packing for the summer at 8pm the night before my 11am train, packing for a time and then sitting with the score and my keyboard, then back to packing.

(And, imagine on top of all of this, that I might have met someone a few weeks ago with whom I would want to spend lots and lots of time, but couldn’t because of all of the above. A stress of a different kind...)

I’ve said several times today that I’m surprised, looking back, that things didn’t fall apart any earlier. I guess it was a matter of being able to control things, which I was largely able to do – until today. Today I could control nothing, and, therefore, finally had the “I’m exhausted and frustrated” breakdown that those of you who know me in Real Life would have recognized. This is often followed by the “Now I’m just embarrassed” phase, which usually involves finding the best hugger I can and holding on until I can truly laugh about the tears. Good hugs today from JP (I didn’t even need to ask her; she just saw me and said, “Oh, you look like you need a hug!”) and JJ. Many thanks…

So… the day. I’ll try to keep it short.

The Goal: Get to Franconia on the Metro, meet up with the Seller at the DMV, make the exchange, get registered, and get back for my costume fitting at 11. Return the rental car after the fitting. Celebrate my powers of organization and planning.

(Ok, first of all: What was I thinking??!! Saturday morning at the DMV?! Not an in-and-out endeavor.)

The Metro is undergoing weekend maintenance, so we’re stuck underground for half an hour, starting the lateness. The man I bought the car from is slow (not old, just slow) and condescending (“Don’t forget to change the oil every 3000 miles.”) The car itself is decidedly more beat-up than he let on, but it runs. We decide to skip the DMV after seeing the massive line, but only after I can convince him that I will send his tags back to him asap. When I get in the car, I discover that I left my good map in the rental, but I have general directions back to WT. Call and say I’ll be a few minutes late. No problem.

Then, as soon as I hit 70mph on the Interstate – the Check Engine light turns on. You have got to be kidding me. It stays on for the next hour as I’m driving in circles around Vienna, wondering franticly why the roads aren’t going where I think they’re supposed to. I HATE being lost!! I learned how to read a map at a very early age. I always got carsick on our family road trips, so I’d end up in the passenger seat with my Dad driving, and if you’re going to sit there you have to know how to navigate. I love maps, and can find my way just about anywhere if I have one. But today, no map. Lost, hungry, and afraid that I’d bought a total lemon. (The Check Engine light didn’t come back on when I start the car again, but I’ll be investigating…)

Finally, I give up, and LAM comes to rescue me. We meet in a parking lot and I follow her back to campus. By this time I have missed my costume fitting (another thing I hate being: Late), but they were able to move someone ahead and get some work done, rescheduling me for later.

In addition to not having my map, I also hadn’t had any of my usual snacks with me, so I was starving. For some reason I was craving a Snickers (can’t remember the last time I had one), so I buy one, but before I take it out I decide to also get a bottle of water (from the same machine). The bottle falls down – and lands in such a way as to jam the door closed.

I stood there staring at it, head against the glass, thinking, “This should be funny. I should be laughing by this point.” But it was all I could do not to burst into those loud, crazy, quasi-laughing sobs! It was the final blow, the one that makes you realize on days like this that there is nothing you can do. You are Double-O-C, as my brother and I used to say. Out Of Control.

It also makes you realize that when your idea of a “terrible day” involves being lost (with a cellphone), missing an appointment, and not being able to get your Snickers, your life is actually pretty damn good.

Hitch

The well-oiled machine that was My Life for the past few months finally hit hitch today. I'm fine, really; no one is hurt, I still have my job. But I am exhausted. I don't think I was really aware of it until today, but I think I've been under a lot of stress recently!! And today I broke.

I'll write it all out tonight, because, really, a day this bad is rather funny when it's all out in black and white. But for now, a cool shower and a nap. A real nap - not one where I lie there with my eyes closed for fifteen minutes reciting lyrics or thinking about what I have to do when I get up. Deep sleep with a gentle fan blowing overhead and birds chirping outside my window.

I'm not even going to set my alarm.

On my feet!

I finally had a few hours of rehearsal for Suor Angelica this week, and boy, did it feel good to finally get up on my feet and stage some scenes! I don’t know this opera very well, being one of maybe three sopranos in the world who has never been in it. (Since it has an all female cast, it’s very popular in schools and other training programs.) But let me tell you, there were at least two moments, even in this rough first rehearsal, where I was brought to tears. The story, the singers, the staging… it’s going to be an incredible evening.

At the end of rehearsal, I went up to Mr. O’Brien to let him know that I will also be the “Young Lover, Soprano”, aka YLS, (not to be confused with YSL, with whom, yes, I would love to work!) in Tabarro. He said, “Oh, wonderful! I hope you’re not afraid of heights!”

Gulp!

Just as I suspected, my YLT and I will be walking across the bridge that can be seen in mockups of the Tabarro set. And, apparently, it’s very high! I told Mr. O’Brien that, yes, I am actually afraid of heights, but being in this business, I’ve learned to get over it. I have to! It seems we’re always on ledges or wires or staircases that push the limits of our comfort zone. God help me if I ever have to sing a Rhine Maiden! They often fly on rigs in order to create the illusion of swimming, all while singing and trying to look like they do it every day. Thankfully, I’m not exactly a Wagnerian… I actually volunteered for the lighting crew in college to help with the fear, but after I got a concussion up in the catwalks, I was relegated to costume crew. As long as no one threatens to push me over, I’ll be fine…in time.

Since our staging for Tabarro is entirely on the bridge, it looks like we’re not going to be called until the rehearsals are on the mainstage! Makes sense, of course, as there is no bridge in the C-level rehearsal room (although there is the boat…). But how crazy is that?! With three operas to stage in the time usually allotted for one, they have to use the rehearsal time most efficiently, and this seems to be an easy 30 seconds to cut out of early rehearsals.

One good thing about it: the sound up there, high up on the bridge and fairly far upstage, will be very different that it would be in a rehearsal room. If I only rehearse it on the stage, my ears won’t get used to having the sound source (piano or orchestra) closer than it would be in performance. The bigger the stage, the harder it is to account for the fraction of a second it takes for the sound from the orchestra to reach your ears. It is very easy to get behind the beat! So, with this rehearsal setup, I’ll be relying on my eyes from the very beginning. Good practice.

I have a Helena cover brush-up rehearsal tomorrow, and then rehearsals for the Gala start on Friday. I’m actually double booked on Friday, so I’ll be going back and forth between Angelica and Elisir. (Can I say that I’m terribly excited to be in the same room with Rolando Villazon? I’ve avoided much star-gushing here, but … eee!! I just know I’m going to blush.) I’ve had a fitting for my Gala costume, should I go on as Giannetta, but still no fitting for YLS’s sexy red dress! Next week, certainly.

Thoughts on last week’s MATA concerts and the big question of “image,” coming up.

Remedies

I set out with the best of intentions this evening, carrying my new yoga bag (a Christmas gift from my sister) through the snow flurries to my 6:30 yoga class. Only, guess what? The class started at 6:00. D’oh! “The best laid plans…”

Instead of asanas, I wandered a bit and found another blues-buster, one favored by at least two of my readers: CUPCAKES!!


Now, I’m no food pornographer, but those look pretty good, right? Devil’s Food and Raspberry… yummmmm. A clean house, some exercise, cupcakes, and free episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and Ugly Betty on abc.com. Life’s not so blue after all. In another attempt to get out of my head, I also, per my mother’s suggestion, found a potential volunteer opportunity in my neighborhood; more on that as it develops.

Here are those bullet points I promised:

• I attended the Friday lunchtime concert of the New York Philharmonic last weekend. It was an interesting mix of a program: a Beethoven piano concerto, selections from Debussy’s “Impressions for Orchestra,” and the US Premiere of a work by Swedish composer Roger Börzt. The Börzt piece opened the concert, with a strident and seemingly endless chord, shimmering in the high strings. It was pushed the limit of uncomfortability (if that’s a word), and the much of the audience was obviously uncomfortable throughout most of the piece. I loved it, however, and I think I showed my age a bit when I grew quickly bored with the Beethoven! Obviously, I love Beethoven, but my tastes lean more and more toward what’s being written today.

• Also on Friday, I had a late lunch with Ariadne, who spent a long weekend taking in as much opera as she could cram into her schedule! It's always fun to meet other bloggers face to face, and this was no exception. Hope you had a wonderful NYC visit!

• Saturday night, KW and I sat in the company box to watch Judith Forst work her magic as Kostelnicka. With apologies to Sieglinde, this was our view: Cool! The sound wasn’t as good there as elsewhere in the house, but the vantage point was worth it. And of course, Forst didn’t disappoint! Someone a few tiers above us ripped up their playbill to throw as confetti at her curtain call, which was totally cool. I turned toward the house to drink in the scene as the audience let the performers know how much they enjoyed the evening. It was one of those “pinch me” moments…

• Last night I went with some friends to watch our friend LC perform in Follies at City Center. She was SOOOO wonderful, and beautiful, and it was absolutely thrilling to see her onstage with stars like Donna Murphy, Christine Baranski, Victoria Clark, and Victor Garber. Remember my shattered illusions of Broadway a few months ago? Well, they’ve been restored. Across the board, the commitment and skill and talent on that stage was awe-inspiring. Victoria Clark’s vocal technique is a dream, and Donna Murphy is beyond sensational. It was a night full of goose bumps and gasps, truly thrilling. The thrills continued as we bumped into star after star backstage and at the cast party: SJP and Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, Bernadette Peters, Joel Grey, Barbara Cook, Fred Willard, and the maestro himself: Stephen Sondheim. What a night!!

• (One more note about that: I totally geeked out on Donna Murphy. I told her that I belonged to what I imagined was a small cross-section of her fans who saw her as Fosca in Passion on Broadway and then wore out the CD original cast recording AND who own her Star Trek movie. Dork!!)

• Helena rehearsals started this week, and tomorrow I think I’ll get a chance to get up on my feet. I’m covering the same woman in this production that I did in Jenufa, and on days when she has a show in the evening, I’ll likely get to step in for her for at least part of the rehearsal. It sounds like the Elves are going to have a lot of blocking, which means lots of rehearsal… This is also a new production, rather than a revival (like Jenufa) in which the director is working from the blocking book he and the stage managers created when they built the show the first time. (I love that book. It’s an office supply-lover’s dream! Maybe I’ll get a picture…)

That’s all she wrote! Thanks for your words of encouragement; they meant a lot.

I live here now.

A few weeks ago, when I was in the middle of life-transition blues, my mom shared something that really helped me through it. She told me that she felt the same way after every move, and she’s been through many as an adult. (She was a military kid, as I was, but how easily we transition when we’re kids!) After the house was unpacked, and we kids were off to school, she said she asked herself every time: Ok, where do I fit in this picture? Then she assured me that while the feeling may stick around for a while, one day she’d just wake up and it would be gone. She lived there.

Well, as moms often are, she was right. One day last week, I realized that the feeling of anxiety and fear that had been hanging around me since I arrived in NYC was gone. I live here, and my patterns are starting to show that. I’ve been more social, getting out to know the different parts of the city, going on some dates and spending time with friends and the Brooklyn Birds (brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew). An art exhibit, a concert, a friend’s recital (his first Winterreisse!), a cabaret show (where I saw Liza Minnelli!! Me: Look, there’s a Liza impersonator. MP: Um, no, that’s really Liza!), and yoga classes and workshops at my new yoga home. Lessons with Mark, of course, and audition and recital prep with JD.

I live here now.

But there is still fear. It’s just a different kind of fear, one that’s been with me for a long time and one that I’ve let dictate my actions for too long. Maybe writing about it here will help me conquer it. It is the fear of success.

Why I’m afraid of it, what exactly I’m afraid of, I can’t tell you. But I can see how this fear is starting to get in my way. I know that “Regnava nel silenzio” (from Lucia di Lammermoor) is going to be my aria, the one that says to anyone who heard me sing last year or the year before “Check this out: I’ve grown up.” The aria that is the difference between “We like her; let’s keep an eye on her.” and “We like her; let’s hire her.” My goal was to have it ready for my NY City Opera audition, which is on Monday. But have I done it? No. It’s stuck at the 90% level, all the notes learned, memorized, all the cadences settled, etc., but I just haven’t taken the time to really get it into my body and voice. I’m pretty mad about it, too, and I know I’m the only one to blame. I have so much time these days, a true luxury, and I’m wasting it. WHY?? Fear.

Today I went to a yoga workshop focusing on headstand. Many people talked about the fear that was holding them back from mastering the pose, and I realized that I’ve never been afraid of it. (My issues are balance and holding the pose, two things that are getting easier as my body gains strength and my mind gains clarity.) The teacher said that we too easily stereotype ourselves and psych ourselves out of an action; she called them “personal chauvinisms.” “I don’t do headstand.” If we say that, we’ll have a hard time ever getting our feet up there! It works the other way, too, and I think I’ve always seen myself as someone who does headstand. Sure, why not? So I do it.

After the workshop I went to coach with JD, and I realized that while I can do a headstand (I even held it for ten seconds by the end of the workshop!), I’m psyching myself out of a lot of other beneficial actions because of my fear. Singing the right rep is only one, but it’s a big one.

So tonight and tomorrow night and Monday morning, I’m living with Regnava. It’s time to stop being afraid of it and get it out there. Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead! Right? Eek.

Nice and Tough

Nice: Coming home to find my roommate scrubbing the kitchen floor. On his hands and knees, even! Our ancient tiles are now substantially less dingy, and the kitchen smells delightfully of Mop-n-Glo.

Tough: Haven’t seen any for a few days, but we have pests. Yes, “life in the big city” and all that, but… yuck. If the little four-legged one shows its face again, we’re borrowing a cat.

Nice: Stopping by the Post Office to pick up a mysterious package, only to get home and find it contains FIVE Kronos Quartet cds! I confessed to a friend recently (someone in “the business”) that I had never listened to any of their work, and he said he would get me started. Current listening: Osvaldo’s Dreams & Prayers of Isaac the Blind. Thank you, friend.

Tough: Running out of disc space on my computer. Time for an external hard drive! (I'd rather spend the money on that fabulous purple dress in the window of Neda, but I suppose that can wait...)

Nice: A good audition (“Caro nome” and Baby Doe’s Silver Aria are actually a great audition pairing…) with hair that cooperated (mostly), and an afternoon spent delving through music for the spring recital project that I keep saying I’m going to write about but never do. Someday. It’s almost time to announce it in the concert series, so I might as well fill you all in on the program explorations.

Tough: Hearing that Erik, my ex-husband, fell off of a climbing wall Tuesday night. Fell 15-ft, onto his straight legs, which jammed up his back something fierce. He is recovering well, thanks to drug cocktails and days off of work, and friends rallying to care for him with dinners and taking care of the dog. He’ll be with his girlfriend this weekend, too, so I know he’s in good hands… But I still worry.

Nice: A weekend full of plans for drinks with friends, seeing my roommate’s concert, and brunch with more friends. Hopefully some yoga and some practicing to round it all out. I might even cook, finally.

Tough: Understanding what people mean when they say that NYC is the loneliest city in the world. I know I’ve only been here a month, but right now it stinks. Literally. I miss my dog, I miss having space around me, I miss nights with collaborative dinners and board games, I miss the fireplace.

I love my new city and my new life, but this time of transition is hard. I’m starting over with a clean slate, and sometimes I don’t know what to make of it. It all feels very “personal,” and I don’t write about that much here, but I thought I would a little. If only to refute the people who think my life is a rose-filled parade all the time (and I know you’re out there). You can know no one’s life but your own, and even that is harder than it seems. Remember what happens when we assume?

I’m going to post this. I might take it down or edit it tomorrow morning, after a good night’s sleep. But for now I’ll post it. Smudge the image a little bit…