I have insomnia so I'm up tonight doing the usual - tidying up loose ends, sending out emails, cleaning the house - all the things insomniacs do. I guess we figure we're up, we might as well use the energy because at some point in day we will crash.
Anyway, so I'm up on the computer (obviously) and I just read a story about a man who used to have a 6 figure job, a family and a respectable life but then lost his job, got divorced because he fathered a child with his girlfriend, found out he had a brain tumor and eventually lost his girlfriend because he had no money. He apparently wrote a book recently that will be made into a movie. He has been working at Starbuck's as a barrista and says he's truly and fully happy for the first time in his life. This has hit a nerve with me. I think I have just come to understand something deep about myself.
In order to be truly happy, one must have courage. I'm not happy, not truly, deeply happy, because I'm afraid to be. Because I'm afraid to dismantle everything I know and everything I think I am in order to find true happiness. Deep down inside me I know that going to school is not making me happy. Having a degree won't make me happy. Staying in a dysfunctional marriage isn't making me happy. A year ago I was very tempted to pack my things (in fact, I'd started to do it) and was going to just walk out on my whole life and start over from scratch. But I stopped. I thought I'd never find a job, I'd be struggling, I wouldn't know how to live uncomfortably after being made so comfortable all these years. I would probably have to give up singing (although I wonder if I should be doing that anyway). I thought it through and decided that it's not the right time. I just don't have whatever "it" is I need to face the hardships that would surely be awaiting me. In the end, when I thought it through, I decided I wasn't so sure I'd be any happier, so I have stayed.
But somewhere, deep down in my being, I do have a longing for something different. A different existence where I wake up in the morning and take the deep fresh comforting breath of feeling that I'm doing what I want and I'm not living a lie. When I lived on my own in New York I had that feeling most mornings. It's a good feeling. I'd like to have it again.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
My return to Music School
Going back to school and forcing myself to hear intervals and memorize fucking German chords makes me not want to sing. I haven’t wanted to sing for 2 weeks. I have an audition on Tuesday and I could not be less enthused about it. I have barely worked on it and I’m hoping it’s not that apparent but somehow I am worried it will be.
I had to sing my new aria for Opera Workshop and the look on Pamela’s face was like, “what the fuck is she singing?” I had the rhythms all fucked up and probably some of the intonation and she said I was scooping and portamentoing all over the place. Made me feel like a Loser. Makes me feel like I’m not really any good at this and maybe I’ve just spent my whole life trying to do something that is forced and not really natural to me. I’m sure I’ll manage to make some friends who hate what I do too. But maybe it’s best to let them find me.
Except I know that’s not right. I know that’s only half the story. Parts of this are very natural to me. The actual singing has come pretty naturally, even if the coordination has tended to be inconsistent, the actual, pure singing part of his has been natural. The ability to color my voice and make actual music from my soul – that has always come naturally to me, which is why I think it’s hard for me to think of music in the dry clinical terms that music school forces upon you. I’ve always felt that the way music schools approach teaching music and ear training makes me want to run screaming from the room. I guess it’s like going to med school because you want to make people feel better. You want to fix them. You want them to leave better than they came in. And then they put a cadaver in front of you and ask you to pull it apart. While this is part of the learning process, it’s enough to make you puke and faint because the LAST thing you want is to pull dead bodies apart – right? You want to fix living, breathing beings. So, that’s kind of how I feel half the time. Like they’re making me deal with dead things when I soooo desire to work with the live things. And, truthfully, the problem at Rutgers, specifically, is that they don’t really have a program geared towards singing. Their program is general. It’s not targeted. And so, I think singers there aren’t really getting a concentration on some subjects they could really use and getting too much of other things they really don’t need as much. Like, no singer really ever will use the information I’m learning now on the German sixth. Not if you’re singing. Highly unlikely.
Anyway, despite feeling like my first run of the aria was less than wonderful, the woman sitting next to me, the one who’s also been to Mannes, she rubbed my shoulder after and said it was beautiful. I’ll have to make her a friend. I need some new friends and what better friend than one who actually likes what you do? That’s not an ego thing, it’s just if I’m going to make friends, it’s nice to know they’re already on my side. Isn’t that just the way we’re designed? Would you try to make friends with the person who was making nasty faces while you were singing? Not likely.
I had to sing my new aria for Opera Workshop and the look on Pamela’s face was like, “what the fuck is she singing?” I had the rhythms all fucked up and probably some of the intonation and she said I was scooping and portamentoing all over the place. Made me feel like a Loser. Makes me feel like I’m not really any good at this and maybe I’ve just spent my whole life trying to do something that is forced and not really natural to me. I’m sure I’ll manage to make some friends who hate what I do too. But maybe it’s best to let them find me.
Except I know that’s not right. I know that’s only half the story. Parts of this are very natural to me. The actual singing has come pretty naturally, even if the coordination has tended to be inconsistent, the actual, pure singing part of his has been natural. The ability to color my voice and make actual music from my soul – that has always come naturally to me, which is why I think it’s hard for me to think of music in the dry clinical terms that music school forces upon you. I’ve always felt that the way music schools approach teaching music and ear training makes me want to run screaming from the room. I guess it’s like going to med school because you want to make people feel better. You want to fix them. You want them to leave better than they came in. And then they put a cadaver in front of you and ask you to pull it apart. While this is part of the learning process, it’s enough to make you puke and faint because the LAST thing you want is to pull dead bodies apart – right? You want to fix living, breathing beings. So, that’s kind of how I feel half the time. Like they’re making me deal with dead things when I soooo desire to work with the live things. And, truthfully, the problem at Rutgers, specifically, is that they don’t really have a program geared towards singing. Their program is general. It’s not targeted. And so, I think singers there aren’t really getting a concentration on some subjects they could really use and getting too much of other things they really don’t need as much. Like, no singer really ever will use the information I’m learning now on the German sixth. Not if you’re singing. Highly unlikely.
Anyway, despite feeling like my first run of the aria was less than wonderful, the woman sitting next to me, the one who’s also been to Mannes, she rubbed my shoulder after and said it was beautiful. I’ll have to make her a friend. I need some new friends and what better friend than one who actually likes what you do? That’s not an ego thing, it’s just if I’m going to make friends, it’s nice to know they’re already on my side. Isn’t that just the way we’re designed? Would you try to make friends with the person who was making nasty faces while you were singing? Not likely.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Stream of Consciousness for Today.
Since this is, in fact, a “stream of consciousness” entry… here goes.
I fucking hate everybody today. I mean - HATE!!! People Suck!!! Izzy, Matthew, Madeleine, Will Crutchfield… everyone!!! Everyone who is backing away from me because I’m too neurotic or over driven or too unrealistic or because I have a fast vibrato they don’t believe will ever soften… all of them can mother fucking kiss my ass!!! They think they know soooo much. They have some sort of crystal ball. I mean, Matthew was the only one honest enough to come right out and say it, “we (meaning he and his gay opera fag friend Lee) don’t think you’ll ever have a BIG career on account of we don’t think that fast vibrato will ever calm down enough.”
Yep. So, I figure if one person said it and another person years ago said it, then others must be thinking it. Yet, simultaneously, people like Madeleine (technically, her friend said it) and Will have said that my voice, when it’s fully together, should pretty much be able to demand whatever price I want.
So which is it?!!
I tell you which it is!! Both. Except the people who are tiptoeing away carefully and/or not-so-carefully are showing a tremendous lack of belief that I can pull this off and that just fucking pisses me off!!! Do you know why it pisses me off?
Cuz despite the fact that it’s been YYYYEEEEEEEAAAARRRSS and I have been working hard and only now am beginning to smooth out the voice and am only now beginning to clear up the vibrato issues and am only now understanding how important it is to lose like 50 lbs. Despite all that – one thing remains. I have the goods. I do. I know it and even the tiptoers know it. And I can do something with the goods.
And you know what? I still believe there’s a place for me to showcase my goods and I still believe that, while the deck is stacked against me and I’m going to have to fight and scratch to earn everything I get, I still believe I have what it takes to make people stop (especially the tiptoers and the ones who fled early on) and say, “Oh Shit! She fucking did it! She fucking pulled it off! We didn’t think she could do it. We thought it was too late and she’d never fucking figure it out but… oh shit! She did it!” I know I can make them do that. And when I do some of them will come to me and say stuff like, “I always knew you could do it.” And I’ll smile and nod but inside I’ll be thinking, “no you didn’t”.
Fuck them.
I fucking hate everybody today. I mean - HATE!!! People Suck!!! Izzy, Matthew, Madeleine, Will Crutchfield… everyone!!! Everyone who is backing away from me because I’m too neurotic or over driven or too unrealistic or because I have a fast vibrato they don’t believe will ever soften… all of them can mother fucking kiss my ass!!! They think they know soooo much. They have some sort of crystal ball. I mean, Matthew was the only one honest enough to come right out and say it, “we (meaning he and his gay opera fag friend Lee) don’t think you’ll ever have a BIG career on account of we don’t think that fast vibrato will ever calm down enough.”
Yep. So, I figure if one person said it and another person years ago said it, then others must be thinking it. Yet, simultaneously, people like Madeleine (technically, her friend said it) and Will have said that my voice, when it’s fully together, should pretty much be able to demand whatever price I want.
So which is it?!!
I tell you which it is!! Both. Except the people who are tiptoeing away carefully and/or not-so-carefully are showing a tremendous lack of belief that I can pull this off and that just fucking pisses me off!!! Do you know why it pisses me off?
Cuz despite the fact that it’s been YYYYEEEEEEEAAAARRRSS and I have been working hard and only now am beginning to smooth out the voice and am only now beginning to clear up the vibrato issues and am only now understanding how important it is to lose like 50 lbs. Despite all that – one thing remains. I have the goods. I do. I know it and even the tiptoers know it. And I can do something with the goods.
And you know what? I still believe there’s a place for me to showcase my goods and I still believe that, while the deck is stacked against me and I’m going to have to fight and scratch to earn everything I get, I still believe I have what it takes to make people stop (especially the tiptoers and the ones who fled early on) and say, “Oh Shit! She fucking did it! She fucking pulled it off! We didn’t think she could do it. We thought it was too late and she’d never fucking figure it out but… oh shit! She did it!” I know I can make them do that. And when I do some of them will come to me and say stuff like, “I always knew you could do it.” And I’ll smile and nod but inside I’ll be thinking, “no you didn’t”.
Fuck them.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Regrets
I have just stumbled upon a beautiful blog. It has touched me so deeply that I have no real words. But the word regret comes to mind and it's emblazoned into my heart.
I helped to deeply wound and scar someone. Someone who absolutely did not deserve it. I helped to wound her because in my youthful fire I believed all was fair in love and war. Well, perhaps it is, but only if you can live with the spoils afterward. I have spent years wondering if she is okay. I've spent years hoping that she went on and lived well. And, I just saw her artwork and I feel both happy for her and sad at the same time. I am happy to see that her art is even more detailed and defined and interesting. I'm happy she is doing her art and loving her life and adoring her children. I'm happy to hear they are happy and well adjusted and beautiful and doing well. I feared they would grow up sad or shadowed by the events of several years ago. I'm happy that, by and large, it seems everyone managed to move forward relatively unscathed. But I have a deep sadness as well.
Deep down I know she has become hyper vigilant. I know she has trouble not seeing the tiny lies in people's eyes. I know she has deep sadness for the loss of her marriage. And I am saddened because I was a part of her sadness. At the time I had no true concept of what I was doing. I really didn't. But now, in hindsight, I realize I should have done things differently. It is the one true regret of my life. I know she feels it's her fault, but it isn't. It really isn't. There was nothing she could have done. What happened was going to happen even if it hadn't been me. Her husband was restless and bored and probably cheating on his mistress as well as his wife. She could not have stopped his restlessness. It was totally not her fault. I have read her blog and I want desperately to reach out to her. But how am I supposed to do that from my vantage point?
I'm just glad that she's keeping her work alive and I read in her blog she's falling in love. I wish her, from far off in the distance, all the happiness her craziest fantasies can conjure up. I wish her a relationship like we all dream of. Where you see the clear, crystal truth in your lover's eyes and it makes you feel calm and loved and strong and sure footed. This I wish her because it is what she deserves.
If the universe is watching this, it will reach her. I know it.
I helped to deeply wound and scar someone. Someone who absolutely did not deserve it. I helped to wound her because in my youthful fire I believed all was fair in love and war. Well, perhaps it is, but only if you can live with the spoils afterward. I have spent years wondering if she is okay. I've spent years hoping that she went on and lived well. And, I just saw her artwork and I feel both happy for her and sad at the same time. I am happy to see that her art is even more detailed and defined and interesting. I'm happy she is doing her art and loving her life and adoring her children. I'm happy to hear they are happy and well adjusted and beautiful and doing well. I feared they would grow up sad or shadowed by the events of several years ago. I'm happy that, by and large, it seems everyone managed to move forward relatively unscathed. But I have a deep sadness as well.
Deep down I know she has become hyper vigilant. I know she has trouble not seeing the tiny lies in people's eyes. I know she has deep sadness for the loss of her marriage. And I am saddened because I was a part of her sadness. At the time I had no true concept of what I was doing. I really didn't. But now, in hindsight, I realize I should have done things differently. It is the one true regret of my life. I know she feels it's her fault, but it isn't. It really isn't. There was nothing she could have done. What happened was going to happen even if it hadn't been me. Her husband was restless and bored and probably cheating on his mistress as well as his wife. She could not have stopped his restlessness. It was totally not her fault. I have read her blog and I want desperately to reach out to her. But how am I supposed to do that from my vantage point?
I'm just glad that she's keeping her work alive and I read in her blog she's falling in love. I wish her, from far off in the distance, all the happiness her craziest fantasies can conjure up. I wish her a relationship like we all dream of. Where you see the clear, crystal truth in your lover's eyes and it makes you feel calm and loved and strong and sure footed. This I wish her because it is what she deserves.
If the universe is watching this, it will reach her. I know it.
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