My friends and I went to an upscale Puerto Rican restaurant in New York this weekend. It's called SOFRITO. For those of you who don't know what sofrito is, it's pretty much the basis of all latin cooking in the islands. It's used by Puerto Ricans and Dominicans mainly, but it's also used in parts of South America. It's a paste made in a blender of herbs, onion, garlic, special peppers. In a typical latin household, the wife would make this up about once a month, put it in a large plastic container, then spoon it out throughout the month into various dishes she was cooking. It's absolutely awesome and, without it, you cannot get an authentic latin caribbean meal. The name of the restaurant says it all.
The food was phenomenal. Having grown up eating sancocho and pernil and maduros and arroz con habichuelas, I can attest that this is the real deal. It was nice having a birthday dinner with my childhood friend, her sister and her cousin because there we were, all grown up now having each become professional women after having come from humble Puerto Rican and Dominican backgrounds. Our group was comprised of a doctor, a speech pathologist and an opera singer/voice teacher. (I didn't ask what her cousin does but she seemed pretty well put together and smart as a whip.) There we were, four girls from "the hood" in a very chic restaurant on third and 53rd reclaiming our roots yet celebrating our accomplishments all at the same time. Actually, we were there to celebrate Mary's 40th Birthday! It was like a coming of age party for us all. The restaurant owner, Jimmy Rodriguez, who has owned several well-known spanish restaurants, has apparently realized that the new latin generation needs a place like this. A place where the next generation can meet and carry forward.
However, because of its east side, New York location, we each assumed the same thing when we got there. This is going to be some watered-down-for-the-gringos experience. We were wrong. We couldn't have been more wrong. The food was completely off the charts good!! Nicely presented, charming, warm service and tasty, tasty, authentic flavor. We were seriously shocked. I ordered sancocho as an appetizer. It came in a small "caldero". That's a small pot, but it's a very typical pot you'll find in most latin kitchens all over New York. It was a nice touch. I dipped my spoon in and could not believe my taste buds. It tasted like my mom's!! It tasted like my godmother's!! It tasted like home and it was gooood. I looked to Mary and Goldy and Soett and I said, "You have to try this. You're not going to believe it." They each did and then we just had to share it. Soett's comment was that it tasted like her grandma made it. Mary said "I'm so sorry dad's not here. He would love this." Seriously, it's comfort food for the Puerto Ricans and Dominicans who have arrived. We also ordered maduros (sweet plaintains) which were heavenly good and sweet, as they should be.
Mary ordered the pernil. You can judge a latin restaurant by it's pernil. If the pernil is good, then they are the real thing. Mary's eyes rolled back in her head. "You have to try this." We all did. Seriously. It was so good I feel a need to scream it out to anyone who might give a $hit. That adobo/garlic flavor that is supposed to be the defining taste in the pernil experience - it was there. I have tried pernil in many places over the past several years and this is by faaaar the best I've ever had. And I don't mean the best I've ever had in a restaurant. I mean, the best I've ever had running neck and neck with my godmother Sofia's, which was good enough to make you weep with joy.
I cannot leave out the drinks. The drinks were completely out of this world too. The mojito is one of the best out there. I've been disappointed by mojito's I've had elsewhere but this is a really, really good mojito. And, if you grew up liking Coquito (even if you didn't but like coconut) then do yourself a favor and order the Cocotini. It will send happy burbujas (bubbles) straight through you.
I give Sofrito 5 stars for flavor, 4 stars for general presentation, 5 stars for service and 4 stars for decor. (The bathroom, I was told, was too small for the place, but the rest of the restaurant is really chic and sleek and nicely done with a kind of nouveau latin flair.) The biggest surprise of the evening was the bill. For four women, including appetizers, drinks and tip amounted to roughly $175. For a New York restaurant, that is an inexpensive night out but there was nothing cheap about the experience.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Suburbia is making me a nasty girl.
Okay, I have some observations here. I lived in New York most of my adult life. In upper Manhattan in Hudson Heights. On a beautiful tree lined street, in a pre-war building, surrounded by many artistic and smart people. There was a beautiful park within walking distance and Lincoln Center, my usual haunt, was a 20 minute train ride away. It really was the Nirvana of my existence.
I now live in suburbia. Suburbia in New Jersey. It's not Nirvana but it has it's definite selling points. For starters, there's space. I have suffered a need for space for a long time. I lived with a lover in New York for several years in a studio apartment. That probably started it. Then I got a spacious, sun filled, 1 bedroom in the aforementioned building. It had an eat-in kitchen and a deep soaking tub. For a single girl living in Manhattan, I'd hit the jackpot. This was loads of space for me. But then I met my husband and, once again, I wanted more space. When his job had him commuting between Princeton and New York, we figured we needed to move to some location between the two points. That's how we ended up buying a house in Middlesex County. I fell in love with the house because it too was pre-war. It had the familiar plaster walls, the high ceilings, old oak floors. It felt somehow familiar, and since I've never lived in suburbia, I needed familiar. I needed something to link me to my Nirvana. This house was it.
I instantly fell in love with the concept of gardening. I love putting things in the ground, caring for them and then watching them bloom. For a city girl like me, this seems like some kind of miracle. I used to frequent the garden in Ft. Tryon Park and admire the blooms, photographing the butterflies and the people on benches, the George Washington Bridge, the Hudson. It was all breath taking and wonderful, but now I am experiencing nature's beauty from a much more hands-on experience. Digging in the earth, putting in the seeds and bulbs, watering them, weeding them, then watching them grow into gorgeous, colorful flowers. That seems miraculous to me. Before, I just thought these things appeared around me, as if by magic. But now that I am responsible for picking them, placing them and cultivating them, I realize how much I took for granted in my beautiful uptown park.
I am now getting to the crux of the problem I'm having today. In the midst of all this beauty and nature, I have noticed a disturbing trend in my personal upkeep. When I lived in New York I would never leave the apartment without makeup. I would never "just bum it". Even if I went out in jeans, they were always neat jeans and a cool top and good hair or a cap. I just wouldn't dare just run out of the apartment any old way. Not even to throw out the garbage.
But something happened in suburbia. I would like to preface this next bit by saying this only happens once in a long while, but it does happen, and I should be more disgusted with my behavior, yet, oddly, I'm not. I have allowed myself to fall asleep late at night in my t-shirt (I know this is probably TMI but I'm blogging here). I awake, having not showered, having fallen asleep in my t-shirt, throw on a ratty pair of jeans or, worse yet, holey sweatpants. I grab the car keys, jump in the car, drive my husband to the train station, then sometimes I stop to pick up some coffee and lotto tickets. I come home, do a workout and THEN I shower before teaching. Eeeeeeew. You don't have to say it - I will!! And what's worse is my hair on some of these mornings. Sometimes it's homeless lady hair. Sometimes it's really God awful. And yet, I have very little shame. I behave this way. It's piggish. It's disgusting. And yet, since moving to suburbia, I find this behavior to be fine so long as no one knows (of course, now you all know). I guess I'll continue to do it unless I'm caught in the coffee shop looking (and possibly smelling) like a homeless woman by someone I actually care about. But the thing about suburbia is that it seems to me you're less likely to run into people you care might see you looking this way than in New York.
In New York, you immediately have your building elevator and/or lobby to contend with. Your neighbors are close to you. If you stepped out into the hallway looking and/or smelling bad, there is a very high chance that the cute professor down the hall will be waiting for the elevator or just stepping off of it. If you walk to the corner store to pick up milk, you are very likely to pass at least 5 people you know in the neighborhood who you might prefer not see you looking your worst. Dr. Ruth Westheimer, lived two doors down from me. I had gay male friends in the neighborhood. They are the absolute worst of critics. Even the gay men in the neighborhood I didn't particularly know would give you "the look" if your hair looked like a brillo pad. So, really, if you cared at all, you showered and brushed your damn hair before going outside.
I blame the cars here in suburbia. There's very little "walking to the store" here. You leave your house, where no one will see you but your immediately family and pets. You jump in your car. Again - no one to see you. You dive into the store where maybe you'll see a few people, but most of them are either too self-absorbed to notice how bad you look or they look just like you do cuz they're caught in the same routine. You grab the milk, the eggs, the whatever, and dive back into your car. You enter your house where there's no pressure that the cute guy on the 5th floor might see you and puke.
Yep, suburbia has taught me to dig in the dirt, take fewer showers and brush my hair less. Not sure I like it but I get to practice whenever I want, I work out in my basement, I love my garden and cardinals feed at my bird feeder. I do manage to shower and dress before my students show up, although they'll attest that sometimes I don't quite get to the hair and makeup. If they want me to always look good, they may have to wait till a celebrity or a gay man buys the house next door.
I now live in suburbia. Suburbia in New Jersey. It's not Nirvana but it has it's definite selling points. For starters, there's space. I have suffered a need for space for a long time. I lived with a lover in New York for several years in a studio apartment. That probably started it. Then I got a spacious, sun filled, 1 bedroom in the aforementioned building. It had an eat-in kitchen and a deep soaking tub. For a single girl living in Manhattan, I'd hit the jackpot. This was loads of space for me. But then I met my husband and, once again, I wanted more space. When his job had him commuting between Princeton and New York, we figured we needed to move to some location between the two points. That's how we ended up buying a house in Middlesex County. I fell in love with the house because it too was pre-war. It had the familiar plaster walls, the high ceilings, old oak floors. It felt somehow familiar, and since I've never lived in suburbia, I needed familiar. I needed something to link me to my Nirvana. This house was it.
I instantly fell in love with the concept of gardening. I love putting things in the ground, caring for them and then watching them bloom. For a city girl like me, this seems like some kind of miracle. I used to frequent the garden in Ft. Tryon Park and admire the blooms, photographing the butterflies and the people on benches, the George Washington Bridge, the Hudson. It was all breath taking and wonderful, but now I am experiencing nature's beauty from a much more hands-on experience. Digging in the earth, putting in the seeds and bulbs, watering them, weeding them, then watching them grow into gorgeous, colorful flowers. That seems miraculous to me. Before, I just thought these things appeared around me, as if by magic. But now that I am responsible for picking them, placing them and cultivating them, I realize how much I took for granted in my beautiful uptown park.
I am now getting to the crux of the problem I'm having today. In the midst of all this beauty and nature, I have noticed a disturbing trend in my personal upkeep. When I lived in New York I would never leave the apartment without makeup. I would never "just bum it". Even if I went out in jeans, they were always neat jeans and a cool top and good hair or a cap. I just wouldn't dare just run out of the apartment any old way. Not even to throw out the garbage.
But something happened in suburbia. I would like to preface this next bit by saying this only happens once in a long while, but it does happen, and I should be more disgusted with my behavior, yet, oddly, I'm not. I have allowed myself to fall asleep late at night in my t-shirt (I know this is probably TMI but I'm blogging here). I awake, having not showered, having fallen asleep in my t-shirt, throw on a ratty pair of jeans or, worse yet, holey sweatpants. I grab the car keys, jump in the car, drive my husband to the train station, then sometimes I stop to pick up some coffee and lotto tickets. I come home, do a workout and THEN I shower before teaching. Eeeeeeew. You don't have to say it - I will!! And what's worse is my hair on some of these mornings. Sometimes it's homeless lady hair. Sometimes it's really God awful. And yet, I have very little shame. I behave this way. It's piggish. It's disgusting. And yet, since moving to suburbia, I find this behavior to be fine so long as no one knows (of course, now you all know). I guess I'll continue to do it unless I'm caught in the coffee shop looking (and possibly smelling) like a homeless woman by someone I actually care about. But the thing about suburbia is that it seems to me you're less likely to run into people you care might see you looking this way than in New York.
In New York, you immediately have your building elevator and/or lobby to contend with. Your neighbors are close to you. If you stepped out into the hallway looking and/or smelling bad, there is a very high chance that the cute professor down the hall will be waiting for the elevator or just stepping off of it. If you walk to the corner store to pick up milk, you are very likely to pass at least 5 people you know in the neighborhood who you might prefer not see you looking your worst. Dr. Ruth Westheimer, lived two doors down from me. I had gay male friends in the neighborhood. They are the absolute worst of critics. Even the gay men in the neighborhood I didn't particularly know would give you "the look" if your hair looked like a brillo pad. So, really, if you cared at all, you showered and brushed your damn hair before going outside.
I blame the cars here in suburbia. There's very little "walking to the store" here. You leave your house, where no one will see you but your immediately family and pets. You jump in your car. Again - no one to see you. You dive into the store where maybe you'll see a few people, but most of them are either too self-absorbed to notice how bad you look or they look just like you do cuz they're caught in the same routine. You grab the milk, the eggs, the whatever, and dive back into your car. You enter your house where there's no pressure that the cute guy on the 5th floor might see you and puke.
Yep, suburbia has taught me to dig in the dirt, take fewer showers and brush my hair less. Not sure I like it but I get to practice whenever I want, I work out in my basement, I love my garden and cardinals feed at my bird feeder. I do manage to shower and dress before my students show up, although they'll attest that sometimes I don't quite get to the hair and makeup. If they want me to always look good, they may have to wait till a celebrity or a gay man buys the house next door.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Beauty
I have ceased my quest for perfection. Many beautiful things are imperfect. I will now begin creating beauty and accept it's flaws as the necessary contrast required to bring out the perfection within the imperfections.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Life on Earth
People! We spend so much of our time here bemoaning the human condition. Bemoaning our fates. Some of us go as far as to wish for death and hope for a better after life. Sweet heaven, loving Lord, virgins, enlightenment, milk and honey - on and on we go about how much better it will be after we're on that other side. The side beyond the light.
But what if what's actually happening is that we all clamored and begged and lined up to come here? What if all us souls were somewhere else - bodiless and bored. Perhaps we were fine enough. Happy enough. But without the ability to really feel, to run, to jump, to breath in and out. Without all that we felt incomplete. Maybe we entered a lottery or did favors to get here. Maybe we chose this - somewhere else. And maybe by not fully living each and every moment we're here we are cheating ourselves out of a huge opportunity. What if, despite the disease and the wars and the terrorism and racism and global warming, this is the pinnacle of what it means to be human and thus we have chosen to return here over and over again? What if the blessed other side is us?
But what if what's actually happening is that we all clamored and begged and lined up to come here? What if all us souls were somewhere else - bodiless and bored. Perhaps we were fine enough. Happy enough. But without the ability to really feel, to run, to jump, to breath in and out. Without all that we felt incomplete. Maybe we entered a lottery or did favors to get here. Maybe we chose this - somewhere else. And maybe by not fully living each and every moment we're here we are cheating ourselves out of a huge opportunity. What if, despite the disease and the wars and the terrorism and racism and global warming, this is the pinnacle of what it means to be human and thus we have chosen to return here over and over again? What if the blessed other side is us?
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Just call me DDR Super Dork! (lol)
OH MY GOD!! I AM OFFICIALLY A SUPER DORK!!
I know some of you have been waiting for me to post a new blog - Jen. So, something finally happened today that I feel a need to blog about.
I finally did it!! I did DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION!! I loved it! I freaking wanted to play all afternoon long except like I already felt like some loser degenerate adult skulking around the kiddy arcade at lunchtime waiting for no one to be watching before I guiltily put my four tokens into the slot and then attempted to encrypt the freaking JAPANESE WRITING ON THE FREAKING SCREEN... WTF??? Anyway, luckily, it's not that hard to figure out. I looked around to make sure no one was looking. There was a guy in his 50's or so shooting at something a few machines over (another obvious lunchtime lurker) and a guy in his 20's not too far away winking and smiling. I decided to ignore him cuz he seemed like a bigger loser than me sitting in his little race car game. 
I chose the Beginner level, followed the instructions and started. I looove this game! I want one for my house! I made it through the first two stages and got to the final stage but then I think I must have screwed up cuz the game ended. I haven't the foggiest what my score was. Except I guess I had to do relatively okay cuz there were lots of those pop up "good" or "perfect" flashes. I wanted to put in 4 more tokens but I didn't want to chance being spotted by anyone I knew so I fled like I was hiding a crack addiction or something. 
But... I'll be back...
Friday, March 16, 2007
PFO's
So, I was comparing notes with other auditioners. They call their rejection letters "PFO's" (I thought it meant Piss the Fuck Off, but I'm told it means Please Fuck Off. Either way, it means you've been rejected). In any case, I probably shouldn't feel bad because after comparing notes, it seems even many of the more seasoned and accomplished singers got like 100s of PFO's before seeing any real success. Maybe, if I hadn't spent so many years cringing from the PFO's I might be further along. If I'm honest with myself, I think the longest string of auditions I've ever done was probably a string of about 10 over the course of a month. And after 9 no's and 1 yes I was so drained that I stopped and didn't return to auditions for several more months. So, I have had a tendency to get discouraged by the rejections and then stop for a long period of time before returning.
If I'm further honest with myself, I've probably done only about 60 auditions or so ever. Of those, I probably got 15 - 20 of them. So, percentage wise, I'm actually not in bad shape. But the 40 or so rejections hit hard. I suppose what I'm learning is that I can't afford to get bent now and take any breaks. I have to do like 50 in a row this time and not even look back. If my more successful friends have had to withstand 100s of PFOs then I need not to get bent about 10 or 20 or them, if it comes to that.
At the moment, I seem to have one PFO and one non confirmed PFO. Onward.
:-)
If I'm further honest with myself, I've probably done only about 60 auditions or so ever. Of those, I probably got 15 - 20 of them. So, percentage wise, I'm actually not in bad shape. But the 40 or so rejections hit hard. I suppose what I'm learning is that I can't afford to get bent now and take any breaks. I have to do like 50 in a row this time and not even look back. If my more successful friends have had to withstand 100s of PFOs then I need not to get bent about 10 or 20 or them, if it comes to that.
At the moment, I seem to have one PFO and one non confirmed PFO. Onward.
:-)
Monday, March 12, 2007
Popping Pills
Okay, this morning I'm drinking a yogurt drink while popping vitamin B, D and A and also a Melatonin tablet and aspirin. That's 5 pills. As I'm doing this I'm thinking to myself, "I'm doing this cuz I've been feeling rundown lately and I want to put stuff in my body that will help me out and give me nutrients." But then I had this very morbid realization. I didn't need any "help" before. I felt perfectly fine and energetic without this crap. But something happened in the last few years where now my body needs "help". Despite trying to exercise and eat a varied and mostly healthy diet, making sure to include fruits and veggies each day plus fish a couple of times a week. Despite all this, I still have days when my body just feels like it's not quite functioning up to snuff. Something aches or I just feel sluggish. So I've started taking vitamins and baby aspirin daily cuz I am trying to feel better (the aspirin are to help thin my blood because I found out a couple years ago my platelets are big and I'm probably a candidate for clots).
So, after realizing that I am stuffing pills down my throat in order to feel better, I had a further panicky realization! "This is just practice for the real thing, isn't it!?" The vitamins and ocassional pain killer are just a warm up!! Your body starts to send little signals out that things are slightly off kilter so you'll reach for something in a bottle to help strengthen your immune system or help your hair and nails grow or loosen your blood so it won't clog you prematurely. But then one day you NEED things in little bottles - lots of them. Then it only gets worse!! This is just Act I!! By the time you get to Act IV, you're not shaking out little pills because you feel somewhat slow on the treadmill. No, now you're taking large pills because you can't pee normal or your eyes fog over or you can no longer digest oatmeal or your hand trembles uncontrollably when you're trying to open a jar of applesauce!! Oh My God!! My head starts to scream!! These vitamins and yogurt drink are the beginning of the slippery slope!! It's just a practice run!! Get used to little bottles and funny drinks cuz that's where we're all headed eventually!!
And now, I would like to apologize for that completely irresponsible and insensitive freak out.
So, after realizing that I am stuffing pills down my throat in order to feel better, I had a further panicky realization! "This is just practice for the real thing, isn't it!?" The vitamins and ocassional pain killer are just a warm up!! Your body starts to send little signals out that things are slightly off kilter so you'll reach for something in a bottle to help strengthen your immune system or help your hair and nails grow or loosen your blood so it won't clog you prematurely. But then one day you NEED things in little bottles - lots of them. Then it only gets worse!! This is just Act I!! By the time you get to Act IV, you're not shaking out little pills because you feel somewhat slow on the treadmill. No, now you're taking large pills because you can't pee normal or your eyes fog over or you can no longer digest oatmeal or your hand trembles uncontrollably when you're trying to open a jar of applesauce!! Oh My God!! My head starts to scream!! These vitamins and yogurt drink are the beginning of the slippery slope!! It's just a practice run!! Get used to little bottles and funny drinks cuz that's where we're all headed eventually!!
And now, I would like to apologize for that completely irresponsible and insensitive freak out.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The Tequileria!!
OH!! Almost forgot!!! Yesterday, at the airport, coming back from my audition in St. Petersburg, FL, this CUTE guy bought me a drink. That almost never happens to me. I mean, I see myself as the fat chick who guys don’t want to go near. Right? They don’t see me at the bar and offer to buy me drinks!! But we sat and had a very lovely chat. He seemed sweet. Actually, what’s weird is that by the time we got done talking I gave him my card. Not cuz I’m hoping to make him my next conquest, but cuz I just freaking liked him. I thought to myself, “if I’m ever back in St. Pete’s, this guy seems like he’d be nice to hang out with”. Really. It’s strange. I used to be so flattered if someone flirted with me that I’d immediately think “I wonder if…” but I guess I’m growing up. I just want friends. I know men supposedly don’t think that way and he probably was thinking he wanted to grab my boobs or something. But that won't happen cuz he strikes me as a lothario. He probably nails everyone he can get his hands on, so I really wouldn’t want to be made into another “notch”. But he also seemed smart, well traveled, cute, very witty and, from all he said, he knows where all the hot places are to have fun down there. So I hope he rings me or emails me cuz I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him if I were to end up down there.
Despite knowing I didn’t do the greatest audition, I am still holding out a tiny bit of hope that they say through my nerves and my rolls of fat and somehow, through the grace of God, have decided to give the fat chick a role in their little opera house.
Despite knowing I didn’t do the greatest audition, I am still holding out a tiny bit of hope that they say through my nerves and my rolls of fat and somehow, through the grace of God, have decided to give the fat chick a role in their little opera house.
2 down, 298 more to go
I studied for a while with a voice teacher who didn't really do a freaking thing for my voice, but she had been a big diva for a few years - very famous. She told me how the year before she finally got her big break she'd been to like 300 auditions and gotten rejected pretty much that many times. She worked on her technique diligently and then, suddenly started getting acceptances (but still a few rejections, she admitted).
So, after hiding for a year, I've decided I'm just going to audition until I just can't do it anymore. I just did 2 this week. The first one went REALLY well. But already I got a call saying they aren't offering me a role. That one is actually sort of understandable. My husband was with me. He said it sound glorious from outside. They have a small hall and, quite frankly, my voice seemed too big. He said you could hear me clearly outside where as the next person (I was still getting my things together) you could only sort of hear them through the door. So, I don't feel bad about that rejection. I sensed while I was singing that they liked me and they even asked questions about my availability. But maybe they did decide it would be too much for their small space.
Then I just came back from doing another. That one I don't feel as good about. I've never ever done well in auditions where you have to stand around waiting. And this was one of those. I was waiting in the hall with the other singers for 2 hours. I have got to figure out what happens when I have to wait the gets my voice a little out of my body. I didn't sing badly. I sang pretty well. But it wasn't my best. There were moments when I knew I wasn't fully anchored and moments when I could hear some of my old bad habits creeping in. It just wasn't good enough to nail the job, in my opinion. They were sweet and gracious but somehow I don't think I got it.
BUT, I will say this. It used to be if I did an audition that didn't go well or if I did ANY audition, I'd be freaking out completely for the next few days. I think that's getting better. Don't get me wrong, I have a little of that going on and I had a shot of tequila on my way home to take the edge off. Then I started thinking how I've been at this forever and still have nothing approaching success and I wanted to drown myself in a bottle. BUT, this morning I'm relatively okay and ready to get back in the saddle. I'm being methodical.
I have to keep strengthening the breathing (which I realized a couple of months ago has never reeeaally been completely right). Since I started doing those new exercises I have been making huge strides in overcoming the two big knocks on my voice. The two biggest knocks on my voice for yeeeeeears have been that there’s a flutter in the sound (this has been greatly smoothed but when I’m nervous, like in an audition, it still has a tendency to rear it’s hideous head) and that my middle and low notes do not match the top. This has all but been solved in the past few months. I just realized I probably shouldn’t get too down on myself for not landing the auditions I just did because, in truth, I’m making progress despite the lack of success. It used to be I’d go into an audition with a big fat aria and you’d hear all my high notes but my lower notes and middle notes had no freedom, sometimes sounded held back and the middle mix was non-existent. There really was a huge break there. My coach agrees that in the past 2 months these things are all but resolved. However, it will probably take a handful of auditions more before it translates under pressure. I'm trying not to let that stop me.
So, after hiding for a year, I've decided I'm just going to audition until I just can't do it anymore. I just did 2 this week. The first one went REALLY well. But already I got a call saying they aren't offering me a role. That one is actually sort of understandable. My husband was with me. He said it sound glorious from outside. They have a small hall and, quite frankly, my voice seemed too big. He said you could hear me clearly outside where as the next person (I was still getting my things together) you could only sort of hear them through the door. So, I don't feel bad about that rejection. I sensed while I was singing that they liked me and they even asked questions about my availability. But maybe they did decide it would be too much for their small space.
Then I just came back from doing another. That one I don't feel as good about. I've never ever done well in auditions where you have to stand around waiting. And this was one of those. I was waiting in the hall with the other singers for 2 hours. I have got to figure out what happens when I have to wait the gets my voice a little out of my body. I didn't sing badly. I sang pretty well. But it wasn't my best. There were moments when I knew I wasn't fully anchored and moments when I could hear some of my old bad habits creeping in. It just wasn't good enough to nail the job, in my opinion. They were sweet and gracious but somehow I don't think I got it.
BUT, I will say this. It used to be if I did an audition that didn't go well or if I did ANY audition, I'd be freaking out completely for the next few days. I think that's getting better. Don't get me wrong, I have a little of that going on and I had a shot of tequila on my way home to take the edge off. Then I started thinking how I've been at this forever and still have nothing approaching success and I wanted to drown myself in a bottle. BUT, this morning I'm relatively okay and ready to get back in the saddle. I'm being methodical.
I have to keep strengthening the breathing (which I realized a couple of months ago has never reeeaally been completely right). Since I started doing those new exercises I have been making huge strides in overcoming the two big knocks on my voice. The two biggest knocks on my voice for yeeeeeears have been that there’s a flutter in the sound (this has been greatly smoothed but when I’m nervous, like in an audition, it still has a tendency to rear it’s hideous head) and that my middle and low notes do not match the top. This has all but been solved in the past few months. I just realized I probably shouldn’t get too down on myself for not landing the auditions I just did because, in truth, I’m making progress despite the lack of success. It used to be I’d go into an audition with a big fat aria and you’d hear all my high notes but my lower notes and middle notes had no freedom, sometimes sounded held back and the middle mix was non-existent. There really was a huge break there. My coach agrees that in the past 2 months these things are all but resolved. However, it will probably take a handful of auditions more before it translates under pressure. I'm trying not to let that stop me.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
You make me drunk
Dear God,
There are things in this world that have the power to fix me right up no matter what ails me.
In no particular order...
Communing with nature either alone or with a good friend or special lover
A good, hard, sweaty workout
Singing to my highest potential
Dancing without a care
Making love with someone who leaves you feeling listless, drunk and grinning
Thank you for that power.
Seel.
There are things in this world that have the power to fix me right up no matter what ails me.
In no particular order...
Communing with nature either alone or with a good friend or special lover
A good, hard, sweaty workout
Singing to my highest potential
Dancing without a care
Making love with someone who leaves you feeling listless, drunk and grinning
Thank you for that power.
Seel.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Anna Nicole Smith
Okay, I know that Anna Nicole's life and lifestyle made her an object of much ridicule and disrespect. I admit that I chuckled a time or two at her antics. A lot of the time the joke was on her and we all enjoyed that because it made us feel better about ourselves. But, seriously, are we animals waiting to feed on another's misfortune and grief? Are we so lacking in our hearts that we cannot step back and see this for the sad misfortune it is?
From the reports, it seems that whatever it is that ended her life, it was precipitated by great grief. She may have literally died of a broken heart. The pain of her son's death overtook her. And now, greedy, grubby hands will forever spend their time trying to use that baby girl as a pawn. Her life will never be her own. That child has been born into grief. I see a sad, sad situation all around. Not one to point fingers at and enjoy watching.
Have we managed to sink even lower than the people whose lives we find so entertaining?
Enough already.
DATING ADVICE ;-)
Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!! I have the BEST idea I've had in a long time. How I wish throngs of people visited my blog!! This is good advice. Women need to heed it.
Now, before I give my enlightened and brilliant advice, I want to explain how it came to pass. For starters, I was on the phone talking to a male friend who was telling me how he and his buddy go this strip joint almost every week. My jaw dropped. They're in their 20s, fairly good looking with okay jobs but they're spending more than they make at these strip clubs!! I am in awe that they would do this. Then, I spoke to another friend of mine who said that at one time in his life he easily dropped $400 a night at one of these clubs. (And, for the record, most of my male friends are not stripper club enthusiasts.) I myself have NEVER been inside one but I'm mildly curious. I would go some night and check it out... why not? It could be interesting.
So, I'm in the car coming back from dinner with some friends and we drive past this one "gentlemen's club" with a full parking lot. I'm floored. What the f***!? Do this many people go to these places nightly??? And then it hit me... what a great freaking idea!
I have several pretty, intelligent friends who have been single for an average of 4 years between them. They've tried online dating, going out to various outings, being set up, book clubs, ski clubs, you name it. Still, they come back with the nightmare stories. He couldn't open doors, wasn't polite, talked about himself endlessly, smelled bad, yada, yada, yada...
Women of America!! Stop wasting your time chasing men who may not even want you! You are missing out on a valuable resource! All over America there are clubs filled with men who WANT a woman. Yeah, probably not YOU, but trust me - they WANT a woman. They're just too lazy or chicken or socially awkward to go get one the normal way and so they sit and fantasize at these strip joints. CAPITALIZE!! You have a captive audience available for your whims. I say you all start showing up to strip clubs in smart little enclaves. Dressed sexy, but not desparate. (You probably can't compete with the strippers anyway so don't dress the part.) But you're a real girl and you're there and you're available, which is not true of the strippers. When those horny-as-hell guys get tired of trying to get the 44D Barbie doll to go home with them you're gonna start looking like a pretty good deal. And girls, these are not cheap men! Remember, they probably drop, on average, $250 a night at these places so if you can get him to walk you to your car and take your number there might be some nice dates ahead (possibly to classier strip joints, but I digress...).
So, there you have it! My advice is to put on your cleavage suit, swallow some liquor and smile as you sit in a gentlemen's club and cooly await your chance to save some shmuck from more expensive and fruitless pursuits while nabbing yourself a potential mate!
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
COMEBACK TRAIL...
Okay, so after spending most of a year cowering in my studio, convinced I can't sing well enough to be doing auditions (I go through this lack of confidence much too regularly), I had a chat with my ex-manager and she reignited my fire. Last night I sent out materials to two companies and today I called a small local company and threw my hat in for an audition. None of these are career building companies but I have to get my feet wet again somewhere... I can't just sit here and languish for another year!
Thank you, Martha. That's why she is a great manager and a great friend.
Thank you, Martha. That's why she is a great manager and a great friend.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Piss off.
I've just sent an email to my sister telling her to piss off. I know this is supposed to be my "happy" blog where I only write things that are good and positive but I decided that, in theory, this could be a good thing. I'll explain why.
My whole life I've been one of those beggars. You know the type. People who feel they need to grovel for affection. The first to apologize when something's gone wrong in a relationship. The first to take the blame, even if it's not our fault. The one to send the tortured emails and phone calls while the other person plays it cool. That's been me my whole life. Trying to save a relationship despite the other person's lack of participation.
But I've had it with that and maybe it's a good thing that my most important relationship has come to this. I've been closer to my sister than anyone else on this earth and I've cared for her more than anyone too. But, now that all this has happened I think some light is making its way into my brain. My sister has always known how to lie and manipulate me to her liking and to her needs. It's ridiculous that I never noticed until this past year, but its finally beginning to sink in. Maybe this has all happened for the better and I just don't know that yet.
It's hard for me to watch my sister float away from me like a life raft floats away from a sinking man. It hurts. But maybe now I have to swim to shore and maybe that will be good for me.
Anyway, after spending weeks trying to figure out why she's shutting me out and rallying against her no-good boyfriend, I've decided to tell her to piss off. I'm not begging for table scraps from her. I've had it.
My whole life I've been one of those beggars. You know the type. People who feel they need to grovel for affection. The first to apologize when something's gone wrong in a relationship. The first to take the blame, even if it's not our fault. The one to send the tortured emails and phone calls while the other person plays it cool. That's been me my whole life. Trying to save a relationship despite the other person's lack of participation.
But I've had it with that and maybe it's a good thing that my most important relationship has come to this. I've been closer to my sister than anyone else on this earth and I've cared for her more than anyone too. But, now that all this has happened I think some light is making its way into my brain. My sister has always known how to lie and manipulate me to her liking and to her needs. It's ridiculous that I never noticed until this past year, but its finally beginning to sink in. Maybe this has all happened for the better and I just don't know that yet.
It's hard for me to watch my sister float away from me like a life raft floats away from a sinking man. It hurts. But maybe now I have to swim to shore and maybe that will be good for me.
Anyway, after spending weeks trying to figure out why she's shutting me out and rallying against her no-good boyfriend, I've decided to tell her to piss off. I'm not begging for table scraps from her. I've had it.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Poem for a cause...
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SERIOUS RANT AHEAD.
Put on your helmets. This is going to be a long rant so I hope if you're reading this you have some time.
I am not a good girl. There. I said it. I have never been a good girl. Although, for a while I tried to pretend to be one. In college and then in adulthood, I have ocassionally lapsed into trying to be a "good girl." But you know what I finally realized? It makes me angry. I'm angry about the fact that society teaches girls to be "good". I don't mean good in a don't-steal-things-or-kill-people way. I mean good in a "be pretty and slim and sit there quietly making few if any waves" kind of way. I think that as long as women continue to expend loads of energy and countless millions of dollars bending and shaping themselves into a stereotypical image few of us can attain, we will forever be at the mercy of a male driven society.
Is this a feminist, man hating rant? No. Not at all. There are so many great men out there doing good service. Even the ones who I don't particularly like or agree with. My problem isn't with them at all. I actually think we stand to learn a lot from them. Most men don't apologize for being human. I actually sort of admire that about them, although some of them have taken that too far and could use a swift kick in the butt (we won't get into that now). A man can cure cancer, have 5 affairs with teenage bimbettes, be a bad drunk and neglect his children and somehow, he still makes it into the hall of fame for his good accomplishments. We'd bow at his feet for curing cancer and pretend none of the other stuff happened. If you look at history, there are countless examples. But women are not afforded this luxury. We have somehow been put in the position of needing to be morally superior and visions of walking art as well. If a woman is highly intelligent and has much to offer the world, she is expected to behave with the utmost decorum. Any news of behavior that is somewhat off-color will likely blemish her accomplishments as well. Why is this?
And if your life's ambitions lead you to behave too much like men have throughout the ages, you get dubbed a bitch, or unwomanly or... Hillary Clinton.
It seems to me that, while our society is driven by men, it is we women who perpetuate the stereotypes. We love to gossip and go on about people's private lives. And we are usually the first to turn our backs on a female neighbor or friend who has been caught behaving less than impeccably. Meanwhile we expect men to misbehave. We do. Even though it angers us and disgusts us, we expect it. We've come to expect it to the point of accepting it. But we don't extend ourselves the same courtesy of accepting human foibles as just that. "Oh, Susan ran off with the gardner?" Instead of gasping and clutching the table linen, we should send her good wishes for a brighter future. Perhaps this is a turning point for her. She hasn't gone insane - she's having a crisis. We should hope she hasn't given up her private practice or sold her ranch or stopped working on that research project and wish her the best. I guess I'm saying women need to start sticking together. The good ole boys club exists because men figured this out a long time ago. They don't sit there with their jaws dropped to the floor and eyes wide open. They chuckle about those human frailties, have a cigar or a beer and business moves forward. And besides, Susan's husband was carrying on with the mail room clerk, but that hasn't come to light yet.
So my rant is really about how women need to spend less time pretending to be morally superior and start supporting each other more. We'd all get ahead much faster if we tried to adopt that behavior from the guys. They may sometimes be emotionally retarded neanderthals but if you haven't noticed, for the most part, they're in charge. If we want to make some headway, we need to get with the program.
I am not a good girl. There. I said it. I have never been a good girl. Although, for a while I tried to pretend to be one. In college and then in adulthood, I have ocassionally lapsed into trying to be a "good girl." But you know what I finally realized? It makes me angry. I'm angry about the fact that society teaches girls to be "good". I don't mean good in a don't-steal-things-or-kill-people way. I mean good in a "be pretty and slim and sit there quietly making few if any waves" kind of way. I think that as long as women continue to expend loads of energy and countless millions of dollars bending and shaping themselves into a stereotypical image few of us can attain, we will forever be at the mercy of a male driven society.
Is this a feminist, man hating rant? No. Not at all. There are so many great men out there doing good service. Even the ones who I don't particularly like or agree with. My problem isn't with them at all. I actually think we stand to learn a lot from them. Most men don't apologize for being human. I actually sort of admire that about them, although some of them have taken that too far and could use a swift kick in the butt (we won't get into that now). A man can cure cancer, have 5 affairs with teenage bimbettes, be a bad drunk and neglect his children and somehow, he still makes it into the hall of fame for his good accomplishments. We'd bow at his feet for curing cancer and pretend none of the other stuff happened. If you look at history, there are countless examples. But women are not afforded this luxury. We have somehow been put in the position of needing to be morally superior and visions of walking art as well. If a woman is highly intelligent and has much to offer the world, she is expected to behave with the utmost decorum. Any news of behavior that is somewhat off-color will likely blemish her accomplishments as well. Why is this?
And if your life's ambitions lead you to behave too much like men have throughout the ages, you get dubbed a bitch, or unwomanly or... Hillary Clinton.
It seems to me that, while our society is driven by men, it is we women who perpetuate the stereotypes. We love to gossip and go on about people's private lives. And we are usually the first to turn our backs on a female neighbor or friend who has been caught behaving less than impeccably. Meanwhile we expect men to misbehave. We do. Even though it angers us and disgusts us, we expect it. We've come to expect it to the point of accepting it. But we don't extend ourselves the same courtesy of accepting human foibles as just that. "Oh, Susan ran off with the gardner?" Instead of gasping and clutching the table linen, we should send her good wishes for a brighter future. Perhaps this is a turning point for her. She hasn't gone insane - she's having a crisis. We should hope she hasn't given up her private practice or sold her ranch or stopped working on that research project and wish her the best. I guess I'm saying women need to start sticking together. The good ole boys club exists because men figured this out a long time ago. They don't sit there with their jaws dropped to the floor and eyes wide open. They chuckle about those human frailties, have a cigar or a beer and business moves forward. And besides, Susan's husband was carrying on with the mail room clerk, but that hasn't come to light yet.
So my rant is really about how women need to spend less time pretending to be morally superior and start supporting each other more. We'd all get ahead much faster if we tried to adopt that behavior from the guys. They may sometimes be emotionally retarded neanderthals but if you haven't noticed, for the most part, they're in charge. If we want to make some headway, we need to get with the program.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words... --Emily Dickinson
Today I have been practicing and, while I can feel resistance in the muscles at the back of my tongue, I suddenly feel like the voice I've always known exists inside my throat is actually making new attempts to unleash itself from my body. After so many years of grappling with this thing I feel that I might just manage to sing well enough to satisfy myself and make some recordings of myself I don't absolutely dread. Maybe I'll even enjoy listening to them.
Earl, the Shaman from the Ferry to St. George's in Bermuda, sent me a message of hope. He said I should have the patience of Job because something I've been wanting to happen for a long time will finally happen if I am just patient. Well, I believe that Earl is a messenger of God. When I left Newark airport on my way to Bermuda I couldn't understand the purpose of that trip. It wasn't a particularly fun island, Rich and I are losing all romance between us and I have been dull and lifeless regarding my life and my future. Nothing about going to Bermuda was particular exciting or happy. But, I know that all things in this life have a purpose. Earl, the Shaman was in Bermuda and I had to meet him on that ferry to receive his message. Honestly, I could not have foreseen that a ferry ride to St. Georges would have yielded such a message. And I count myself lucky for being there to receive it because I've started practicing again as if I have a purpose in continuing to sing.
Perhaps my voice is meant to be heard after all?
I suppose we shall see as we go along.
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words... --Emily Dickinson
Today I have been practicing and, while I can feel resistance in the muscles at the back of my tongue, I suddenly feel like the voice I've always known exists inside my throat is actually making new attempts to unleash itself from my body. After so many years of grappling with this thing I feel that I might just manage to sing well enough to satisfy myself and make some recordings of myself I don't absolutely dread. Maybe I'll even enjoy listening to them.
Earl, the Shaman from the Ferry to St. George's in Bermuda, sent me a message of hope. He said I should have the patience of Job because something I've been wanting to happen for a long time will finally happen if I am just patient. Well, I believe that Earl is a messenger of God. When I left Newark airport on my way to Bermuda I couldn't understand the purpose of that trip. It wasn't a particularly fun island, Rich and I are losing all romance between us and I have been dull and lifeless regarding my life and my future. Nothing about going to Bermuda was particular exciting or happy. But, I know that all things in this life have a purpose. Earl, the Shaman was in Bermuda and I had to meet him on that ferry to receive his message. Honestly, I could not have foreseen that a ferry ride to St. Georges would have yielded such a message. And I count myself lucky for being there to receive it because I've started practicing again as if I have a purpose in continuing to sing.
Perhaps my voice is meant to be heard after all?
I suppose we shall see as we go along.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Dance Idea!
I've always loved to dance and move. Always. But my life seems to put me in situations where I am fairly sedentary. The one time I lost loads of weight I was taking this class I LOOOOOVED in New York. An African dance class. I sweat like a pig. I mean, you're likely to work out longer if you're enjoying your work out. You tend to cut it short when you're not too into it. Right? So, I've decided that the only way I will get in a good workout at least once a week (I can do not-so-good workouts the rest of the week) is to go to a dance class. Now, in order to do this, I will have to get to New York. Out here in the burbs, dance seems to be just for the kids. It's such a stupid narrow mentality out here. No creativity. Anyway, I just found a place that seems perfect and I'm psyched!!
Friday, January 5, 2007
The Notebook
I'm watching the movie, "The Notebook", I don't know how it turns out but I know one thing so far. Life is too short and too potentially wonderful to not live it by your gut. To not live it with gusto, with love and openness and trust in the divine nature of things.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Innate beliefs...
I am realizing that perhaps one of the things I need to work on is that I just don't believe in myself. I give up on myself. This is kind of scary to even write about because, in truth, I no longer know that I have the ability to believe in myself. So much many of my personals goals and dreams have turned to shit after years of dedicated, hard and dutiful work. It's not like I slacked. I worked hard and just didn't get the results I wanted. When you've had that kind of experience, you don't learn to believe in your efforts. Quite the opposite. So, I don't really know how I'm supposed to tackle this one.
I do know that, when talking to some of my friends who seem to always get what they're after, the one thing I do hear from them is that they don't spend too much time on things they realize aren't working. And maybe that's really been my problem. I will spend years trying to fix something that's not working. I've done it with relationships and my career. Perhaps what these people figure out early on is that sometimes things are meant to be and sometimes they're not. Maybe they have a keener sense of what's working and what's not and they walk away from whatever isn't and stick with the things they realize are working. In this way, they seem like constant winners. Everytime I turn my head, there is so and so, achieving something great. But when I speak to her and ask her why her answer might be, "well, I tried this and dropped it, then that, and dropped it, but when I tried this, it seemed to be working out well so I stuck with it and - voila!" And perhaps that is the lesson I need to hurry up and learn.
I stick with broken things, trying to repair them far longer than is prudent.
I do know that, when talking to some of my friends who seem to always get what they're after, the one thing I do hear from them is that they don't spend too much time on things they realize aren't working. And maybe that's really been my problem. I will spend years trying to fix something that's not working. I've done it with relationships and my career. Perhaps what these people figure out early on is that sometimes things are meant to be and sometimes they're not. Maybe they have a keener sense of what's working and what's not and they walk away from whatever isn't and stick with the things they realize are working. In this way, they seem like constant winners. Everytime I turn my head, there is so and so, achieving something great. But when I speak to her and ask her why her answer might be, "well, I tried this and dropped it, then that, and dropped it, but when I tried this, it seemed to be working out well so I stuck with it and - voila!" And perhaps that is the lesson I need to hurry up and learn.
I stick with broken things, trying to repair them far longer than is prudent.
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