The charmed life, part 2

It's a rainy day in Baltimore, and the walk to work this morning made me thankful I have some heavy duty rain boots and a new ebay bracelet to cheer me up today. I am taking the advice of the blog post I recommended in yesterday's post 10 Ways to a More Charmed Life, and wearing bright lipgloss as today's antidote to the drowned rat effect.

I remember a time in my life when being glamorous felt not only unattainable, but like the wrong thing to do, an inappropriate waste of energy, in a time when a 5 dollar vodka soda was a major expense, and being seen as an intelligent academic singer was more the image I was going for.

Now, I've realized I don't care if people think that being fixed up and looking good equals being dumb, I care that when I look at myself in the mirror as I'm practicing every day, I see a person who looks like she cares. A person who could walk confidently into a rehearsal be proud of her appearance. I care so much less what other people think of me than what I used to, but spend more time on myself, because I care about me. What a concept.

Caring about me has made me a better friend, a better singer, a much more alluring wife, a better decision maker about food, about clothes (aka, they actually look good on ME, not the people in the magazine),read more and better books, all of the above. When I say I care about myself, I guess I don't mean I am taking myself seriously, per se, but I think it means I expect the best from me. I hold myself to a high standard, and try not to let myself get away with silly stuff that is going to feel good in the moment but feel bad later. I am working on making time with friends a priority, which is tougher now than it used to be, because time with a person's husband is a big priority too. I fail myself a lot. I regularly say un-cute things, and eat too much of the really good stuff, and behave in a ridiculous way. But I am working on making those slip-ups fewer.

If I spent all day long doing exactly what I secretly want to do (not a secret any more, hello internet), I would be eating Martin's kettle-cooked potato chips by the industrial size bag, dreaming up new ways to eat more cheese and pasta (preferably together), watching Bravo, looking at Pinterest, and going on the odd shopping trip or voice lesson/coaching, and maybe doing some craft projects. Add to that signing contracts to sing Mimi at the Met and getting a pedicure and you've pretty much described my dream day. I am a lot more of a homebody than you may think. But part of that whole thing with having a good life is, I think, making an effort, which to me means: not letting myself down, not living in a way that would make me regret that I hadn't pushed myself a little.

Last night, I met Stu for a drink after work, and spent a good deal of time complaining about how hungry I am all the time because of this darn calorie counting. But I felt really proud of myself later for not giving into the allure of the truffle fries. It sure sucked when the ladies at the next table were brought plates of piping hot fries piled high, but it felt good when I entered my numbers at the end of the night and didn't have regrets. And soon, my stomach will shrink to normal size and I won't be as hungry. That's the wonderful thing about stomachs.

I love in the blog post I linked above how she mentions buying flowers. I bought some tulips the other day for like 4 dollars, and the amount of pleasure they have given me looking at them on my dining room table every day has been incredible. It makes me wonder why I don't just make a habit of it. In fact, maybe I will. Every day in life IS a special day, special enough to deserve flowers. I used to only buy flowers when we were having company, now I've vowed to buy them because I like them for me.

But if you came for dinner, I would get the extra-special flowers.

Have a charming day.

The Charmed Life

This was such a wonderful blog post-- GREAT advice. Feel good stuff!

Because I have no one to brag to but you!

Quite the departure from yesterday's angsty post, here I am declaring to you that something I learned in that lesson must be working.

I vocalized up to an F-sharp above high C, people!!!!!! First time since, well, Freshman year of college, back in my innocent adolescence.

Yes. Life could be worse.

The only constant is change

One of the things I love best about the craft/skill of singing is that no matter how accomplished you are, there is always something you could do better. Every working singer I know still has a teacher who acts as their ears. Someone to help with little glitches here and there, fixing this or that when a role hasn’t fit perfectly into their voice, or building for one that is a little beyond their current level.

It is also one of the things that my type-A self finds most frustrating about singing. The sense that I will never be finished, and that someone will always have some advice, or something to add.

For years, I’ve gotten feedback, various good and bad. And you know when there are things you have to take to heart and things that you should ignore, because it doesn’t seem to be coming from the right place of genuine concern for your career. The weird thing about singing is that it is a discipline that seems to have a lot of non-specific, non descript lingo that people throw around and can mean a lot of different things. So, when someone says something like “Its sounds like you’re singing from behind a door,” how do I take that feedback to my teacher and figure out how to fix that problem? You pretty much can’t. You just wonder what’s wrong with you that apparently everyone notices but no one knows how to fix.

The other day I had a lesson that felt like everything I had been hearing from competition judges, coaches, etc., somehow added up to exactly what this person said I was missing, but no one had ever been able to articulate in any real way that I understood, much less offered a solution for addressing it. The odd thing is that I have always more readily accepted criticism and declarations of my own vocal lack than I have positive affirmations of my singing. Maybe it was because instinctively, I have always known something was not quite right.

It is so hard to trust when what you hear you will need to do to correct this is hard to accomplish, uncomfortable, very scary, and actually, different than anything you have ever heard, that it is really the right path to take. While I did not immediately have an emotional reaction, I found myself tearing up throughout the day, feeling just generally kind of verklempt, wondering if I was ever going to be able to figure out how to really sing. The more I went over it in my head, and listened to the recording, the more I knew it made a lot of sense. I should have been thankful that someone finally told me what I’d been needing to hear, but instead I kind of felt sorry for myself. Am I really here again? What the heck, I thought. I’m ready to be the finished product.

So all this time I’ve been writing about facing my fears, and I’m being given an actual way to put it into practice. Oh, and the other thing—I weighed myself today for the first time in seven years. It was worse than I thought. But I'm REALLY motivated now. I think 2012 is going to be a year of change and reevaluation.

The other thing I’m wondering is how I could possibly be dumb enough to put all of this on the internet for all of you to read!

A really wonderful post you should read

Here it is, from our beloved Jean-Ronald, vocal blogger extraordinaire.

We have to believe in hard work. It always pays off.

Weight a second

I'm hesitant even to mention this, because it's kind of annoying to talk about calories. But the truth is, your girl is trying to lose a couple lbs before going onstage as opera's sexiest crazy person: Donna Elvira. The challenges for me so far have been: wine, well, wine, and thirdly wine. Also, time. Before I started rehearsing and coaching all this, I had a lot more time to make it to my yoga classes, and now I'm trying to make up for it by just walking reallly reallllly fast back and forth to work. I'm also using a fabulous little tool introduced to me by the marvelous Stu called My Fitness Pal, where you can log all your caloric intake and exercise and keep track of how you're doing each day. It's been amazing.

Except for one thing. I do not have the courage to weigh myself. I honestly don't think I've stepped on a scale in about 7 years, not counting the doctor's office, where I avert my eyes and I command the nurse not to tell me my weight. The problem is, when I have weighed my self in the past, its thrown me into a week long depression, the likes of which even wine and fabulous girlfriends, shopping and shoes cannot cure. In an act of supreme contradiction, I would eat cake or something silly like that, and then feel even worse.

So I have no concrete proof of how well I'm doing or not, just the vague notion that my clothes are fitting better. It's so ridiculous. Not to even mention the fact that my wardrobe consists mainly of skirts and leggings. The one being stretchy and other other not at all fitted, so it is silly to even consider them a way to judge. Of all the truly ballsy things I can do (including driving in Boston by myself) and have done, stepping on a scale is beyond my fortitude level.

I think I am just going to have to do it, and stop being silly.

I did discover this: singing opera for an hour (aka a coaching or rehearsal) burns 132 calories for a person of average build.

Not bad, eh?

Oh my gosh, it's Fat Tuesday

Soundtrack while walking/dancing swiftly to work: Fergie

I was walking swiftly because I am trying to burn lots of calories. And I must admit after that amazing yoga class last night, my hips feel so loose, I was swinging them provocatively, basically dancing down the street like a lunatic. Sometimes Fergie really hits the spot.

My aria coaching (Mi tradi, etc.) with the conductor went better than I had hoped. I was a bit concerned, because my church jobs on Sunday morning tire me out so, and the idea that I would not be well-rested when singing these arias for the conductor for the first time (and they are so scary to begin with) was a little bit of a freak-out. But I put my big opera-singer girl panties on and just walked in and did it. It was so much fun. And while I still have plenty of work to do, I feel like I can do it. And unlike last time, I will not lose sleep.

Tonight, instead of drinking like a fish to celebrate the night before Lent (which also sounds very appealing), I'll be going to my voice lesson. I am so excited to listen to music and memorize as I drive.

That being said, I am certainly hoping you are all on Pinterest. I think it might be the number one most fun thing ever. I'm thinking about starting one for this blog, just to make it even more ridiculous than it already is...adding Pioneer Woman must-have recipes, quotable quotes, fabulous outfits, and the like!

Donna Elvira: think totally nuts, and you'll be fine

Because of some major snafus this morning with me just being completely out of it, I got a late start to my coaching. So I had to drive at an obscenely high and unsafe speed to get there on time. The problem being compounded of course, by another snafu—no gas in my car. Joe would never be so careless as to leave a car without gas—no, it was my own fault—I’d left it with very little after getting home from yet another singing related drive, and hadn’t had the energy to fill it up last night.

Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t catch on fire, I was moving so fast around all that gasoline at the gas station. It was insane. And I had to pee, but I didn’t dare stop to go. And I hadn’t eaten. Ask any of my close associates what the worst combination of problems in my life could be, and they will tell you: late, hungry, have to pee. No, seriously, there was this one time in Philadelphia…

Okay, that’s a story for another time, or, actually, never. It will go to my grave with me.

But I did get there on time, only to arrive to hear one of the most ethereally beautiful renditions of Mozart’s SECOND hardest aria: Et incarnatus est. I mean she really nailed it, and she NEVER had to breathe.

His first hardest is the one I had to sing directly after she left.

Mi tradi quell’alma ingrata.

The thing is, I don’t think it would be hard for any of the other women in the opera to sing. Zerlina could just chirp right through, and it would be a lowish walk in the park for Donna Anna. But for the voices that are most frequently cast in the role of Elvira, it can be a bit of a nail biter.

I think it’s because the rest of the arias we sing in Don Giovanni are a bit more, well, angry and loud. Full voiced singing is what feels good to me, I have really only just learned how to do it in the last couple of years (having been a bit of a default floater in the past), and I like to take that approach to all operatic rep. But Mi tradi is so much more complex. The whole scene really kind of shows how really double-minded Elvira is—she’s got some real issues, people. The recit requires that sort of singing, loud, very full in parts, but then, abruptly, a shift to the aria, lots of strings to keep up with underneath, and has to go very fast. It is the worst kind of pain to sing fast and switch between registers all throughout the range, and yet, it happens for about seven very exposed minutes, over and over again. So the only approach that seems to make sense so as not to kill oneself, is to go about it with a really free flow of air and light, light, light, not much weight. No getting bogged down, no worrying about the low bits, just keep the air flowing and use every single rest (oh wow, a second to actually REST?) to go back to, as I like to say, zero. Not to let any tension rise.

When I asked for any last advice before I sing it for the conductor, my coach said: “prayer.” And then burst into laughter and subsequently reassured me that the light concept was working, and that a bit more of the kookiness of the character needs to come in, with a sense of playing with the accidentals and some more “woohoo” nuttiness. It’s hilarious that just thinking about this makes my voice lighter and not weighted. But I will still need to pray as well. Sigh.

Now, isn’t that more than you ever wanted to know about an aria? Yes. Me too.

Soundtrack

Today’s soundtrack while going to work: Henri Mulet’s Carillon et Sortie. It is so pleasingly badass that it makes me feel fabulous and able to handle things in general. There is all this very low bass pedal action, and you just have to love that. Sometimes I think organists do not play things loud enough. They should play very loud, if at all possible. I am in love with the sensation of being surrounded and enveloped by sound. Of course, not every church is Paris Notre Dame, either. The reverb possibilities are not quite as extensive.

Oh my goodness, I’m not sure why, because I have been exhausted and broke most of the month, but I am just generally in such a great mood because Don Giovanni is going to be amazing. Also, when you need to learn music, it is especially great and fun when the music is Mozart. There are a lot of composers out there that I get a big kick out of, but his music…well, it makes me a better PERSON.

I’m not sure if Mozart would have really been thrilled that this is the effect it has on me. He may have wanted it to make me sluttier and drink more and have more fun. But in any case, I bet he would be pretty stoked to know that people still want to sing his stuff.

Defying security

"Defiance is necessary — defiance to the strongest gravity in the human world, the pull of security. That’s the force that sucks you into the couch to watch TV, that tells you the safest thing to say is nothing, that tells you to stay in tonight, not to wear red, and to wait for the other person to call."

Another thought from David's latest post at Raptitude.

Happy Valentines Day

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”
― Rumi

On the pleasure of knowing what you're doing (kind of)

I'm relearning Donna Elvira, for my second time around with this crazy beeyotch.

After being inspired by Madonna's ultimate fierceness last night at the half-time show, I was like, "AND NOW...I feel like singing some Donna Elvira!"

Listening to Don Giovanni this time was a different experience from the last time. It was more "THIS IS THE BEST MUSIC EVER" than "HOLY Sh**t, I am screwed." Because I know where all the pitfalls are and I've lived through them, and in front of a live audience, yet. And it was one of the most tiring and exhilarating experiences I've ever had, despite the fact that I was so worried about it that I couldn't sleep...but that's a story for another blog. I imagine it was a little like giving birth. Yeah, except minus the PAIN, I know...

If only this opera could include a large drum line and pom poms and egyptian soliders and a throne.

That being said, I still have my work cut out for me, getting it back into my voice and memory after three years, so exciting though.

And to brighten up your Monday, check out this young lady and her AWESOME outfit!

Thursday means we're more than halfway done

It's going to be one of those days-- I'm starving already and it's 10:47 am. Oh god.

But I have to say this adorable little outfit really made me happy, and I'm pretty sure I'll be ordering this skirt immediately if not sooner.

What I Wore!

In order to combat this ridiculous hungry moment, I will be:

1. NOT looking at cooking websites.
2. Drinking vile-tasting organic green tea to suppress appetite, while simultaneously bolstering immune system.
3. Finishing off the three or so remaining almonds in the tin in my drawer, then licking the container clean.

Monday Funday

Yesterday was a wash. I barely remember it. I touched down, picked up my too-big-for-the-overhead-compartment-so-it-had-to-be-checked carry-on, and there was Joe, bleary-eyed, waiting with the car to pick me up.

I barely made it through my solo at my second church job… for some reason, the gods saw fit to bless me with one that was an entire page of passagio singing and four full slow measures of repeated G5s. It is Murphy’s Law that of course this solo should occur in the rotation when I am at my most tired, most dehydrated, and most…zzzzzz wait, I fell asleep while I was typing that. When I got home, I threw my coat on the floor and got straight into bed, only to awaken about an hour before my evensong call.

At evensong rehearsal, I kept making embarrassing rhythmic mistakes and generally mortifying myself in front of the whole soprano section. I wanted to wear a sign that said: “Don’t mind me, I got up at 3:30 am.” The good news is that I did finally get it together for the service. The minute it was over, I practically ran to the nearby bar for a vodka and club soda. I’m pretty sure I’m not an alcoholic, but boy did that make all the difference in the world.

Today I made it to work, barely alive, hoarse of throat and dull of mind.

But I’m so glad to be home. I really love home.

Even the Lord doesn't get up this early...

I am coming to you from the airport...it's five-thirty am. I got up two hours ago, after drugging myself into a fitful sleep around 8:30 last night.

Why would I choose a flight this early? I was just asking myself the same thing. Then I remembered, oh yeah. Because I don't want to lose any more money this weekend, so I decided to try to fly back in time to make it for my second church job on Sunday. Oy vey.

Home is where a CVS is

When Joe and I took our trip to Italy and Spain a few years ago, we were in food heaven. Culture heaven, scenery heaven, history heaven. We were not in toiletries heaven. You'd be surprised what you didn't realize you might need during three weeks in Europe in the middle of the summer. That is when we developed our profound and enduring appreciation for a good old fashioned CVS. King of drug stores.

I made it to Beantown, drove myself from the airport to the hotel without incident, except when I realized I had no idea how to get the trunk of my rental car open. After a few minutes in the rain of looking inside and out, I found the miniscule button that apparently relased the hatch, a relief since I need my luggage INSIDE the hotel.

Being away for a singing thing can involve a hell of a lot of sitting around. Which is why I was thrilled beyond compare upon discovering that I was located directly next door to a Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, TJ Maxx, and, thanks be to God, a CVS. So I will have snacks and nailpolish to keep me company, and maybe some discount shopping!! Not that I really have any room in my bag to bring stuff back, but as with my last singing trip to Detroit, I get some of my best shopping done on these weekends away. Lots of time, depending on how I sing, lots of reasons to console myself with inappropriate purchases, no very bored husband to cater to.

So, I've taken a nap, read, typed to you, and hydrated. I have rehearsal in about two hours...so...maybe I'll check out the japanese place across the street.

Rumi: you know you needed some

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
― Rumi

Neurotics unite

One thing that really does not mix with my singing habit is my popcorn habit. When was the last time you heard someone say that? Yeah, exactly. But I love popcorn. Not the kind that has all the fake butter on it, or the movie theater kind...just the plain air-popped kind with salt. I eat it every night while watching TV if at all possible. I really feel that if I murdered someone and was going to the electric chair, and they asked me what my last meal should be, I would ask for popcorn as an appetizer. Which, considering that we live in a world that has truffles, artisan breads, french and italian cheeses, potatoes, and the list goes on and on, it is kind of weird that a simple thing like popcorn would make the list. But I love it.

Until a little piece of a kernel gets stuck in the side of my throat.

It has happened so many times, of course, that I have to pick these little guys out of my gums, that a term has developed to describe it: popcorn shrapnel.

But this morning when I woke up with that little pinching thing on one side of my throat, I was like, oh god, not now. Throat infection-a-rama, after everything that has happened already this month? Really? I am not going to describe the scene to you, as I reached down my own throat to try to get the little piece of shrapnel out. It wasn't elegant.

It probably would have dislodged itself on its own, but I would have been damned if I was going to take that chance with my exciting adventure coming up tomorrow, when I get to try to drive in Boston by myself. World's scariest city to drive in.

Today, I think I'll lay off the popcorn, have a coaching, go to work, teach, pack, and then go to bed early so that I don't look scary getting on the plane tomorrow.

Silent practice works

When my coach suggested silent practice last week because my recovery was going a bit slower than I would have liked, I sighed. I knew it was coming. I knew that was what I should do, but I just HATE IT. Afterall, I sing because :

1. I love the way it feels
2. I want to be heard

I'm preparing a new aria for a competition, and have experienced the level of anxiety only a crazy soprano the entire time I was sick, knowing I couldn't practice something that desperately needed practice. So, I had to do the whole speaking the text in rhythm thing, working on it from a dramatic standpoint, watching endless youtube versions to gain perspective.

And when I decided I was finally ready to sing it, and did, it had come a long way. So that's fun. All that wasted time hadn't been wasted...what do you know. It's good, too, because I have so much music to learn in the next two weeks. A fabulous and exciting Duparc duet for a recital, and oh yeah, to brush up Donna Elvira enough to bring back out in public for another show.

My Christmas present-- an Ipad (yippeeee skippeee and so over the gift amount limit we agreed on...but he never listens) has been so amazing when it comes to getting me mobile with all my music and recordings so that I can have a lot of stuff with me wherever I am to work on. I downloaded pdfs of all my pieces, and have the i-tunes tracks to get some work done during all that downtime during the competition this weekend. The only problem is that the Barenreiter Don Giovanni is not really available as a Kindle edition, so that's a drag. But I suppose I could scan various parts of it and download them. I am being rather lofty in my goals for this weekend, really, because of course, it is very possible I could do something stupid during my audition and embarrass myself to the point that I must console myself with food and trashy magazines.

After this next couple weeks is over and I am settling into the idea of only having to worry about Don Giovanni...I really need to go shopping...I think I lost my fabulous.

Friday

I now realize that my last post made actually very little sense. I am not surprised, to tell you the truth, my brain is addled with the various chemicals I have been giving it to get this infection out of its system! Yesterday, I had my first coaching since before Christmas (although I had others scheduled I had to cancel because of an inability to phonate), and it was a bit rough, but it felt good to know that no, I had in fact NOT done irreparable damage to my cords because of all the coughing. There were some moments of true worry, I must say.

So, I write my teacher an email that goes something like this:

"I have to sing in a competition in a week, and haven't practiced in two weeks. What do I do to get everything back in time??? AUGHHH I am scared!!!"

A few hours later I receive an email that goes something like this:

"You know what to do. Go slow, go easy, rest, hydrate, trust yourself."

So, basically, why, after 15 years of studying voice do I still feel compelled to ask someone else to tell me what to do???? It's not like I've never been in this situation! Trust myself. Wow, what a concept.

I am still in the stage of feeling I have to be very protective of my cords when I sing and I hate that, because it is as though I am not really doing myself any good by not leaning more on my voice. Why practice if you can't really practice, you know? It's hard to go slow. But I'll do it.

Rehabilitation Station

You never know how much NFCS means to you until you have a question about vocal cord damage due to coughing. You do a search, and it brings up literally zillions of entries about coughing. After reading a few hundred, you feel like you have the singer consensus about the situation. And now, well, you're even more confused than before.

Yesterday I started freaking out because I realized, "Oh my word, I feel just as horrible as I did five days ago!" And then I started to really worry that by now I had already coughed myself into a vocal injury, which is when, of course, the NFCS search debacle began. So I started calling doctors.

Finally, I got a hold of some antibiotics and today I'm feeling better, my voice is slowly coming back, but I'm still worried that I won't have my chops back for next week when I have to fly to the semi-finals of a competition.

Singers, what are your suggestions for me to get back up to snuff quickly without hurting myself? How do you recover muscle memory quickly after a long illness?

Relapse

Well, I got the cough. Good god, how long have I been sick again? I think it's been 13 days. The illness kind of changes everyday and it keeps tricking me into thinking I'm getting better. So today I wento the doctor, who promptly handed me some heavy duty cough syrup and said: "You have a cold-- there's one going around that lasts two weeks. I promise it will go away soon."

No antibiotics for me. No quick fix.

Right now, the cough has taken away my voice, and everytime that happens I wonder if it will ever come back. I think most singers worry about these things.

I am practicing acceptance of what is. And praying that I'm well for my gig tomorrow night.

I'd really like to be done now.

Master Class

Sometime ago, I vowed I was done singing in master classes. It was just too scary, and somehow gimmicky, you know, sing it the second time and of course it will be better. I always felt I learned more listening to the "master" work with the other singers than I did when it was me.

Then I got the opportunity to do this one, to sing for Frederica von Stade, mezzo-soprano extraordinaire, and scary or no, I figured I'd better not let that chance pass me by. I went for a coaching to kind of polish up my piece, and my adorable coach said when I told her what I was preparing for:

"Okay, so this is one of those times when you really want to not suck."

Pretty much.

So, I felt good about my choice of arias, and where it was vocally, things were looking good. Then I got sick. AAAHH

I almost cancelled. But I've learned that my voice is usually okay all but the worst day of the cold, as long as I don't get a cough. Coughs are the voice killer. Nasal congestion is actually oddly un-scary for my voice, unless whatever I am taking to help it dries me out, making singing uncomfortable. Thankfully, I didn't really have anything pressing to do, so I could spend lots of time (i.e. waste an entire week) drinking green tea and getting better. With lots of encouragement from Joe, and my dear Mrs. M, I finally realized how stupid it would be to NOT do this, and we got up early and left for CT early Friday morning.

The truly lucky thing about this master class experience was that I was singing on the same program with two other people who just happen to be two of my best friends. And for some reason, the hotel must have sensed the connection and booked us in connecting rooms. This came in very handy when I was curling my hair and realized I had forgotten hairspray.

Oh the other thing-- Why didn't anyone tell me how perfectly amazing parts of Connecticut can be?? It's perfectly idyllic!! I'm moving immediately. Well, when I win the lottery, that is.

We rehearsed with the pianist, appreciated the amazingness of the gorgeous New England church, and then spent a lot of time standing around awkwardly and being nervous. Getting ourselves mentally prepared to be ripped to shreds in front of an audience of blood thirsty opera fans. I thought I was ready-- I'd memorized the meaning of each italian word, and I'd brushed up on all the facts surrounding the opera my aria was excerpted from...then she arrived.

Elegant, poised. It's the kind of thing that takes years of being an incredibly successful operatic powerhouse to cultivate. And it made me think that it I hope I someday can approach that sort of elegance.

So we all went out into the house to sit together and await our turn.

It was packed. There were so many people.

Then Flicka began her opening remarks. She didn't spend any time telling everyone about her very long list of accolades and accomplishments. She told people what it was like to be US-- the nervous, freaked out singers-- she said that the voice is part of the human body, therefore imperfect, and subject to all of the emotions and experiences that human beings have. You can't put it away, you can't have it tuned. You are just you, whatever you have experienced, whatever you did the night before, whatever you had to drink, however sick with a cold you were. So, thanks to this grand lady, before we even began, the audience was on our side.

I was first. Oh man oh man oh man. It was like my entire nose and throat region had completely dried up. Dry as a gosh darn bone. I'm dying. The music starts and somehow I manage to sing some kind of version of the aria I was supposed to sing. No whammies. No whammies.

The minute she addressed me, I felt like I was going to be okay.

I loved that she didn't make us prove how much we knew, and then make us feel bad if we were so nervous that we couldn't remember our own names. Flicka shared what SHE knew.

We had the best time.

So now, it seems, there is even less of a reason to be a diva-ish, complaining soprano. Flicka didn't need it to get where she got. Let's redefine soprano-dom, shall we? Can't we please prove that you can get just as far being generous and kind as you can with being demanding and, well, insecure?

Talk about a master class.
You go girls.

starting the new year off right: hello, cold

Well, here I am, sitting in bed, I just woke up from a nap, trying desperately to sleep off my cold. Because there's this thing I realllllllyyy need to sing for on Friday night.

Gosh darn it.

I am practically floating in echinacea tea and green tea and seltzer water. My neti pot is glued to my right hand. I have eaten more mucinex than food, and all I can think about is blowing my nose.

Lord, I pray, don't let it turn into a cough.

Sorry to bitch. As some wiser people than me have said: this too shall pass.

2012: the year of getting out of my own way

Getting rid of obstacles

1. Anger, resentment, and annoyance.
The only person those feelings are hurting is me. Talk about stupid. In other words, cultivate compassion and patience. If there's no action I can take to change whatever is bothering me, then it's just downright silly to let it bother me.

2. Listening and self-correcting while performing.
Let go. Focus on just letting it go and stop trying to control the voice so intensely. Stop holding it in and back...let it gooooooo

3. Fear of failure.
No explanation needed. And so totally unproductive.

4. Worry over someone else's opinion of me.
Needless, fruitless, etc., etc.

The best things about 2011

Lessons


1. Tough music
Early last year I was given the opportunity to learn and perform what I soon discovered was the most complicated piece I'd ever taken on. It also turned out to be one of the most rewarding. Talk about facing your fears! I was scared every single time I opened my mouth to sing it. While incredibly beautiful and effective, it never became "comfortable," keeping me absolutely on my toes throughout the whole experience from the first rehearsal to the closing performance...then:

2. Sickness
Somewhere during the last weeks of rehearsal of this very challenging piece, Joe developed quite a health situation that put him completely out of commission. I quickly realized that I'd been taking my husband's contributions to the household for granted. Oh my lord. Suddenly I was taking care of him, the house, working, and rehearsing the aforementioned really hard piece. I brought him home from the second surgery out of three just two hours before my dress rehearsal, only to discover our house had been broken into! This was one of those times when I was kind of forced to dig pretty deep to not suck that night. The whole experience: what seemed like the perfect storm of stress, made me appreciate Joe and everything he does for me and the amazing fortune of good health more than ever before.

3. Then came yoga
So, it's no secret to anyone who knows me that I love food and hate exercising. This is the recipe for certain disaster of self esteem. You want to at least feel like you're doing something for your body, you know? I've made peace with the idea that being skinny is not enough of a priority to me to starve myself, but I do want to be healthy and not out of shape. When I cancelled my gym membership because I loathe the gym and everything about it made me feel like I was wasting an hour and a half of my life, I promised myself I would replace it with something. Little did I know when I walked into my first yoga class that it wasn't just going to make me more sore than I'd ever been in my life, but it would begin something very transformative for my mind and heart as well. Some of the most memorable moments of this years have happened in a yoga class...whether it came as a major lightbulb going on or as a word or sentence spoken or an emotional response to a physical pose that forced me to really take stock of something in my life. I am proud of myself for having the courage to walk into that first class.

4. Raptitude.com
The article "Two Ways to Deal with Negative People" was the impetus to change some things about the way I dealt with a couple of people in my life. It's crazy how changing my outlook has transformed each of those situations.

5. Practicing Peace in Times of War
This book is unbelievable. Reading it through once a month will be a goal for 2012.


There must have been a lot of other lessons along the way, but these are the ones that stand out in my mind.

Tuesday

I hope you are all taking lots of naps and relishing the chance to relax like I am! It's snowing where I am and I am in heaven, also somehow wine seems to be cheaper here.

With 2012 just around the corner, I guess I'm trying to come up with some goals for myself and spending sometime think back over the year and about all the things, both good and bad, that have happened. I certainly have been rich with friendships and new professional relationships.

I have loved 2011, because it's taught me a lot. I wonder what is coming next?

Saturday: Merry Christmas

Magical. Absolutely tear-jerkingly wonderful.

Monday: Stocking stuffers for your favorite singer (edited to add more!)

Okay, guys! I had a couple of major discoveries this weekend, and I'm putting them down here. If you need a little gift for a singer, these are fabulous ideas.

1. Eucalyptus Essential Oil
You can get it at Whole Foods, and it makes your morning shower a spa experience-- just splash a few drops on the wall of the shower once the water is hot and there is a lot of steam. Plus, it is great for use when steaming.

2. Bromelain
This is a dietary supplement made from pineapple enzymes. It reduces inflammation, and worked amazingly well on my fatigued vocal cords yesterday when I had a concert to sing. You take one right after a meal, a couple hours before your gig. It just calms everything down in there if you've been singing a lot.

3. Practicing Peace in Times of War by Pema Chödrön
With such a far-reaching, lofty sounding title, you would never know how incredibly relevant to everyday life this book is. It's short, it's sweet, it's life-changing. It is currently changing mine as we speak. It's not about countries and politics. It's about the human heart. Unbelievable and mind-blowing. It's inexpensive, and even less expensive if you buy it for your Kindle. I think my copy was a little over six dollars!

Have a great week, dear readers! Happy Holidays!

Friday: Discomfort is my comfort zone

As singers, we almost become more comfortable with discomfort than comfort, in many ways. We become accustomed to having teachers ask us to do humiliating things and make rather humiliating sounds in the course of lessons, because we have learned that ultimately, it always helps! We pay coaches to lovingly insult us into being better performers and more careful linguists. In fact, I have always had the distinct sense that when it comes to singing, if I'm not kept on my toes, I'm wasting my money! I think we would also all agree that there is nothing really that comfortable about singing art music in public. Sure, it gets easier every time, but ultimately, in order to even approach professionalism and a competitive level of work, we are performing with lots of focus and attention and energy. There's nothing cushy about it, in fact, it's pretty darn intense.

So, in that aspect of my life, I make a bee line in the direction of discomfort and ultimately growth.

It's the rest of my life that I find it's easier to fall into a pattern of comfort. For instance, sometimes its literally more comfortable to be angry with a someone that pisses you off than to make the effort to just get over it, and move through the discomfort of having to let it go. How funny that living with something damaging like anger is actually where my brain wants to go! Discomfort is my comfort zone. Yikes.

Just a couple of months ago, I made the decision while walking down the street that day to make a particular person in my life my spiritual practice. This person became my challenge to myself to see how much I could let go of anger, resentment, and annoyance that I found just seeping from my pores in their general direction. It has been really difficult sometimes, and nothing about it has been comfortable. But the changes it has made for me in this relationship with this person has been unreal. I am still struggling in my own way with aspects of this person's personality, but I now see it for what it is-- unnecessary. When I feel myself going there, I make the choice to let it go, and instead, react with kindness.

Something else completely out of my comfort zone: eating salads. I am making a huge effort to keep fresh greens in the house and just eat a salad a day, but it's hard, because I always have excuses and reasons why I'd rather be eating almost anything else. I'd rather be eating chips, you better believe it.

All this goes against my long held personal motto of "Sometimes you just have to do what you want."

And that is true too, except when doing "what you want" is actually bad for you.

Oh man is that deep. Whatever happened to frivolous Fridays???

Thursday: things to stop doing!

Oh YES, please read this blog post NOW!!

http://www.marcandangel.com/2011/12/11/30-things-to-stop-doing-to-yourself/

Wednesday

The whole thing with me right now is Christmas.

Oh my goodness. I sang my last audition of 2011 on Monday, and did not embarrass myself despite intense exhaustion after the previous evening's emotionally taxing gig. In fact I sang competently in spite of the "interesting" accompanying. Now all I have to worry about are the church job concerts and Christmas Eve services, and since they are not really solo gigs, I find them less stressful. Oh, yes, and I haven't bought any presents for anyone. Nor have I finished trimming my tree. My holiday party is this weekend, and I spent all of last night making meatballs. The house has the distinct fragrance of, as Joe would say: a meatery. Every single fiber of my home is fully infiltrated with the smell of sauteeing pork. But I can check that huge job off the list. All I have to do now is make about twelve batches of pizza dough and buy some more wine, some cheese and some veggies.

Ahhh. I really do love the holidays. As long as there is wine.

Friday

My body is freaking out completely. My skin, etc. It seems like the perfect storm of a break down of bodily function. I asked myself this morning as I got up and looked at myself in the mirror: What in the HELL is going on?? It took me all of five seconds to realize: it's stress. The intense schedule, combined with a brain that never rests (re: memorization), along with some family drama: all these equal cortisol levels through the roof. Add to that, I haven't been able to get to yoga this week. So I'm a mess.

This morning I was blow-drying my hair, which is kind of a project (It's getting a bit too long for convenience), I was hot, tired, late for work, and I could feel all that frustration and angst rising. I almost had one of my famous tantrums (ask Joe, they are legendary), just because I needed the release of freaking out. Then I thought, okay, what good would that honestly do? It would upset Joe who also has a stressful day ahead of him as well, and I would only be more hot, more tired, and more late. So I took a breath and calmed myself down with my favorite yoga teacher's mantra: I am grateful, oh so grateful. Sounds cheesy, but it works.

There is comfort in the fact that what will be will be. The words of my pieces will probably come out mostly right. I have devoted a lot of time to them. I have to relax and believe in my own effort. The shopping will get done, the baking, the rehearsing, the overtime at work, it will all get done. It's time to stop giving myself a hernia over the whole thing.

Of course, I cannot just say those words and stop worrying. It's a process of constantly staying on top of my thoughts and the part they play in getting me so worked up.

But I need to cut it out because I look like the wicked witch of the west.

Wednesday: part 2

“Ignore those that make you fearful and sad, that degrade you back towards disease and death.”
― Rumi

Wednesday: Over-Correcting

When someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them. (Maya Angelou)

Words to live by. Words that I have not been following as closely as I should be. I have endeavored to stop making excuses for myself, why do I make excuses for others? When I see a glimpse of goodness and want to believe in someone, I forget about all the meanness.

So I've realized, I think it is possible to over-correct in the journey to non-judgement and acceptance. Especially as a professional singer, and when it comes to others you choose to work with. There is NO reason, NONE to work with someone who doesn't respect us, and all the things that we went through to get to where we are. I'm not going to allow it, and neither should you.

No jerks allowed. The last thing young classical singers need is negativity.

Tuesday: Memorization station

Friday's audition was rather kick-ass if I do say so myself. The whole commute to NYC went so remarkably smoothly, comfortably, and non-annoyingly that it almost scared me. I enjoy auditioning for so many reasons. Very near the top of the list would be observing other singers in their not-so-natural habitat. I love to see what the girls are wearing, I love to hear the chatting, the lingo, I am energized by the environment. I am learning to turn off the comparing voice in my head when I see the thinner, more beautiful sopranos walking out of the audition room, so that no longer is such an issue for me, and it's crazy how much more I enjoy the whole process of going to sing an audition. I don't want to give the impression that I'm THAT evolved, however, that with the right combination of hormones, things couldn't seriously deteriorate, if you know what I mean.

Focusing on what IS my job and leaving all the other stuff out of it makes life way more fun.

Well, this week, despite the fact that ye old google calendar looks like crayola threw up all over it, (aka I'm really busy), I kind of need to memorize ten pieces for a recital on Sunday. They're at that scary point in the process where I still screw the words up waaaayyy too often, but it's ALMOST there. Yikes. Onward.

Tuesday: fear factor

I have been MIA lately blog friends, but I bet you haven't missed me. We're all auditioning and preparing and taking buses and trains to sing for people and being brave. I applaud you.

I was thinking about the popular exhortation to "do one thing everyday that scares you," and realized that musicians and singers specifically are way over their quota especially at this time of year. If doing one thing everyday that scares you is truly and act that will enrich your life and develop your character (and I believe it is), we've got a lot of character building happening.

As I contemplate that phrase, it does make me a bit more introspective (as if I'm ever not), and wonder what I do or avoid doing out of fear. The other day another singer asked me about the results of an audition I'd done, and when I said I wasn't cast, the person asked who had been cast instead of me. I am so glad I stopped to think before I answered, because what was about to come out of my mouth was an answer specifically designed to make myself feel better by down-playing the talents of the other singer and the judgement of the audition panel. Oh, I've done it before. And I'm not proud. Phew, I avoided it this time.

Why would I ever think that that kind of thing would actually make me look good, make me feel better, or help to elevate the already strained atmosphere of classical singing? Maybe I need to just practice saying the phrase: "I think I must not have been what they were looking for. I better get back to work!"

Seeing another singer succeed should make me feel all the more hopeful and motivated to make myself more ready for that opportunity when it does come. It should give me the sense that it IS possible, not make me want to give up altogether because it was her instead of me.

Talk about facing your fears.

Monday: Live the Question

Oh my gosh. It's been a while since I've written, kids. I think this whole singing thing is getting a bit, well, busy? And, hey, I'm busy filing rejection emails in carefully marked folders entitled: OH WELL, BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME and DON'T EVEN TRY/NEVER AGAIN.

Because I just realized something. It is not my job to worry about the odds. Neither is it my job to worry about the numbers. Or the sopranos or the mezzos or the ratios there of.

It is my job only to do what I can do (apply, prepare, show up), and let the universe figure the rest out.

You'll hear people say: "It's just absolutely essential that you know for sure what your true purpose on earth is." Or "You have to know who you are and where you are going."

That is such a blaringly easy thing to say to someone when you have no real advice, or any idea to how to help them.

I think that my idea of what I am striving for is always changing, and I find that statements of certainty about anything tend to scare me, but my heart says: I have to sing. Do I know without a doubt who I am and what my ultimate purpose in life is? Absolutely not.

But I am living the question.

Deepak Chopra says: Live the question. And the answer will dawn on you when you least expect it.

Friday: from a wise woman

Audition season can make you remember why you do what you do, it can give you a goal to work toward, something to help you truly focus your practice time, great feedback from the panel can make your entire week. There are also those days when you're standing by Sbarro waiting for the Bolt Bus back to wherever, in the rain, with a heavy bag, dress, shoes, looking like a drowned rat, wishing to die and questioning why you ever thought pursuing a career in opera was a good idea.

So, today, because I love Maya Angelou (in my opinion, one of the great sages of our day), here's something she said that feels right for this time of year:

“A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.”

Wednesday: The post-audition thank-you note

I’ve been to seminars, classes, and you have too, and this has come up. People I love and respect have differing opinions. But here is mine.

1. There are two kinds of auditions: The kind where you are one of hundreds of people all paying $35 dollars to be heard for about 3-5 minutes, if you're lucky. And then there is the kind where a director or conductor are taking time to hear singers on their turf (a church, or the university where they teach) on a smaller scale, maybe it's even just you they've agreed to hear.

Note the difference. One audition involves the singer paying. One doesn't.

2. Consider for a moment that it is probably a part of a conductor/artistic director/etc.'s job to listen to auditions, because they rely on singers to perform the things that they want to direct or conduct. They need us to make their vision for their company, choir, etc. a reality. Please remember that you, too, are very important to the process of creating a show.

3. However, if I have asked for something out of the ordinary, such as special accommodation of my schedule that was not part of the original block of time alotted for the auditions, and it was granted, that deserves acknowledgement. It is not to be taken for granted that musicians are by far the busiest, most tightly-scheduled people I know, and if someone gave you any extra time, fit you in, it's a big deal. No really. If someone has gone out of their way for you, show your appreciation, and they just might become your biggest fan.

4. I admit, I'm a person who's kind of into thank-you notes in the first place. I think they are polite, I think it shows respect, thoughtfulness, and generally, that you care.

5. I have often noted (no pun intended) that while I do feel especially lucky to have gotten an audition when there are lots and lots of applicants for something like a YAP, I have, in almost every case (with the lovely notable exceptions such as St. Louis and Santa Fe), paid a non-refundable fee, taken time off from my job, paid for a bus ticket, and numerous other costly things to get to that audition that I am very lucky to have. Are they really doing me the favor? In that situation I suppose the reason to send a thank you note would simply be to hope that you might jog the memories of the people that heard you and to remind them that you actually did come, that you were there, that you exist, and that you sang, X, Y and Z. Although, there is a very good chance that if you just sang musically, in tune, all the right notes, with delightful and engaging acting, you would stand out from the crowd on your own.

6. There is something that feels, don’t kill me, a bit desperate about writing a thank-you note under the above circumstances. I’ve done it. And for some reason, it didn’t really leave me feeling warm and fuzzy. If everyone is sending them, do you think that it really is making a difference for you? If the answer is yes, then, by all means do it, but I suppose that I am starting to feel like singers, but sopranos specifically, need to stop living from a place of fear, and start living from a place of “Let me share this aria with you and remind you why humans have never gotten tired of hearing it after three hundred years, let me share myself, my heart, and who I am, and you will want to send me a thank-you note when I am finished.“ I am constantly reminding myself, in singing and in life, that I have nothing to prove. I do not have to prove that I am cool, that I am smart, or that I am the best singer you have ever heard. My job is only to do my work, be nice, and be me. I think a lot of times the bad feelings start and the thoughts about needing to be reminding and asking and sending things, after you have sung your aria and a half, poured your soul out on the floor, and they are still sitting there expressionless saying thank you for coming. It’s okay. There's dignity in showing up. You did your part. Walk out the door and get a coffee or better yet wine, and go home. It’s life. And it’s the one we chose.

Tuesday: The Four Questions

Last night, at yoga class, I was handed yet another moment of enlightenment, for about eleven dollars. And, very sore shoulders. But I've always wanted toned arms, and I much prefer this method to the one where you wave some weights around and stare at all the people with awkward gym clothing.

In order to basically take our minds off the fact that we were in agony, our amazing teacher adds chanting, singing, and lots of scientific and spiritual information in to the class. Last night's were especially thought provoking. She introduced each of the Four Questions of the Shaman, as we held another pose that was related to it. By the end of the first, there were tears rolling down my cheeks, partly because of the question, partly because of the PAIN! Good thing it was dark! Or everyone would know just how much of a basket case I really am.

First question:
When did you stop singing?
Not art for art's sake, not a highly refined discipline. Singing as a pure expression of exuberant joy. This really made me think.


Second question:
When did you stop dancing?
I haven't done any actual dancing since...well...a long time. It was something that used to make me feel light and happy and beautiful. Did you ever stop to think that dancing could actually be the solution to all of our problems with ourselves? Maybe it's time for an actual solo living room rock out dance party. Let yourself dance. If you can't bring yourself do dance in a public setting, do it alone in your room at home, but do it.


Third question:
When did you forget the power of stories?
In other words, when did you stop believing that miracles could happen? When did you become cynical? When did you stop really listening when people tell their stories, and stop sharing yours? Stories, like those in the bible, the ones your grandmother tells you about the old days, the one about the singer who worked her tail off and one day really got the big opportunity she had been unknowingly, but arduously preparing herself to be ready for all that time?


Fourth question:
When did you stop finding comfort in silence?
I always liked crowds, and the energy of a crowded room. But it can feel like I'm being overwhelmed by the energy that's coming at me from every side. It is an interesting thing to listen to the silence within yourself even when you are in a loud place, like New York at Nola Studios with jaded singers all around you, for instance. Some people call it listening to the listener. I find that it is easiest to connect with that silence when I am paying attention to my breath. Which couldn't hurt your singing, either.

Monday: from my guru

Tomorrow:

The four questions of the Shaman. They really rocked my world.

Monday

I'm not going to lie and say I'm feeling fresh as a daisy, but honestly, even after getting home last night at midnight, I still feel like I had a more relaxing weekend than I usually do when I am at home! No church, no synagogue, no teaching, just flying around and picking up rental cars and eating at abysmal restaurants and putting on make-up, and then, well...singing an audition.

My favorite moment on the flight there was when I got to my seat, I saw a gentleman sitting in it. "Oh," I said, smiling, "I think that might be my seat...the one on the aisle?"

"Oh, okay," He said, as if he were surprised. "I was hoping you could trade with me because I have such long legs I really like to be on an aisle."

His legs, I might add, were no longer than mine.

"Well," I said, still smiling, "I'd be happy to, as long as you are okay with getting up to let me out to go to the bathroom regularly, as I drink a lot of water when I'm flying."

He looked oddly shocked. I mean I really didn't think it was that weird of a thing to say. I drink a lot of water, therefore, I have to pee a lot, therefore, you'll have to get up a lot if I let you have the aisle.

He hemmed and he hawed, I continued to smile, and he obligingly slid into the middle seat and relinquished the prized aisle to moi, the one that I had, mind you, purposely booked for the very reason I explained. I then proceeded to put on my Vick's Vapo Rub and my socks, and drink an entire VERY large bottle of water, and consider what about that exchange had made him so uncomfortable. And you know, I think he was honestly, just really surprised that I didn't just say yes, of course. When I started to think about it, I felt this tiny twinge of anger. I felt put upon, annoyed that he would ask me to give up the seat I had booked, for a very specific reason, when he did not take the time to plan ahead to do the same for himself. He probably does this every time he flies. Just asks people to move, and they do.

Then, I thought, why would I create this entire script in my mind about this and a complex story surrounding this situation? I'm going to actually put myself into a place of anger over something that is not even an issue. I'm in the damn seat, that's all that matters! The fact is, he had the right to ask. I had the right to say no.

Later, when a very well-hydrated young opera singer arrived at the rental car pick up, low and behold, a VERY bright yellow car had been assigned to me. The young man who gave me the keys said that he thought that an "attractive lady" like me would enjoy a bright yellow car. I have to admit I was flattered to be called attractive, since I've kind of felt lately like my powers of attraction are drying up...but the car....the car. It was hideous on a whole other level. Does it matter? Is it worth hurting this guy's feelings? I would be driving it only for about 24 hours. The older gentleman after me got a nice civilized white car. But, there I was, with my yellow car of shame, driving away down the road to find my hotel and the nearest place to get something to eat.

On the subject of food...why must everything be so horribly over-salted? Okay, I'm done.

It's scary how much free time I had. I did my nails, I shopped, I watched Law and Order. It was awesome.

But here's the thing. The actual audition part: you know, the whole reason I did this...

When I got there, my warm-up went great, everything felt wonderful. Somehow between talking to the pianist, greeting the panel, and walking up on stage, I lost my ability to basically breathe.

The first piece was full of unusual breaths and singing that was not as controlled as I wanted it to be. I had to really work hard at not hating myself for that.

The second piece was great.

But I am concerned they would have already formed their opinions of me by the time I opened my mouth to sing a second selection.

What can I do? Nothing.

Next!

Friday: leaving on a jet plane

Tomorrow I leave for my little audition overnighter, and I'm really excited. I love going places by myself. I get so few opportunities to really be with myself, as weird as that sounds, that I'm kind of looking forward to it.

That being said, there is always a modicum of anxiety that enters my little brain when considering what to pack and what to wear on the plane. Why? It's not that big of a deal, and I'm not going to like Pakistan or anything. Where I'm going, there's sure to be a Target and a CVS should I need one. But I have this sense that when I'm in an airport surrounded by hundreds of people, it's not going to make me feel good if I look at all schlumpy or disheveled. But you still want to be comfy and warm. So, I'm thinking this is a job for a favorite member of my wardrobe family: leggings.

I've got my amazing pumpkin spice granola (comment if you'd like the recipe!), my green tea, my vick's vapo rub for use under my nose during flights. It is my theory that it keeps the germs out...and it definitely makes people avoid trying to converse with me because I look like a freak. I'm hoping Joe will loan me his noise-cancelling earphones...but we'll see about that. I've got my GPS for rental car driving and audition venue finding. I'm taking one pair of audition shoes and a choice of two dresses...we'll see which I feel like wearing the day of.

Okay...here goes!

Friday: a blog post to share

I can only imagine how the world of singing would change if importance were put on the issues mentioned in this wonderful blog by Claudia Friedlander!

Tuesday

Oh my gosh. The kids trick-or-treating! It's so cute that it's almost enough to make me want to have a couple dozen of my own! Wow. It was a smorgasbord of cute last night.

This week, I've made an effort to kind of give myself a little more downtime as I prepare to go on a little trip for an audition this weekend. I honestly am so excited about it. I need to practice, but I don't want to be my usual weekend wasteland of exhaustion as I head out. I'm staying in a truly "spectacular" airport hotel, and one thing I really don't love about that whole scene is the breakfast situation. So tonight or tomorrow I've got a recipe for Pumpkin Spice Granola that sounds like something the hubs and I would really be into. And, I can pack some to take with me to eat the morning I am out of town, and it will feel like home.

Monday: Best Costume Award

This costume is my favorite from the fashion blogs I love to peruse. From this lovely post at B. Jones Style!

I, however, will be trick-or-treating with one of my favorite little boys and his mother tonight in a princess fairy get up from CVS that is rather lack-luster. Sigh. If only I had had a bit more time this weekend to work this whole Halloween thing through.

Survival Sunday: How to not die

1. Do set your alarm clock fifteen minutes earlier even though it is painful.

2. Do not hesitate to ask your husband to make you coffee, even if it means he has to get up as early as you...now is not the time for selflessness.

3. Plan ahead by packing a very serviceable but sadly not at all tasty peanut butter sandwich on wheat bread because your stomach is sure to start growling half way through that second rehearsal.

4. Screw blowdrying. A neat ponytail is just fine.

5. Opaque black tights: warm, slimming, and go with absolutely everything I own. Also, all black is the best policy when pressed for time. I just don't have the energy sometimes to try to mix and match and wearing color stresses me out.

6. Avoid mother-in-laws when first arriving home from long day, as things might accidentally slip out of your mouth that you do not mean. Or maybe you do mean them. Either way.

7. Best technique for avoiding saying the wrong thing is just to immediately stuff mouth with food upon walking in the door. Cookies, chips, whatever is there. Although what I really wanted was a grilled cheese.

8. Last and very most important aspect of post intense day recovery: wine. And a lot of it.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Frivolous Friday: inspiration

This was particularly inspiring to me today! Now, if I could just stop eating altogether so that I could be her size! I say, as I tuck into my 7-Eleven bag of gummi worms. Not worth it. The clothes are pretty fab, though!

Here's a sneak peak!

Monday

This weekend was devoted to time with my cousin and her fabulous boyfriend. They came to stay with us, and we had a fantastic time doing FUN stuff-- almost a full day and a half of nothing but fun. We went to dinner, we took the water taxi, we walked, we ate a ton, we drank chardonnay (duh).

I had an audition yesterday, along with the usual two church services, and I had been worried about having a day of bacchanalia right before having so much singing. I almost asked my cousin to postpone the trip and come another time. But we looked at calendars and realized there was virtually no other weekend that looked good.

Then I realized something: What the heck was I thinking? Am I really going to allow singing a five minute audition to influence my life this drastically? Is it more important than taking a little time (it's not like it was a week) to laugh, play games, and just spend time with a person who has always been there for me throughout my life?

So, I drank tons of water in between the chardonnay, and besides having to pee a lot, I went on with my weekend of fun, having made the decision NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THE SINGING PART. So I spent the weekend really being in the moment, and had a wonderful time. I just told myself that things like this are going to come up in my life, and I have to learn how to make being a singer fit in around the other things that are important.

It was an interesting thing, to be honest. I had to think about my priorities.

Confession: thinking about singing nearly consumes me. I think about my voice in the morning, all day, and at night. It influences what I eat and drink, and what I wear, and where I go. But I know that I would not be happy if my relationship with my vocal cords was the only one I was successful at maintaining. Relationships with people have to come first, singing second. And when I think about what that actually means, it's kind of sobering.

What it means is that I have to be very disciplined in my life, and very choosy about how I spend my time. It means that I have to keep only a small group of friends and family close, and ration time on other things sparingly. I do not have the time I once did to spend going out, shopping, hanging out with people that are merely acquaintances. My practice time and my time with Joe are sacred, and the more each of us work (and that is a good thing...I think), the less there is of it, and the more important it becomes to be one hundred percent THERE when we have it, not worrying about not enjoying myself because I have to sing the next day. Okay, so I have to have one less glass of wine, or drink a gallon of extra water.

I surprised myself with how not freaked out I was yesterday, despite the challenges of the schedule, the fact that I hadn't slept well...etc. I went to church, I was there. I went to the second church, I was there. I went to the audition, I was there. When I got home I collapsed into the recliner exhausted, because I had really given one hundred percent to each thing that day, each experience that weekend. It was so great! I learned a lot.

And I have a call back tonight! So there you have it.

Frivolous Friday: here I go again

Okay, so I just read this very intriguing post on Tim Smith's blog.

And I'll be darned if I'm not inspired. The truth is, I won't be able to attend opening night of the new opera company here in Charm City because I've got another performance to attend, but you can bet I'll be dressed up for that.

I relish glamour, fun shoes, jewelry-- real or otherwise, and while I'm kind of of the school of thought that there is never a good reason NOT to look hot (okay, well, I'm not at my hottest in yoga class, admittedly), if there ever was a good reason, it's going out to hear something as fabulous as an opera. Why are we not waiting with bated breath for opportunities to wear our loveliest things? Why would we wear jeans or slorish clubbing clothing if we could wear dresses, suits, gorgeous shoes? I have a feeling that I'm preaching to the choir here, but, holy moly sometimes I question why...why...why would you wear that? To THIS? Is it a Jersey Shore Reunion? Are we at the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders try outs? Did we shop in the juniors section by accident again? There is no law against wearing a skirt that is at the knee or below. There is also no law against wearing the proper undergarments. Yes, spanx do kind of hurt, as do high heels, and wearing hose is not as pleasurable as say...eating an icecream cone. But how can you really appreciate your sweatpants if you never suffer a little for fashion?

Friday

Because I don't have anything brilliant to say, and not that I ever really do, here's a quote that I love for your Friday:

If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking.
~Buddhist Saying

Tuesday

Why do I ever worry about a thing? It is so ridiculous, when I observe how unbelievably well the universe has cared for me. I am convinced I am married to the world's greatest person, I have grown exponentially in the past few years, I am doing more and more of what I really want to be doing, and I have amazing friends.

As my amazing guru/yoga teacher Brianna would say: "Just for today, be thankful."

I am so thankful.

Monday

I've been rushing around like a mad woman the past few weeks, and it's left my voice haggard and my skin disastrous. It was a gorgeous day yesterday-- I probably should have been outside doing something, well...outdoorsy, or at least taking a walk or something. But when I got home from my church jobs, all I had the energy to do was heat up some left overs and stuff them in my mouth and then I zonked out, and when I woke up, it was barely daylight outside.

It made me consider that it might be time for me to think about the importance of making space in my life for the things I really want.

Having time to practice is kind of major.

And I haven't had much of that recently. When I'm not singing at a rehearsal, I'm recovering from something, resting for something else. Yes, my time is filled with almost all singing related things, and one could argue that any money made while singing counts toward the goal, but I'm starting to believe that I have taken on too much.

Or maybe its just Monday. Which is also very possible.

Friday

Very cool article, forwarded to me by my teacher.

Find it here!

And another inspiring post from a wonderful blog!

Here it is!

Thursday

I am a geek. Or else I am just much more intelligent, cultured, and high-minded than the rest of the world. I've been watching Olivier Latry youtubes for the past hour.

God, organ playing is sexy.

Wednesday

It wouldn't be October without my first "because of the sheer volume of basically one million singers applying this year, we are sorry, but you are a soprano and we couldn't schedule you for an audition" email.

I take it as a challenge. I'm throwing down the gauntlet. I DARE you to hear me! All of you. You won't be disappointed.

Frivolous Friday

From this lovely blog!

Friday

Shana Tovah, everyone. It's almost Yom Kippur!

I was teaching yesterday, talking about breath to my wonderful student, trying to explain the importance of expansive breath, from the front, back and sides. When I take the time to focus on my breath (which if I am being a good girl, I do as part of my warm-up), it is like I am transforming myself into a kinder, gentler, more centered human being. I feel the healing power of breath flowing though me, and a sense of calm washes over my usually crazed and neurotic mind. It is so much more difficult to sing in that busy-minded state, and there is so much more room for art in the other. Not only do you need the energy and support of your breath to make vibrations that are both beautiful and powerfully healing in and of themselves, but you need it to bring you to...I trail off...and a phrase I heard literally hundreds of times growing up pops into my head. I haven't heard it in years, but for some reason, there it was.

"Let us come before the throne of grace."

Never ever had I actually thought about what that meant to me before. And I was so shocked to hear it again, in my head, literally out of no where. When I was a kid, it was a hackneyed phrase that ministers always used in church to introduce nearly every prayer. Because of that, I never took a second to think about it...What is the throne of grace? What does it mean to come before it? Who will be there to extend grace to me? What does grace mean to me, and WHY did it come up when I was talking about breathing?

Then it occurred to me that during Yom Kippur, we talk about a holy being who is able to expiate us, from whom we beg forgiveness for all the ridiculous mistakes we've made throughout the year. We open ourselves up and admit what has gone wrong. We admit that we're not perfect. We admit that we still have a lot of work to do. That we could work harder at getting rid of the selfish inner dramas that keep the light from shining through us.

My idea of a holy being has changed over the years. He used to look a certain way to me, and now, he is not even necessarily a he to me any more. But I know that when I am drawing in and expelling my breath in a mindful way, I feel that intense peace, I can feel the vibration and energy of my own body. I feel like I am coming into a place of grace, of forgiveness, of okayness. I know that that is the place I have to be to do my best work as a singer, to get rid of any that would impede my ability to give of myself to the audience, to my students, to my friends. To be more than just a well-trained voice (see Thursday's first post) throwing out a resonant series of pitches, there is a lot of preparation involved.

Yesterday's little epiphany showed me how to repurpose an old phrase that has its emotional and psychological hooks in me. I think I know now that to come before throne of grace means to go to the place where my little soul stream connects with the big river, it is a place where all the unmerited favor I will ever need is there for me to wallow around in. And it is a place I can go whenever I need to.

Thursday, part ii

After church rehearsal, I was able to rush down to Joe's performance and catch the second half. When I arrived, the composer, whose music I have also premiered in the past, handed me a gorgeous cd. I'd long ago approved some of our live recordings from the Merkin Hall concerts, but had forgotten that there would be an actual cd coming out with my name, picture, voice, etc., on it!
It was very cool for me, gave me that little boost I needed this week. Especially when I discovered it was available on I-tunes and Amazon. It was my Almost Famous moment. :)

Thursday

I'll write more later... but first, read this GREAT post from Once More with Feeling.

It corresponds with something I've always felt: Singers sound like who they are as people. Think about it. Does this ring true for people you've heard?

Tuesday

I walked outside today thinking it was going to be cold again, in a turtleneck, leggings and a leather jacket. But it's hot. And I am foiled again. I guess the bottom line is really that I need to watch the weather. Because I'm sweating.

Yesterday was the first day in weeks that I have not sung a note. It was actually tough to do-- to keep myself from humming or singing under my breath--but to just let the voice rest. Because we are back at it again tonight with another rehearsal. It was lovely to concentrate for a minute on other things that are important to me, like yoga. I went to a chakra yoga class last night-- so amazing how I feel after these amazing classes, that also include reiki energy work. It is so healing to spend 90 minutes focusing on your breath, and resetting your intentions.

Saturday

I am trying to rest my voice, and after rehearsal, I plopped down in front of the tv to guzzle water and just shut up. But I got bored, so then I promtly went to rite aid and bought six nail polishes.

Rosh Hashanah was intense this year, with the singing, at least. Not sure why it felt longer than last year. And it felt like such a relief to be done yesterday afternoon until I realized I had to teach, and then, oh yeah...I have a concert tomorrow.

I am excited about the concert, for sure, as it is music I am very happy singing, but I want to be at my best. So, I will continue to drink water, not talk, and maybe steam a bit.

And try to decide which nail color goes best with my concert dress.

Tuesday

This morning I woke up feeling like a loser.

I mean I really felt bad. I cried in the shower.

Am I wasting my life? How old am I now? What have I actually accomplished? Why do my hard work and conscientiousness seem to be most frequently repaid with bull sh**?

I think Joe was a little worried about me. But hopefully he's getting used to it. I have these moments on a quarterly basis.

And then, while kindly, patiently trying to talk me down from the ledge... he said something that finally made sense to my beleaguered mind--
"Jessica, saying you're a loser is actually what makes you a loser. You're a loser because you're saying you're a loser! Cut it out, no seriously, you have to get a hold of yourself!"

And he was right. In light of the real problems of the world, I was being completely ridiculous. It's true, I'm exhausted, and my usual fortitude is crumbling a bit in the face of my full time job, hours of High Holidays singing and church singing and an upcoming concert that I am scared to death I won't have a voice left for. I mean I am really terrified-- the people listening will know if I suck.

But it's not the slightest bit productive to be terrified. There's nothing I can do to change the circumstances surrounding this, but I can shut up and stop complaining, because it's certainly not helping me be fresh and fabulous for the concert. And it's SINGING, not fixing faulty heart valves and doing brain surgery. But it is my reputation. Every time I open my mouth to sing, especially with the caliber of singers in this event, I know I have a high standard to meet-- both my own, and the audience's. I'm opening myself up for all to see, and sometimes I worry that I am not strong enough inside to do it.

But I put my big girl panties on and did my make-up and put on clothes, albeit, not the hottest thing I have (something's got to give), and here I am. I'm alive and kicking, I'm not living in a box, although I think most of us music types are wondering if it's not just around the corner. But, how bad could life be if I bought a fabulous dress on Ebay yesterday for 25.00?? I mean really. Oh, and I am finally starting to notice muscles forming in my arms! The yoga is working! Wowie! Definition in my arms??? I never thought it possible!

Why did I write this moment of weakness on the internet for all to read? Where I can never take it back, never hide it, where it can never be permanently removed?

Because it is truly the way I felt and I'm fine with admitting that to you. Sometimes we are afraid to say that we are scared. But don't be. I'm right there with you. If you say it, you can own it, feel it, and move through it. You can be done, and then get right back up on your high horse and ride onto the next opportunity that's coming. And there is one coming.

Monday

When it comes to singing, I've always considered myself a bit of a late bloomer. For some reason, it's taken me all these years to come to terms with the idea of being publicly very very loud. If you think about it, there are far-reaching psychological implications when singing in public, being a soloist, and being good at it.

The way I was raised, women were to be quiet in church, to avoid asserting themselves, to fulfill our role as "helpers" to the men. I've since formed my own opinions about women's roles, but the voices in my head have proved harder to shake. The problem is that those messages get kind of inside you somehow, so deeply, that it becomes impossible to go through the rest of your life without it coming up again, no matter how hard you work to change your thoughts, beliefs, actions.

I have had a fear, for the longest time, of really singing out. Forever, I had no idea what it actually felt like to sing as loud and as intensely as I could. I didn't know where my limit was, because I had never gone there. I had been told for so many years by careful voice teachers not to push, not to do damage, etc. I was afraid to screw myself up by singing with as much intensity and energy as I could muster.

The other piece about singing out, is that you lose some of your control. Now, I am am learning what it feels like to sing with abandon and know that what usually comes out is presentable, but for so long I was unsure, and holding the voice in a bit allowed me to sound better inside my own head, instead of risking everything by unselfishly giving the sound of my voice to the audience.

Oh, and there's another piece. I was afraid to be too loud, too special, or to attract attention. I'll never forget the day my undergraduate voice teacher, one of the single most important people in my life, even to this day, said to me: "You have to learn to be okay with being better at something than someone else is. You are afraid to hurt people's feelings with being great."

How can we grow beyond the limits we thought we had if we are afraid to go as far as we can go? How can I build the muscles to support a large sound if I'm afraid of bothering people all the time?

We have to claim our accomplishments and all the things that make us special, instead of down playing them in order to blend in with our peers. Yes, it's tough to do without seeming like a jerk, but I figure if we focus on the idea that we have something to give, instead of what we want from others, it is easier to avoid being the dreaded opera monster that we've all seen in action one time or another.

My reminder to you and myself this Monday: Go out and be absolutely wonderful. Astound yourself with the freedom and largesse of your sound, and the openness of your heart.

Frivolous Friday

Here we are again! I can't believe it's Friday, and it's my birthday weekend!

My plan for my birthday weekend goes as follows:

Tonight, a date with myself for Tosca at WNO!!! Yippeeeee. I am going alone, folks. Which is lovely, except that I worry I will be lost the entire time I am trying to drive there. And I have to say the weather is guaranteed not to help. We all know the disaster the beltway can be, in the best of weather. The other problem with going with yourself is that you have to take it easy on the champagne at intermission. There's definitely no DD.

Tomorrow, if I'm not painfully sore from last night's yoga core extravaganza, I'll go to yoga class while Joe is teaching his private students. And then, if I'm lucky, we'll get to hang out together for the rest of the day (hopefully there will be a pedicure in there somewhere) until I have to go sing for Selichot service. That is always such a beautiful one, so I am looking forward to it.

Sunday, I'm hoping to go to brunch. And I spotted the most absolutely, disastrously perfect, without a doubt JESSICA outfit on What I Wore: HERE. The very sad bit about it is that the skirt, which I would marry if I weren't already married, is VINTAGE, so I can't get one just like it. This is making me consider another run at my sewing career. I used to be amazingly accomplished at it, but my skills are rusty to say the least. However, I am imagining all the beautiful clothes I could make in my "spare time."

Have a great weekend, friends!

Wednesday

Well, it appears this week is every bit the sh** storm I expected it to be. Hell, I'm exhausted. It's getting to that point where I get up in the morning and put clothes on, thinking they look perfectly fine, and then, when I am at work, and finally awake, see myself in the mirror and wonder what the heck I was thinking. Whatever possessed me to put this ON?

Every morning this week, I've gotten up and thought, well I have to sing a sh** ton today, how am I going to make this sound like I didn't just come from high school honors choir with ground beef for vocal cords? But rather like a professional soprano? Oh man oh man.

But, hey. At least there are lots of bad words to make me feel better when I say them.

Gotta bring home the bacon.

It could be worse-- this time last month I believe I was mortally ill. And there was a hurricane and an earthquake.

Monday

I've got some free time, I seem to develop the uncontrollable urge to do one of two things: Shop or eat. Either way, it is consumption that I certainly DO NOT need to engage in at this particular juncture. Can I get an amen? What with that latest BGE bill for August: AKA HOTTEST MONTH ever, I am kind of broke.

That's okay. It's a good thing I don't have a lot of free time.

At any rate, my latest weapon in the fight against eating and shopping has been yoga. On Saturday, while the hubs was out of town for a gig, and I was faced with a miraculous free Saturday with NOTHING in it, I signed up for a Yoga Nidra workshop. It was a fantastic way to spend 90 minutes, with 50 minutes of it consisting of deep meditative relaxation. I mean... really? This was FREEEEEE???? So fabulous.

Then after that, I got to go to dinner with one of my favorite people. When I was getting ready, I did the ever familiar "What in the hell do I have to wear to this outing" dance. The answer was not great. I ended up in: you guessed it: a black dress with black tights and scarf. Boring.

So, the moral of this story is, maybe sometimes you do need to go shopping. And especially if you have nothing to wear.

Frivolous Friday: a style blog

I can't believe how late I am in finding this delightful blog!

This young lady, also named Jessica (mmmhmmm), has fabulous style and is inspiring my socks off.

Have fun, soprani and mezzi!

Friday

Ahhhh there's a snap in the air this morning and I'll tell you what it made me think of: audition season. It could be that I took my husband to the airport this morning for a gig at 5:45 am, and that I am just giddy from lack of sleep.

Gosh darn it, I thought, it feels like the start of audition season.

Not deer season. Audition season.

And I've sent out a few packets. Here we go again! Wheeeeeee

Tuesday

It's taken me a while to formulate my thoughts about this past weekend, because it was such a journey of emotion, so many frequencies and levels.

The weekend started with a fabulous coaching. I am starting to think I have found MY coach. Over the years, as a singer, you start to realize that musical authorities often say one thing to you, and do another. You'll be in an audition where you sang fabulously and they are all over you, throwing out promises about various things, and the contract never arrives. You'll have praises heaped upon your head from this or that person, only to find they've hired someone else who must be even more perfect than you for the role. You'll hear one thing from one coach, one thing from another. You'll ask what direction they feel you should go with your rep, and get an answer like "Anything that Kiri te Kanawa sings would be great for you." You start to wonder if anyone really give a damn about singers, really, or if we are all just there to pad their wallets, their budgets, and make them feel powerful. You begin to wonder if anyone is interested in really using the time you pay them for to focus on helping you to find your strengths so that you can make an educated decision. Or do they just want to a) take you down a notch, b) make you feel like you haven't done your work, c) get through the hour, or d) prove to you how intellectual they are? You start to realize why all those years your teacher told you how important it is to have a very strong sense of your voice, and of who you are as a singer.

It's rare to find someone that you feel you can really trust, who has no agenda and will give you honest feedback. I think I'm on the right track with this new coach, and I leave each session feeling inspired and excited about singing. It's a rare and wonderful feeling. I was lucky not to have to search long and hard to find my voice teacher, who also has the same effect on me. But great coaches who jive with your personality and are at once encouraging and brutally honest are just as hard to find.

After that marvelous coaching, I met up with some friends, I was on an emotional high, didn't have a bit of my guard up, and was suddenly forced to face an oddly painful issue I have with my singing, in a round about, weird way. I had such a great time with them, but left feeling sad because of my own insecurities. Part of me thinks that I've been in an emotionally raw state all week any way because of the 9/11 memorial things surrounding us. But, my faith in humanity was restored when a friend noticed my sadness and called to see how I was! It was good for me to have a conversation about it and hash this particular issue out with my friend and with Joe. Insecurity: It's there all the time, just under the surface. I never know when it will rear its ugly head!

There is one yoga class I try to go to on Monday nights that i always leave thinking "I can't believe I would ever NOT attend this class for any reason. It's insane that this is only $16~!"
I love the class because the teacher never gets comfortable in a routine-- she is always coming up with new ways to challenge us-- both spiritually and physically. She really seems to invest herself in every moment of the class. Last night, when we were holding downward dog for way longer than anyone should have to hold downward dog, she said something to us about how as humans, our instincts are to run from discomfort. Which is so true-- I am constantly trying to get away from things that make me feel bad. But she said that discomfort is what makes us grow, and learning how to be with the discomfort is how we grow. Think about how many situations in our lives this could be applied to! Agitation and discomfort and ambiguity can serve us in so many ways.

Friday

There are a lot of reasons that being a lyric soprano works for me. The main one is that it's the music my voice likes, but the second best reason is that the characters and I have a lot in common. I tend to smile a lot. I'm a romantic. I weep over lost love. Wait... well, I would weep. If there were something to weep about. And I cry in movies a ton. So that kind of counts.

So now I'm working on a character that doesn't really seem to have anything great or redeeming about her at all. In fact she's a sociopath. The Warren Jeffs of Handel Operas, if you will. She just uses people and throws them away. The one thing I admittedly love about Alcina is the fact that she's gorgeous and is adept at seduction. All girls like to play those kinds of people...but then there's the side of her that is pretty mean indeed.

So...how to access my inner sociopath?

Yikes.

It's in there some where. I'm capable of meanness. Like when someone walks out in the middle of the street when I'm driving and have a green light, I totally freak out. Or when people take advantage of Joe by not giving him their music in plenty of time before he has to play it.

Okay, I'll just think about that while I'm singing.

Thursday

The recording thing is growing on me! Yesterday, during my lunch break, I asked Joe to spend fifteen minutes working with me on the Handel aria, and I recorded our practice session. It was hilarious to listen to it as I was walking back to work, because I actually had a recording of myself asking Joe: "And it doesn't sound like I'm just like...in pain the whole time?"

He said no, and the great thing about the recording is that I now know that he wasn't just being nice. I didn't sound like I was in pain! I actually laughed out loud when I heard myself say that.

You know how it is, when there is an aria that feels like it is ever so slightly on the verge of falling off a cliff. You know, the precipice that we all teeter along the edge of, whether it be because of our passagi, or our high notes, or our low notes, or whatever the case may be...and you just feel like you are so close to falling off the cliff into a place of sounding really damn bad?

That's how I felt singing it, and it was interesting to note that I didn't, in fact, sound as bad as I felt.

Which is always great to know when you're a working singer who has to do a lot of singing at times and in repertoire that OFTEN doesn't feel optimally wonderful.

I recently read this article and it was great to get that little reminder that recording can be an invaluable tool even outside of voice lessons and coachings. It makes a huge difference when you are forced to sing sick, or under the weather, to KNOW what your voice normally sounds like, and to be able to record yourself in the compromised state and compare the two. You may find you can go out there feeling like ass, and sound rather fabulous!

It was almost stunning to note in the recording from yesterday, the huge discrepancy in how I felt and how I sounded-- in a good way. It's reassuring, singers. TRY IT!

Tuesday

The rain on the East Coast has me in that state of mind where all I can think about today is getting home to put on my leggings, eat some pasta, and watch Sex and the City re-runs.

I've made the decision that it's time I FORCE myself to record my practice sessions and listen to them, as a matter of discipline. It will help me to listen to myself both more objectively, and less from the stand-point of wanting to commit suicide every time I hear a recording of myself, and more in the interest of self-diagnosis. I hope to some day become either so good that I like the way I sound in recordings, or so zen that I can look at it as as learning opportunity. At this point it is still just PAINFUL. Today it was basically just really depressing to listen to myself sing that Handel aria I've been working on. Then the question is: Is this just not a good aria for me, or do I think focused practice can make it work eventually? How many hours have I actually just wasted trying to pound music into my voice that isn't meant for me in the first place? Maybe I should confine my practicing to music I am scheduled to sing in the near future, which would nip this whole agonizing bit in the bud. Because I don't have a choice... I agreed to do it, and therefore, I MUST sing it. There. Now that's a plan.