I just got asked to send ANOTHER bio off for an upcoming gig, for their program. I hate writing bios. I wasn't in the mood to do it. But, I did it anyway, and here's how it turned out;
XXXXXXXX, mezzo-soprano, managed to escape her hardscrabble hometown of XXXXXXXX in plenty of time (fifteen years early, as a matter of fact) to make her mainstage debut in the miniscule but important role (at least, that's what they told HER) of "Third Orphan" in San Francisco Opera's most recent production of "Der Rosenkavalier". She has also performed as a soloist many times with the San Francisco Symphony Chorus, Cantabile, City Concert Opera Orchestra, Redwood Symphony, and Peninsula Cantare. Among her operatic roles are Augusta Tabor (Ballad of Baby Doe), Disinganno (Il Trionfo Del Tempo E Del Disinganno), Bradamante (Alcina), Fricka and Flosshilde (Rheingold), and Larina and Filipyevna (Eugene Onegin). When pressed, however, she really would prefer walking her dog on the beach to singing. She hates writing bios.
*****
Do you think maybe it's time I went into accounting??
RM
Monday, January 28, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Calgon...etc. etc.
So, to fill you in on the events of the past week....
The emails and phone calls began to fly late Saturday, like they do every year about this time, like popcorn--one or two, then a flurry; the extra choristers checking in with each other as the offer letters land in peoples' mailboxes. What did you get? I got two. Kathy, Mark, Michael, and Nicole got three. Paul, Keith, and Delia got two each--yeah, the same ones: Boccanegra and Boris (Gudonov). Corey and Tiffany got no-thank-you letters--can you believe it? I Know--and such good voices, too! You'd think... Did Eileen and Chris get hired back? Yup--and Kevin, too. --But I thought he wasn't auditioning! Yeah, me too, but I guess he did. Did Rachelle finally decide whether to come back or not? Yup--she needs the medical benefits, since her husband doesn't have insurance. Who got Boheme? I dunno--they only ever hire one extra from each section for that anyway--so who got it?--and so on.
I'd already found out--the day before, the chorus administrator had sent me an advance email (it's a courtesy to the regulars on tenure-track or who are about to be hired tenure-track), telling me what my status was.
The GOOD news is, I'm hired back full-time.
The BAD news is, I'm 'leave replacement' only.
What this means is, I'm no longer on track for tenure, with all the medical benefits, etc., that ascribe therefrom--I'm merely filling in for a tenured colleague, with no guarantee of full-time work, or ANY work, for that matter, next year. It's not all bad--there's every chance I could get hired back on tenure-track next year, and at least he hired me full-time; it's not unheard-of for someone to be knocked back to extra chorus (only one or two shows) after being tenure-track. At least I'll have the income, if not the bennies.
I must admit, though, it knocked me back a bit, undermining my confidence as a singer--what? You mean I'm no longer THE ONE?--but once I sat in the corner and sucked my thumb a bit, so to speak, I realized it didn't have a whole lot to do with my talent overall (or the lack thereof!) and everything to do with the fact that I sang while sick--and was arrogant enough to think that that would be enough to maintain my position over those who were perfectly well. Silly me. So, let this be a lesson to you whippersnappers who will go through an audition because you think you HAVE to, no matter your condition--take it from Auntie RM; if you're not feeling well, DON'T SING. It doesn't matter what your history is with a company or a conductor--all they seem to care about is how you sound THAT DAY. It's the only way to ensure a level playing field, I guess--but it IS frustrating that a conductor who's known me, my voice, and my work ethic, for ten years now wouldn't take any of it into consideration when hiring long-term. 'sigh'... Oh well....
And yes, the very next day, my sweetie and I called a time-out in our relationship, so we could both get our poop in a group, so to speak. I don't believe that this is the end; both of us have stated that we want to have the other in our lives, and I believe that we fit too well together for it to end so precipitously (what? Denial? Why, of COURSE I know what that is--it's a river in Egypt, right, mister Twain?). We're supposed to check back in with each other in a couple of weeks; I'll keep you posted.
Surprisingly, I'm not destroyed by the events of the past few days (cue: Elton John, "I'm Still Standing"--no, on second thought, don't. That song annoys the piss out of me.)--I must be the cosmic Weeble--I wobble but don't fall down (ah, those toys from my childhood--who knew they'd have such a strong psychological impact?).
So, kids, keep your chin up. If I can do it, anybody can (OK, OK, with a good therapist and great friends in my corner--but STILL).....
xo
RM
The emails and phone calls began to fly late Saturday, like they do every year about this time, like popcorn--one or two, then a flurry; the extra choristers checking in with each other as the offer letters land in peoples' mailboxes. What did you get? I got two. Kathy, Mark, Michael, and Nicole got three. Paul, Keith, and Delia got two each--yeah, the same ones: Boccanegra and Boris (Gudonov). Corey and Tiffany got no-thank-you letters--can you believe it? I Know--and such good voices, too! You'd think... Did Eileen and Chris get hired back? Yup--and Kevin, too. --But I thought he wasn't auditioning! Yeah, me too, but I guess he did. Did Rachelle finally decide whether to come back or not? Yup--she needs the medical benefits, since her husband doesn't have insurance. Who got Boheme? I dunno--they only ever hire one extra from each section for that anyway--so who got it?--and so on.
I'd already found out--the day before, the chorus administrator had sent me an advance email (it's a courtesy to the regulars on tenure-track or who are about to be hired tenure-track), telling me what my status was.
The GOOD news is, I'm hired back full-time.
The BAD news is, I'm 'leave replacement' only.
What this means is, I'm no longer on track for tenure, with all the medical benefits, etc., that ascribe therefrom--I'm merely filling in for a tenured colleague, with no guarantee of full-time work, or ANY work, for that matter, next year. It's not all bad--there's every chance I could get hired back on tenure-track next year, and at least he hired me full-time; it's not unheard-of for someone to be knocked back to extra chorus (only one or two shows) after being tenure-track. At least I'll have the income, if not the bennies.
I must admit, though, it knocked me back a bit, undermining my confidence as a singer--what? You mean I'm no longer THE ONE?--but once I sat in the corner and sucked my thumb a bit, so to speak, I realized it didn't have a whole lot to do with my talent overall (or the lack thereof!) and everything to do with the fact that I sang while sick--and was arrogant enough to think that that would be enough to maintain my position over those who were perfectly well. Silly me. So, let this be a lesson to you whippersnappers who will go through an audition because you think you HAVE to, no matter your condition--take it from Auntie RM; if you're not feeling well, DON'T SING. It doesn't matter what your history is with a company or a conductor--all they seem to care about is how you sound THAT DAY. It's the only way to ensure a level playing field, I guess--but it IS frustrating that a conductor who's known me, my voice, and my work ethic, for ten years now wouldn't take any of it into consideration when hiring long-term. 'sigh'... Oh well....
And yes, the very next day, my sweetie and I called a time-out in our relationship, so we could both get our poop in a group, so to speak. I don't believe that this is the end; both of us have stated that we want to have the other in our lives, and I believe that we fit too well together for it to end so precipitously (what? Denial? Why, of COURSE I know what that is--it's a river in Egypt, right, mister Twain?). We're supposed to check back in with each other in a couple of weeks; I'll keep you posted.
Surprisingly, I'm not destroyed by the events of the past few days (cue: Elton John, "I'm Still Standing"--no, on second thought, don't. That song annoys the piss out of me.)--I must be the cosmic Weeble--I wobble but don't fall down (ah, those toys from my childhood--who knew they'd have such a strong psychological impact?).
So, kids, keep your chin up. If I can do it, anybody can (OK, OK, with a good therapist and great friends in my corner--but STILL).....
xo
RM
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Thank you, Ethan Ponedel...
I don't mind telling you that I'm in a grunk* tonight. I'm at a bit of a crossroads, personally and professionally...my nascent relationship is foundering on that perverse little fulcrum known as bad timing (i.e., I'm ready to move forward, he isn't), and I'm on tenterhooks waiting to hear whether I'm hired back full-time (with all its attendant benefits) or will be bumped back to Extra chorus. Right now, it feels like everything is in limbo; will we work out our issues? Will I have a job? Is it time for me to move on, pursue the solo career more aggressively, go back to school, move to NYC, throw caution to the wind and go live the Boho life in Europe and make ceramic neti pots (OK, maybe not that last one)?
It's funny how odd memories can pop up when least expected. I was reminded of something that happened when I was in college. I had an obnoxious skater-punk type named Ethan Ponedel (funny how I can remember his name so clearly when half the time I forget my OWN name, eh?) in my poetry class. At the end of the semester, we each had to turn in a booklet containing all the poems we'd written for class, and in addition to the grade we received from the teacher, we were critiqued by, and got to critique in return, all our classmates. I remember none of my other classmates, none of their critiques (all of which, I'm sure, were very kind, very well-intentioned, and absolutely useless to me as a writer or as a person), except for his, because, at the time, it puzzled and annoyed me: instead of a written critique, he'd drawn a crude pastel of a swimmer in choppy waters with a red arrow pointing to it and a single sentence written below, without even the benefit of punctuation--
You can't go fast if you're afraid to wobble
--I dismissed it (and him) in disgust at the time: What a pretentious little jerk! I thought. Couldn't even be bothered to read my poetry, to give me an actual criticism I can USE? What! An! ASSHOLE!!!
But now I see that he HAD read my work, had gotten it--and me--in a way nobody else did, and had had the courage to tell me the truth, in a way I only now, twenty years later, can really appreciate...
You can't go fast if you're afraid to wobble
It's taken me all these years of living with the brakes on to see just how true his words are...so no matter what happens I'll just have to keep swimming, won't I....
RM
*Grunk=grumpy funk, i.e. cranky AND depressed
It's funny how odd memories can pop up when least expected. I was reminded of something that happened when I was in college. I had an obnoxious skater-punk type named Ethan Ponedel (funny how I can remember his name so clearly when half the time I forget my OWN name, eh?) in my poetry class. At the end of the semester, we each had to turn in a booklet containing all the poems we'd written for class, and in addition to the grade we received from the teacher, we were critiqued by, and got to critique in return, all our classmates. I remember none of my other classmates, none of their critiques (all of which, I'm sure, were very kind, very well-intentioned, and absolutely useless to me as a writer or as a person), except for his, because, at the time, it puzzled and annoyed me: instead of a written critique, he'd drawn a crude pastel of a swimmer in choppy waters with a red arrow pointing to it and a single sentence written below, without even the benefit of punctuation--
You can't go fast if you're afraid to wobble
--I dismissed it (and him) in disgust at the time: What a pretentious little jerk! I thought. Couldn't even be bothered to read my poetry, to give me an actual criticism I can USE? What! An! ASSHOLE!!!
But now I see that he HAD read my work, had gotten it--and me--in a way nobody else did, and had had the courage to tell me the truth, in a way I only now, twenty years later, can really appreciate...
You can't go fast if you're afraid to wobble
It's taken me all these years of living with the brakes on to see just how true his words are...so no matter what happens I'll just have to keep swimming, won't I....
RM
*Grunk=grumpy funk, i.e. cranky AND depressed
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