In a little less than a month, yours truly has the honor of turning forty. Not that that, in itself, is a source of stress--I've always been a late bloomer, and my attitude, after all the years of hard-earned wisdom, is along the lines of "Honey, you couldn't PAY me to be twenty again!" Honestly, I can't wait to see what my forties will bring...
But I decided to throw myself un petit soiree (since nobody else is gonna do it FOR me...). It's been marvelous fun planning it, making up menus and so forth....but the guest list has been a source of unending fun (tongue FIRMLY planted in cheek as I write).
It began when I mistakenly sent out the email invitations under the wrong e-moniker, evincing cries of "RebelWHO???" from the masses, and necessitating a SECOND emailing telling people "no, no, it's really ME!" and a THIRD email to most explaining that, no, this wasn't my NEW email address, just a throwaway for commercial websites (like the one I was using for the invitations) so that I wouldn't be deluged with spam at my home address, and that the familiar address they all knew and loved was still good, and....oh, fer chrissakes....
And then there's the people who said yes....some of whom I hadn't originally meant to invite but felt I couldn't NOT invite for fear of hurting their feelings...and so, now, somehow, in the same room on my birthday, shall be (among other reasonably normal sorts):
The gay man who admitted to having a crush on me in college (and it may be ongoing).
My outrageously inappropriate friend from college who couldn't hug me at my first voice teacher's wife's funeral a couple of months ago because she'd just gotten her nipples pierced...because her daughter had just had her first period and she felt OLD. (-!?!?-)
My first voice teacher (no, I haven't told him about the piercing.)
My parents. (MY. PARENTS, people. The same people who created most of the issues I've spent the last five years in therapy trying to overcome.)
My brother, who will wind up being the center of attention...because he IS funnier than I am.
My sister-in-law, who may be upset because I didn't let HER plan the whole shebang (and turn it into a technicolor production worthy of David O. Selznick).
My older brother's occasionally inappropriate partner (no piercings that I know of....or want to).
My ex-husband....and his new wife.
The woman who was my rival for my now ex-boyfriend's affections before he and I officially got together.
And, finally....
My ex-boyfriend (whom, I must admit, I still have feelings for.)
This could get ugly.
Maybe not Jerry Springer ugly....but damn close.
Pray for me.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Musings on scientific theory....water displacement...and,of course, auditions
When under attack, it is a well-documented fact that an animal will react in one of two ways--it will either stand its ground and defend itself or it will head for the hills; this is known as the "fight or flight" response.
It is a lesser-known fact, however, that in very specific situations, the human animal will respond in a third, and rather bizarre, manner; it will stand, open its mouth, and regale the predator with a barrage of what it hopes is a pleasing and harmonious noise, so that the predator will not eat it alive.
This is known as an "audition".
I sang an audition today, for none other than HIMSELF--David Gockley--and various minions thereof. The familiar knot and nausea asserted themselves in my solar plexus as of 10 o'clock this morning (the audition wasn't until the afternoon), and my eyes began to dart back and forth as if searching for the nearest exit--which was odd, as I was still at home, nowhere near the aforementioned predators.
It didn't help that at about eleven last night, right as I was dropping off to sleep, I remembered that the sheet music for my carefully prepared aria was sitting in a folder with my name on it--in my voice teacher's office downtown. (All it took was a phone call and a small side trip to fetch it, so, disaster averted.)
As I entered the building, my heart began pounding, my breathing became shallower (which, of course, is big trouble for a singer, who needs all the breath control at his or her disposal to make it through phrases that, in the voice teacher's studio, seemed easy enough, but in an audition, always seem twice as long...), my palms began to itch, and on top of all that, a strange phenomenon occurred which always happens to me in auditions, and which I would readily pay a scientist to study one of these days--all of the liquid seemed to disappear from my mouth and simultaneously reconstitute itself in my bladder. (The rest of the symptoms of stage fright I can deal with.....but WHAT the hell is THAT about???)
So, after lapping up--and recycling--enough water, within the course of fifteen minutes, to irrigate a small farming community in North Dakota (which shall remain nameless as you could be munching one of their delicious apples, presumably watered with my audition nervousness, as we speak), I went in and sang my aria.
How did I do?
I wish I could tell you. Another thing about audition jitters is that, very akin to the fight or flight response, there's a point at which the body is under such stress that it either goes into shock or passes out entirely--sort of like the possum's 'play dead' defense mechanism, except that it's my brain that goes offline under duress. I describe it to civilians like so: "I stand up to perform, my brains fall out of my ass, and I don't remember a damn thing until I'm sitting down again."
I actually felt pretty good about it (and not just that light-headed giddy relief that follows a near-death experience)...I managed to stay present, hit all the right notes, and not embarrass myself (although I will admit that Mr. Gockley DID look a tad bored). The thing is, there's no way of knowing, when you walk into an audition, what they're looking for. I have long since given up trying to figure out how conductors think (the question I'm currently parsing is, "DO they think?"), and there are so many X factors in auditions that the best course of action for me is to walk away feeling good about the audition itself and not worry about what happens afterward--which is mostly what I was able to do today.
In that spirit, I suppose singing an audition is much like what they say about landing a plane; any one you can walk away from in one piece is a good one.
RM
It is a lesser-known fact, however, that in very specific situations, the human animal will respond in a third, and rather bizarre, manner; it will stand, open its mouth, and regale the predator with a barrage of what it hopes is a pleasing and harmonious noise, so that the predator will not eat it alive.
This is known as an "audition".
I sang an audition today, for none other than HIMSELF--David Gockley--and various minions thereof. The familiar knot and nausea asserted themselves in my solar plexus as of 10 o'clock this morning (the audition wasn't until the afternoon), and my eyes began to dart back and forth as if searching for the nearest exit--which was odd, as I was still at home, nowhere near the aforementioned predators.
It didn't help that at about eleven last night, right as I was dropping off to sleep, I remembered that the sheet music for my carefully prepared aria was sitting in a folder with my name on it--in my voice teacher's office downtown. (All it took was a phone call and a small side trip to fetch it, so, disaster averted.)
As I entered the building, my heart began pounding, my breathing became shallower (which, of course, is big trouble for a singer, who needs all the breath control at his or her disposal to make it through phrases that, in the voice teacher's studio, seemed easy enough, but in an audition, always seem twice as long...), my palms began to itch, and on top of all that, a strange phenomenon occurred which always happens to me in auditions, and which I would readily pay a scientist to study one of these days--all of the liquid seemed to disappear from my mouth and simultaneously reconstitute itself in my bladder. (The rest of the symptoms of stage fright I can deal with.....but WHAT the hell is THAT about???)
So, after lapping up--and recycling--enough water, within the course of fifteen minutes, to irrigate a small farming community in North Dakota (which shall remain nameless as you could be munching one of their delicious apples, presumably watered with my audition nervousness, as we speak), I went in and sang my aria.
How did I do?
I wish I could tell you. Another thing about audition jitters is that, very akin to the fight or flight response, there's a point at which the body is under such stress that it either goes into shock or passes out entirely--sort of like the possum's 'play dead' defense mechanism, except that it's my brain that goes offline under duress. I describe it to civilians like so: "I stand up to perform, my brains fall out of my ass, and I don't remember a damn thing until I'm sitting down again."
I actually felt pretty good about it (and not just that light-headed giddy relief that follows a near-death experience)...I managed to stay present, hit all the right notes, and not embarrass myself (although I will admit that Mr. Gockley DID look a tad bored). The thing is, there's no way of knowing, when you walk into an audition, what they're looking for. I have long since given up trying to figure out how conductors think (the question I'm currently parsing is, "DO they think?"), and there are so many X factors in auditions that the best course of action for me is to walk away feeling good about the audition itself and not worry about what happens afterward--which is mostly what I was able to do today.
In that spirit, I suppose singing an audition is much like what they say about landing a plane; any one you can walk away from in one piece is a good one.
RM
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