It's 11:35am and I didn't sleep at all last night. Waiting for the judges' decision about the KDFC Star Spangled Sing-off contest has been keeping me up at night. That and the fact that I'll be singing in front of casting directors from a dozen or so Opera houses in Napoli in 7 days. Oh, and add to that the CD I'm recording today to send in as an audition for Los Angeles Opera's Young Artist Program with Placido Domingo. And then, there's my voice lesson tomorrow, to go over the recording with my teacher and see if she has any suggestions for improvement.
I opened my mouth to warm up and nothing came out. That's scary. I'm too afraid to cancel the recording appointment because it's a gift of a favor from an acquaintance that I don't know well enough to beg and plead... especially since I accidentally slept through our last appointment.
I've had a cup of green tea with lemon, there are two red bulls in the refrigerator, and coffee is brewing. I'll need song angels to enter my body and help make the music happen. I shan't make a habit of having this kind of unreasonable expectation, but please, God, help my voice come through today. Amen.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Creating the Meaning
As I stare at the wrinkled white gown stuffed into my purse, the idea of sneaking into the bathroom to put it on along with some makeup and a new hairdo feels daunting. The Italian bar where I've just spent 3 hours of my afternoon drinking tiny little shots of espresso and voting for a video of myself singing plays loud popular music, and despite my love for opera in all of it's glory, it's hard to imagine that I'll be belting out Puccini within the half hour.
Hopefully, I'll find a good spot on a public street this evening, where I can stay for a few hours and find a loyal crowd to sing to and take requests. I should have warmed up. God forbid someone important pass by during my first hour when my voice is still ever so rusty.
Despite the challenge of working as a street performer over the last year, it feels good to be paid by strangers every night and be living off of my voice. But, God, sometimes it is hard to rally and just get out there. Of course, my dream is not to sing on the street. I want to be an all out Diva. I want to hone my instrument well enough to perform at the best opera houses all over the world before the biggest audiences. And then after a long run of curtain calls, I want to pass on everything I've learned to the next generation's young aspiring singers, working until a ripe old age as a vocal teacher at a grand piano in my living room.
For now, I am here in Florence, Italy, living in a humble little apartment near Piazza Pitti. This must be where I am supposed to be. I'm going to go put on that dress.
Hopefully, I'll find a good spot on a public street this evening, where I can stay for a few hours and find a loyal crowd to sing to and take requests. I should have warmed up. God forbid someone important pass by during my first hour when my voice is still ever so rusty.
Despite the challenge of working as a street performer over the last year, it feels good to be paid by strangers every night and be living off of my voice. But, God, sometimes it is hard to rally and just get out there. Of course, my dream is not to sing on the street. I want to be an all out Diva. I want to hone my instrument well enough to perform at the best opera houses all over the world before the biggest audiences. And then after a long run of curtain calls, I want to pass on everything I've learned to the next generation's young aspiring singers, working until a ripe old age as a vocal teacher at a grand piano in my living room.
For now, I am here in Florence, Italy, living in a humble little apartment near Piazza Pitti. This must be where I am supposed to be. I'm going to go put on that dress.
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