Circles of Life

There's a long tunnel that leads from the Theater District parking garage into the Wortham Center. And as strange as this may sound, it's one of my favorite places in the building---the passageway into a musical world that is flat-out magical. My daily walk through its tiled halls accounts for approximately half of my commute to work. And since it's empty 90% of the time I'm in it, it's a first-hand witness to my eccentricities. Skipping, running, singing bits of opera, talking to myself...maybe these are things best not confessed, but so it is. Through my comings and goings it's seen me in just about every mood: eager anticipation, nervous excitement, pure bliss, frustration and inadequacy, utter exhaustion, and so on. Basically, it's been watching me grow up.

Monday morning I entered that hallway and as I started my commute through the building, I laughed aloud. Yes, I was THAT excited to go to work. Crazy, right?!? Why? We started production on the project I've been looking forward to since spring, Peter Grimes. As an opera coach, so much of what we do is about preparation. First there are the hours of personal preparation: studying the orchestration, adjusting the piano reduction to be accurate and orchestral, learning to play it, translating the text (bless Grimes for only have bits of bizarre English), learning the vocal lines, and basically stamping your soul with the specific piece of music. And then there's the coaching and preparation that's done with the singers themselves.

Then production begins and preparation is put into practice.

On Day 1, I played for the first staging session we had and it was completely surreal. I sat at the piano in RR1 and played the Prologue for a conductor whose brilliance never ceases to amaze me and for a cast of world-renowned, talented singers. And it was all I could do to keep from grinning the entire time. Because almost two years ago I was in that exact room, sitting at a piano almost identically positioned and playing the Prologue to Peter Grimes while singing all the parts. Auditioning for the HGO Studio.

Needless to say, when I left Monday evening I was still completely ecstatic. Amazed at the talent that converges in a rehearsal room, awed by the genius of a masterful composer, and 100% overwhelmed because I'm blessed enough to be a part of it. And while I didn't laugh on my commute out, I walked through the tunnel that night profoundly satisfied and so happy I thought I might burst. At which point a quick skip seemed perfectly appropriate.

California Girl

Greetings loved ones. Let's take a journey.

If 72 hours on the Golden Coast can actually be called a journey. I'd normally term it a quick trip, maybe even a jaunt. But that would lend far less drama to this post, so we'll go with journey. And not to take away from my earlier invitation, but I actually already took the trip. So you can feel like we're journeying along though, here's how it went:

DAY 1:

Hello Peter Grimes!!! Let's practice. We just flew to California, so we should really make ourselves feel at home. At a piano. Makes you feel adventurous, huh? Well let's go crazy and go to...the OPERA HOUSE! I mean, way to switch it up! This opera house does have a certain appeal though, given it currently houses two of my favorite colleagues ever!!! The most obviously exciting way to pass the day is with them. First in the orchestra pit for a lighting tech...gives you chills, right?!?...of Il Postino. That gets your heart racing, but follow it up with a 3-hour session of recital programming with one of the cheeriest sopranos in existence, and this journey is clearly none to be taken for granted!

Just when you think the day couldn't get any better....In-n-Out. Yup. Double double. ANIMAL STYLE! Yes, you ARE an animal!!! Feeling edgy? Let's go for an evening walk on Venice Beach. It's nice and deserted, except for the homeless population of LA. The moonlight and waves make it ridiculously peaceful. And only occasionally do you wonder if you're going to step on a needle while barefoot. And maybe it crosses your mind what might be the best method of defense for you and your companion---hooray for U of M reunions! But really, what you're mostly thinking about is life. How small the world actually is. But how scary it actually is. And really how exciting that actually is. Stroll through the Venice canals, catching glimpses of another realm through people's glass walls and you're about ready to call it a day. I mean, a journey doesn't ALL have to take place in the first 24 hours.

DAY 2:

Wake up!!! Let's practice! And go to the opera house! Maybe we'll go wild and network, chat with colleagues about the future, and try and make sense of this whole career thing. Which can be slightly exhausting so lunch is in order. And you have earned THIS:

WHAT?!? A BACON-COVERED MAPLE DONUT??? Who even knew life could ever be THIS good?!? I will forever praise Jeremy and the nickel diner for this moment. As if a quality chat over peach Fresca---also a new and delightful discovery---wasn't enough, this mind-blowing goodness came along. Tribute to the greatest colleague known to man:

Because you experienced such glory, you must in exchange be caused pain. Otherwise known as LA traffic. Which you will sit in for approximately 2 hours. Your only bonus? The Getty Center and some of the most fascinating architecture around. An amazing water fixture. Beautiful view of LA. AND most excitingly...a taste of Fall. The ONLY taste you'll get if you live in Houston, TX.


Maybe traffic was a small price to pay. Maybe.
Another productive programming session and you're on your way to being prepared for spring recitals in NYC, Chicago, H-town, and hopefully Utah! Run to the first two acts of Le nozze di figaro and you're probably about ready to call it a day. Funny sitting in the audience of an opera house where your only other experience was an audition from the stage. Perspectives people. They're entertaining.

DAY 3:

Remember that bit about the Golden Coast? Well, since you've been overly adventurous, you're probably due for that time at the beach. Unfortunately you woke up earlier than you wanted to. And commuted, despite your now realized fears of LA traffic, longer than you intended to. RESULT: You're in Cali and kinda crabby! SOLUTION: Target. Mindless magazines. Breakfast. And last but not least, BEACH!

Never underestimate the power of water to soothe one's soul. Serious sunshine doesn't hurt either. People watching and Trader Joe's chocolate-covered peanut butter pretzels are just an added bonus.

Should probably think about catching a flight. This journey's ready for a wrap up. Not really ready to head back? Prefer the carefree life on the beach? Maybe you should leave the beach without really rinsing your feet off. Keep some of that sand in between your toes. Take it through airport security. Bring it on your flight. And smile as you find yourself in a diner at midnight, downing onion rings and milkshakes with friends good enough to chauffeur you about. Because you're a California Girl and have sandy feet to prove it!

That's what I did.

Ode to Costco

In a fit of inspiration following my first voyage to Costco as an ACTUAL member, I penned the following:

Oh beautiful, for spacious aisles,
For shelves of processed grain,
For purple grapes and chocolate cakes,
Your joys I can't explain!

Oh Costco! Oh Costco!
Thou shedst thou grace on me.
Bestow thy good, as none else could,
With all thy samples free!

Don't worry, that's only the first verse.

Oh beautiful, for dog and drink***,
Which leave me so well-fed.
Your dollar-fifty fantasy,
My heart could truly wed!
***"Dog" is actually short for hotdog in this scenario.

Oh Costco! Oh Costco!
I scarce can see a flaw.
Your fee, it seems, doth make me free,
Such love I ne'er foresaw!

I've decided to abstain on Verse 3 and 4 until further inspiration strikes. If you feel like you have text equal to the occasion, by all means contribute.

Now I just need to find a tune to put it with...

Paris, je t'aime

Et puis, quelquechose est arrivé, quelquechose difficile de décrire. Assise là et être seule dans un pays étrangé, loins de mon travail, et de tous les gens que je connais, un sentiment est venue a moi. C'était comme si je me souvenais de quelquechose que je n'ai jamais connu ou que j'avais attendu toujours. Mais je n'ai savais pas quoi. Peut-être c'était quelquechose que j'avais oublié ou quelquechose qui ma manquais tout ma vie. Seulement je peux vous dire que j'ai senti à même temps la joie et la tristesse. Mais pas trop tristesse. Parce que je me sentais vivante. Oui, vivante. ça c'était le moment que j'ai commencé à aimer Paris et le moment que j'ai senti que Paris m'aimais aussi.

"And then something happened, something that is hard to describe. Sitting there alone in a foreign country, far from my job and all the people I knew, a feeling came over me. As if I recalled something, something that I had never known and for which I had been waiting. But I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was something I had forgotten. Or something I had missed my whole life. I can only tell you that at the same time I felt joy and sadness. But not a great sadness. Because I felt alive. Yes. Alive. That was the moment I fell in love with Paris and the moment that I felt that Paris had fallen in love with me."

Occasionally there's a film that sticks with you, and this is my most recent. Scenes of Paris, strung together by the unifying theme of love, and not just the typical romance. The quote above was one of my favorites. There's such a beauty and truth in the simultaneous expression of joy and sadness. Life. Opposition. Complexity. Beauty. Hurt. Hope. Experience. Love.

What a beautiful thing it is to actually live. To feel.

~La vie, je t'aime~

Heaven on Earth

This Place






+ These People



= 5 Days of PERFECTION. Shopping with mom, sisters, and a supportive but perhaps scarred 17-year old brother. Trying to count the number of times my 11-year old brother said "MOM!!! She's being SO childish!" And doing everything possible to make him say it again. Picking out my sister's outfit for her first day of high school. Holding my new, almost-6-month-old nephew for the first time. Daddy. Getting my daily hug ration. Organizing a family yoga session for some of the tightest hamstrings ever created and enjoying the hilarity that ensued. Catching up with old friends. Seeing tears of pride roll down Grandma's cheeks after giving a synopsis and sampling of Peter Grimes--I blame her for my love of literature. Playing in church. Waking up early for family scriptures. Wishing I could stay longer. And praying for safety and strength for all until I see them again.

My heaven on earth.

I was born to play football. And people tell me that all the time. I mean, my stocky build, speed of lightening, and just overall toughness seem to make it pretty obvious.

So, I guess I just missed my calling in life. As is: I. Love. Football. Period. (emphasis added) Mostly in person---I attended every home game possible at the Big House during my two years at the University of Michigan, even braving the wrath of my teacher and skipping studio class to attend the Ohio State game. WHO in their right mind is going to miss that kind of rivalry...for piano?!?! (Despite said statement, I. Also. Love. Piano. Period.)

Friday night I found myself here:

That's right. Back at a high school football game. Baking in the sun on the bleachers, the crisp feel of autumn setting in as the sun went down, the speculation about the upcoming season. And I loved it. Especially when I heard my little brother's name called over the loudspeaker, vicariously fulfilling my lifetime calling. I saw his first two receptions of the season, the two resulting first downs, some fantastic blocking, and VICTORY! I still find it a bit mind-boggling that my "little" brother was a participant---when I left home he was 9 and I could still take him. Now he clocks in at 6'4" and 185. And obviously I could still take him. If I wanted to.

It's possible you won't see me out on a field in a football helmet and pads anytime soon. So the fates have willed it. But as football season is upon us, I'm training as if I'm a starter. First, I'm altering my Netflix lineup to include every football classic film: Rudy, Remember the Titans, The Blind Side...feel free to add your recommendations to the list. I'm already shredding, thanks to Jillian, so no worries there. And I caught AND threw a football today! SO maybe I actually don't need to train. Like I said, I was born to play football.

I Hate Goodbyes

EXHIBIT A:


Occasionally moments arise when I'm convinced I picked the wrong profession. And I can predict those moments down to the day, or at least the week (I'm only leaving off minute to avoid sounding pretentious---but I could). Add that to the "Special Skills" system of my resume. Along with my recorder playing. SO, when do such questions of doubt pervade my being? The End. It might be the end of a season. Maybe the end of summer. The end of a program. The end of a production. Time's measured differently in the opera world, so there are endless possibilities for The End. Regardless, in The End one thing is inevitable: Goodbyes.

I HATE GOODBYES!!! Consider Exhibit A, carefully labeled for your convenience. I love the travel, I love the new places, I love the new friends, I love the variety and change, I love being employed, and I love my actual work. There's a lot of love going on here. And then there's that bit of hate; capitalized, italicized, and bolded(?), also for your convenience.

I started this summer off in full-out tears when I had to say goodbye to Houston at the airport. I found myself blurry-eyed at our post-rehearsal hangout Clyde's when The End of American sojourn came and my peeps moved to Vienna. "But you don't cry!!" Exclamation of my roommate CM when I teared up with pride post-her rocking recital performance. Which may have been true (excepting of course in that well-known tear jerker film "Blow").

But what are you supposed to do when you have to say goodbye to this???

What happens when you have to split sisters and souls, yet again???

How do you just leave colleagues that in 3 short months have managed to become lifelong friends???

It's not that you'll never see them again. And it's not that your life won't go on perfectly smoothly without seeing them every day. "The End" in the opera world isn't actually permanent, after all---can't even begin to count how many times Tosca or Butterfly will resurrect just to kill themselves again. But life spent with the people you love is just better.

Hence, the occasional hatred of my job. Which really only stems from my love of my job. And of people. Dear Dr. Suess said "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." Which is a nice thought. But as it turns out, I'm a multi-tasker.

SSSSHHHH!!! JUST GO!