Day 3: My parents

My father is a hard man. He doesn't think like most people; doesn't much give a damn about societal niceties. He was a career Navy man, but I think that he's always been like this; it's his father's fault. I see his siblings, and I know that the military had very little to do with shaping his personality.

I don't like him very much. I don't respect him, either, but I realized last month that I do love him. I wish I didn't. Terrible, but true. But I must admit, having such a rough childhood has made me capable. I know that when emergencies arise, I can deal with it. I've had to, to survive. And I know that I can at least fend for myself in situations that some women would be hopelessly lost in. I can change a tire. Hell, I can change the brake pads on my car, given enough light. I know how to defend myself against a mugger- and I know that in most cases, it's smarter to just give the mugger what he wants. Physical property is not worth my safety. If someone around me is in a medical emergency, I know how to deal. More importantly, I know how to deal with the people around me having hysterics. I suppose, for these small things, at least, I should be grateful to my dad.

My mom was a lounge singer when she was young. She was basically forced into it, despite her extreme shyness, because of her family's financial instability. She never went to college, but she's so smart. She loves wholeheartedly. She always wants to help.

She's also stubborn to a fault. She has a short temper when she's with the family (I got that from both of them- yay).She frequently gets hysterical over my dad's faults. She can be both obsessively perfectionist and randomly lazy (shoot, I got that one from her, too). Sometimes, I just want her to stop talking. But for all the things about her that bug me, I always know that she loves me.

Day 2: My first love

My first love was the written word. I had planned to write a post about my first love being music, but as I sat and contemplated, I realized that there was never a time in my life when I did not love books. Reading. Writing (though I think I'm pretty bad at it). I can distinctly remember the beginning of my love affair with music (third grade, after-school piano lessons with the school's music teacher. He encouraged me to audition for a magnet school at the end of the year and ended up changing my life), but reading has never not been a part of me.

I read so many different types of stories. Mainly fiction. Non-fiction as well, as long as the subject is interesting to me and it's well-written. I read Tolstoy when I was 8 (though I admit plainly that I didn't fully comprehend half of it). I read Poe in elementary school, Ayn Rand in middle. I also love historical romances, horror, fantasy, science-fiction, young adult, the occasional murder mystery, almost anything; just so long as they're well-written. I mean, Dean Koontz has some really fascinating ideas, good character development, and interesting twists. But reading his books is like burning my scalp with a curling iron as I style my hair. I'm getting what I want, but it really hurts to get there.

I've tried writing. I'm pretty good at poetry (free form, anyway). I'm quite good at essays and papers. But actual stories? They just seem to get all stuck in my head and never manage to flow down to my fingertips.

I read frequently and voraciously. I usually have more than one book going at a time, unless I've found one that really sucks me in. Then I have a tendency to stay up all night reading because i just always want to know what happens next! My sister is the same way. We used to get grounded as kids because we were reading late at night instead of going to sleep. At least now it's my choice; if I don't mind being a zombie the next day, I never have to stop reading.

btw...

Someone posted a vid of this guy on rav earlier today, and I now have a huge musicgeek crush on him.

FreddeGredde

Oh, my, isn't he  just dreamy?

lol. Good thing he's nowhere near me, I might have to stalk him. Just a little.

Why am I still awake, again?

I have a dentist appt in the morning. Followed by gown-shopping with Mom and sister, then a rehearsal at night for next week's concert. My voice is already shot by this stupid cough. I have to be up in 4 hours, but I'm still here.

I'm unhappy with where I'm at. I want to be so many things, sometimes it's hard to remind myself to slow down. Other times I get so depressed that I feel as though I've never done anything that's worthy of being seen, much less praised, and I never will, so why bother trying? I know that's not true, though. I know it's just a stupid chemical imbalance in my brain, but that doesn't always lift me out of my funk. I've wanted to be many things since I was young; marine biologist, news journalist, ballerina, supermodel, famous cellist, trophy wife, and famous opera singer. That's where I'm at now, and I don't expect to change my mind anytime soon.


When I sing (when I'm not judging myself), I feel this amazing rush of emotions. I'm so many things all at once; madonna, whore, mother, maid, unloved, unseen, admired, loved, and reviled. Sometimes when I sing, certain pieces make me want to weep at the sheer beauty. But it's hard for me to let that show. That's one of the biggest problems I have, one of the most frequent complaints from people watching. I can't let go, so I keep everything in. I stand like a wooden block and open my mouth. It's so frustrating, knowing what my problem is but continually repeating it. Part of the reason I do repeat it is that I'm not ready. I procrastinate, I don't practice enough, I don't give it enough dramatic background in my head, so when I have to sing it in public, I over-analyze instead of emoting.  But I want to do better. I don't want to be a stand-and-sing-er. I want to be amazing.

30 in 30

Stealing the idea from a lovely friend of mine. I think it's a good way to get used to blogging again.

Day 01 - Introduce yourself
Day 02 – Your first love
Day 03 – Your parents
Day 04 – Your music
Day 05 – Your definition of love
Day 06 – Your hobbies
Day 07 – Your best friend
Day 08 – A precious item
Day 09 – Your beliefs
Day 10 – What you wore today
Day 11 – Your siblings
Day 12 – What’s in your bag
Day 13 – Your mode of transportation
Day 14 – Where you live
Day 15 – Your childhood
Day 16 – Your first kiss
Day 17 – Your favorite memory
Day 18 – Your favorite birthday
Day 19 – Something you regret
Day 20 – Your morning routine
Day 21 – Your job and/or schooling
Day 22 – Something that upsets you
Day 23 – Something that makes you feel better
Day 24 – Something that makes you cry
Day 25 – Your sleeping habits
Day 26 – Your fears
Day 27 – Your favorite place
Day 28 – Something that you miss
Day 29 – Your favorite foods/drinks
Day 30 – Your aspirations

~~~~~

Day 1: Introduce yourself

I am not as tall as I'd hoped, fat, loud, and sociable. I like to sing. A lot. I've gotten better about doing it in public (as in, I no longer do it all the time), but it happens.

I'm crafty. I love to knit. I recently learned to spin on a drop spindle and spent most of my summer teaching myself how to make yarn. I occasionally dye (when I can be bothered to clean the mess afterward). I sew, though not as well as I'd like.

I read a lot. I'm a huge bookworm. It's hard for me to thin the herd of books at home. I am an avid re-reader. Especially if the book makes me cry (not that that's hard).

I'm an aspiring opera singer.

I'm a failed cellist (too lazy by far).

I'm a rennie who no longer has a home festival. And I miss it. I miss waking up at insane hours to pack my car and go live in the woods for the weekend, getting boob-burn and drinking home-brewed beer and getting bugs in my hair.

I'm a polyamorous bisexual woman who's married to a surprisingly traditional man. We're working on it.

I'm an amateur gardener who does well when I can get off my ass to take care of the plants. In my defense, it's hot. I live in Miami. It's like the 3rd circle of hell in the summer. And since it's the tail end of summer, that means my garden is a mess of giant weeds, papaya trees that are threatening to pop the clothesline, and a surprising amount of squash plants (they're taking over, run away!)

I'm a kitchen witch. A green witch. A maybe-Wiccan. Definitely pagan. My husband is also pagan, but has a very different belief system.

I am chronically depressed. I have an obsessive personality. The latter lands me in good stead, when it's aimed in the right direction.

I never graduated college, and though I regret that I let my procrastination ruin my academic courses, I don't regret my decision not to force myself to finish now. Right now my time is better used getting my operatic career started. After all, I'm going to be 27 next week. Many young artist programs have an age limit of 30.

I am both a procrastinator and a perfectionist. Those are very bad qualities to be, in general, and terrible qualities to have in concert. It tends to mean that I want everything to be perfect, and since I didn't start the task right away, there's probably not enough time to make it perfect, so I figure, why bother? I'm working on that, too.

I am the mother of two furbabies. Though they're not the only pets I have right now, and not the first pets I ever had, they are the only ones that actually felt like my flesh-and-blood children.

I fight every day to be happy. This summer, I usually lost. But I'm working on it.

Lazy day.

Lazy summer, really. I haven't spent the summer as I wished (practicing my ass off and saving up for auditions), but I'm attempting not to dwell on that. I had an audition yesterday for a church job downtown, and was successful. Beautiful place, really nice and intelligent choir director. Nice pay, too. Between that and the regular opera chorus paychecks, I will have enough $$ to do at least some young artist program auditions this year. First, though, I need to do headshots and a demo CD.


I have a friend who will do the pictures for cheap, so now I need to focus on the CD. I"ll have to record 5 songs- most places only ask for 2, but there are a few that want 5, so it's better to just prepare for 5. My rep list is still far too heavily in the Italian camp, which will probably force me to have two separate recording sessions. I'll get my best two or three pieces out of the way, and work on my French/German for the second session. For the first CD, I'll definitely have "Pace, pace," and "Vissi d'arte." I'll have to ponder on the third. I need to learn "depuis le jour" and possibly "adieu, notre petite table" for the French portion. German's still up in the air.


For tonight, I'll work on memorizing my words for my upcoming concert next Sunday. Beautiful music- I'm singing Lady Macbeth, Desdemona, and Giulietta. I'm just worried about my voice. Being ill has really screwed with my practicing plans.