Kindly repeat that after I pick myself up off the floor, thank you?

July 16, 2007

Yesterday’s Mozart rehearsal: no standing in (shit!) The director gave it to a fat, ugly very nice lesbian who has a decent but kinda’ so-so voice with definite problems in the head register. Ah, the politics. I think this director is still smarting from some rather off-the-cuff comments I made last year regarding the choir and where it was headed, etc. Oops.

Tomorrow is another day however. We’ll rehearse with the real conductor (last night we were lead by the choral director only) and who knows, they might ask me to do it then. I’d be more than thrilled and what’s more, I really know I can sing it now. Nyuck, nyuck.

Today’s voice lesson: this was shiiiiiiiiiver-me-timbers territory today, folks. I can hardly believe what I actually heard today, and I’m kinda’ skeptical still but… I was told that I could have a career in opera if I wanted. I’m not entirely a spring chicken and that’s an issue… but only if a director really cares about that. I look quite a bit younger {I’ve had people tell me they thought I was in my 20s} and if I keep losing weight, I think I could pass for quite a bit younger than I actually am. A little makeup don’t hurt nobody. Soft lighting and what the heck, a chin lift? No, I draw the line at plastic surgery, but shit, Bubbles herself was playing 16-year old girls at the age of 40+. But she was Bubbles… ahem. {Bubbles = the late, delightful Beverly Sills whose voice I like but have no desire to emulate. But she was wonderful at what she did and the way she did it. Bless her sweet soul.}

I worked with the new teacher’s wife today. She was delightful. There were no head games. I told her about what happened with Blackbeard and she just shook her head and asked if he taught at the local university so she could warn people there. It’s not cool what he did, and I know that. But more on that later.

Her voice is beautiful and similar to mine in many ways. She has a lovely but not obnoxious vibrato and a bright but nicely rounded sound. It would be nice to hear her sound get even richer, but she’s only 31 and a lot can happen in 10 years or so with a voice. She’s got plenty of time. Oh, that I were so lucky. But enough of that; no looking back, right?

We worked for about 15 minutes when she stopped and said ‘You have a great instrument. My husband told me that, and I agree. I think you could definitely be singing at the very least small roles with ABC Opera Company, maybe more.’

Thunk. {That would be me, folks, hitting the floor hard when those words hit my ears.}

Like I said, I’m still skeptical. She’s only one teacher. But she was so nice, and what a R-E-L-I-E-F to sing sans bullshit and furtive glances and all that suppressed longing and whatnot.

Her husband stopped by at the end, and seemed to confirm what she was saying. The three of us talked about opportunities, and what I could do and the subject of moving to the East Coast to be nearer to NYC came up. N-fucking-Y-C, babies. And a few of you know that’s a place that is near and dear to my little coloratura heart. Not that we’ll be ripping up stakes and trotting over there any time too soon… but it’s on the radar, and quite possibly, coming to a theater near you.

I came home and told le husband everything. Who promptly said whoaaaa… because change makes him nervous, go figure.

‘Honey, guess what? I’m going to be an OPERA SINGER and we’re moving to NEW YORK CITY and oh my god, can you believe it? Whaddya’ think?’

I promised him a lot of things when we got married and I think it’s been confirmed that we need to add ‘definitely never boring‘ to the list. Poor fellow.

For now, I think I’ll just keep singing, fingers crossed.

– – –

So that’s enough of the nice, let’s get back to the nittay grittay: Blackbeard did in fact email me finally regarding moving forward {oh no? oh yes!} and to make a long story short, after consulting with a singing friend of mine, I decided I could only be honest at this point. So I told him that we needed to talk about what happened. He has no idea that I’ve moved on to other teachers at this point. I have no idea if he knows what I’m referring to when I said there were things that happened that made me uncomfortable. We’re supposed to meet soon and I have no idea if it’s actually going to happen. I have plans and scripts for what I’m going to say to him. He does funny things to me when I’m in his presence, so I have no idea if those will come out anywhere close to what I have planned. But I can muster a lot o’ moxy when I need to, and while I’m not entirely sure, I think it might be important to tell him to his face that what he did was out of line.

I am angry at him. I am angry that he has put me in this confusing place where I am afraid to leave him and move on, even though this new teacher is clearly much, much healthier.

He had me convinced that what he was teaching was something rare, true old italian bel canto, and something that you can’t find just anywhere. From the research I’ve done locally, this would seem to be true. And that’s where I get so angry… if that is true, then why did you mess this up? And the only thing I can come up with is that it’s because I didn’t matter. My voice wasn’t worth him holding back on whatever was motivating him to say and do what he did. And that hurts.

Part of me is very afraid to see him again. His hair is black like coal and it falls so perfectly around his forehead and it makes me feel weak. And his eyes seem to look too deeply into me, like they know something more than I ever wanted to admit. I have wondered what it would be like to kiss him fully on the lips, not just the half to three-quarter kisses he slowly built me up to. One of those kisses was dangerously, dangerously close to the real thing.

Mostly, I think I want to see his face to see the reaction. I’ll know if he’s covering or bullshitting. And if he really did feel something, I want to see it. I want him to suffer. I want to see it register on his face that he is never going to have me. He owes me that, after all the shit he’s put me through these last few months.

I am a cruel, cruel bitch, am I not, babies?

So… possible showdown, but I’ll be very curious to see if it even happens. He is supposed to get back to me with available times next weekend. We’ll see if he actually does that. I don’t know of a lot of men who sign up for a ‘we need to talk session’ unless they’re getting something out of it, which is usually pussy. The only thing he can possibly get out of me is more money.

Wait a minute, did I just answer my own question?




  1. Sorry you didn’t get to sit in, but it sounds like there are plenty more opportunities where that came from. So what is stopping you from actually moving to the East Coast?

  2. What’s stopping me…? Not a lot. I feel no ties here. I am ready to go, if and when the opportunity presents itself. Or when I know that it’s time. I think it’s going to happen. We’ll see but… I think it will.

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