Goodbyes....

Despite the number of opera programs I have done in my life, I am still not good at saying goodbye to the various people I meet along the way.  I prefer to slip out under the cover of night and say goodbye to them all via Facebook.  My issues with goodbyes were especially evident last summer after I finished my time as a Studio Artist with Opera New Jersey.  I had made so many incredible friends that summer, which is unusual for me to do at an opera program.  Usually I can't wait to get out of there and tell all my friends about the tools I had to deal with for the length of the program.  But I had a close-knit group of friends who I had depended upon for two months and, instead of saying goodbye to them, I snuck out after our last show was over and made a break for it.  I don't mean to be an a**hole, but I tend to get choked up at the thought of "goodbye" and I would rather not embarrass myself in such a way...I do that enough in the various horrifying costumes I have to wear on stage.

And Tri Cities is no different.  I missed saying goodbye to my friends Anthony and Desiree, and I was secretly relieved, because it would have been a messy scene.  And my closest friend here, Anne Marie, had to settle for saying goodbye to me over the phone, because I probably would have pulled her to my breast and wailed if we had talked in person.  And, since I was moving things out of my apartment at the time, it would have been a rather sweaty breast.  And tonight I am seeing a few more friends before I pack up the truck tomorrow and I am hoping they get drunk enough that I can sneak away from the table before they notice I am gone.

What can I say, I am a total emotional wimp. 

Dusty

The worst part about moving is taking apart your furniture and learning that you have basically been living amongst your own filth for the better part of a year.  Some of the dust bunnies I found were so grievous that I am afraid I may have to have a permit before I can safely dispose of them. And since I live alone (for a limited time only now) I have no one to blame but myself.  But I am now all packed up and just have to get my stuff from my apartment into the truck I am driving from Binghamton to Boston.  And yes, I realize that last statement sounds suicidal, especially since I have never driven a truck before, but I am meeting a friend outside the city for help in navigating the narrow streets in Boston and the surrounding areas.  And I have no choice about driving the truck alone because everyone is too smart to go with me.  So I just have to pull on my "big girl panties" and deal with it...but just thinking about the impending drive keeps me up at night.

Fortunately, I have managed to guilt a number of my friends here into helping me transfer my stuff into the truck and I just have to work the sympathies of people in Boston for help unloading the truck.

And I am not telling them that I am living on the third floor of my new place until it is too late for them to back out.

Crazy Tenant....

Today my landlord turned off my water and left me a note, ON THE SAME DAY.  Usually a note the DAY BEFORE denotes far better fair play, and I was delighted that I got to wash my face with bottled water this morning.  I am sure some Hollywood actresses wash their faces that way, but I have a limited budget and guard my water with my life.  But showing up to this morning's coaching with zit cream still on my face wasn't going to cut it.  So now I have returned from my coaching and am frantically rearranging my boxes, because my apartment is going to be shown this afternoon and the dust bunnies are trying to eat my face.  Add to this that I have "Three Little Maids from School Are We" running through my head, and you have the recipe for madness.  Especially since I don't have the tune of the song running through my head, I have the harmony, which is far more dull, but such is the existence of a lower voice.

Is it too early to start drinking?

Me, after one too many shots at the various Memorial Day BBQs I am attending...

Horrible Blogger...

Yes, I know I promised an entry the very next day after my May 20th post, and I know I promised that I would be better at posting, but packing up all my crap has paralyzed me to the point that I am now spending all my free time breathing into a paper bag and swigging copious amounts of vodka.  Why all the vodka?  I gotta finish the bottle up before I move, because that stuff doesn't travel well.  Next it will be on to the Bailey's.  

Now, if you are a longtime reader of my blog, you know I have written several times about my hatred of moving, even though my lifestyle requires that I move every 9 months, and I should have it down to a fine science by now.  And if you take a look at my kitchen and living room, you would agree that I am keeping it light with barely any pots, pans, dishes or silverware.  In fact, if I lose another fork, I may be forced to eat with my hands, because I only had three to start with. But if you look at my closet, you will see where the real problem lies: I have a lot of clothes, shoes and bags.  And every year, I pare the collection down, but it still fills up 10 rubbermaid containers, plus two suitcases.  I LIKE my stuff and I LIKE having options.  I eat cheap food, and may have come down with a case of scurvy, all so I can indulge my habit of having beautiful things.  IS THAT SO WRONG? I get sadistically and morally abused during rehearsals all day long, and the only thing that makes me feel better is running my hands through my leather jackets.  I can't afford toilet paper, but I have a lovely Cole Haan purse to make me feel better.  Rent?  Who can afford rent?  But look at this cool sundress I got!

Yes, I realize I have a wee bit of a problem....a problem that becomes more and more evident every time I move.  But some people collect art, some people collect stamps, I collect beautiful clothes and accessories that I hunt down at excellent prices in various department and discount stores.  You have a batting cage, I have T.J. Maxx.

Early morning dance party.....

Since I will soon be leaving Binghamton, the city that time and dental health forgot is throwing everything it has at me....and I am not ducking fast enough.  It started with my a**hole neighbor blaring his music at 1 am on Monday.  Now, I have repeatably asked him, in my nicest Midwestern manner, to please keep it down and he always does after I visit his door.  However, the music soon goes back to full blast within a few days and I can hear it though my earplugs, humidifier, air purifier and fan.  And yes, I realize I may have one too many appliances going while I sleep, but we singers are a cautious lot, and I like to make sure my world is humidified and purified as I sleep.  You got a problem with that?  I thought not.

So he was blasting away at 1 am and I decided I had put up with enough.  If politeness wasn't going to work, then bats***t crazy diva might just have to do the trick.  So I pounded on the scary man's door and when he finally opened it, I launched into the finest dramatic oratory I have given since theater school:  "Oh, hello.  You remember me, don't you?  Your embattled neighbor?  The one that goes to bed at a DECENT TIME on a weekday?  Yeah, so I can hear your retarded music through my earplugs, humidifier and fan, so don't tell me that I'm not making an effort to ignore your crap-tastic taste in music.  Do you hate me?  You must hate me, because you don't want me to get any sleep and you look forward to me knocking on your door. Are you doing all this to get attention from me?  Because I am much nicer in the afternoon and early evening.  So do me a favor and TURN IT DOWN BEFORE I HAVE AN ANEURYSM. Peace out, you jerk."

I am pretty sure that is an accurate account of what I said, but I was pretty groggy, so I could have remembered some of it wrong.  But I feel it encapsulates what I was trying to get across. What may have also helped the "crazy lady" aspect was that I had zit cream on my face, pillow marks across my cheek and my bandanna was askew.  And to his credit, my neighbor didn't say anything because his jaw was hanging wide open in shock and, no doubt, horror at my tirade. Then I stomped back into my apartment and slammed the door.

The next day there was a written apology from him taped to my door.  Crazy b***h seems to be the way to go around here.

TOMORROW'S POST: Exterminators arrive on my door and I lose my mind.

Look what I found....

....at Target!  This limited-edition Sonia Kashuk brush collection is available at Target for only 20 BUCKS!  I especially like that they are all mini pieces of art and are ridiculously lightweight.  Because of that, I am now using them as my travel brushes for various audition trips.  And the quality of these brushes is pretty comparable to the higher-priced brushes I have in my collection by Chanel and Trish McAvoy.  And while I am not really a fan of orange, the pouch that comes with them is pretty cute in person.

If you can't get to a Target anytime soon, I suggest you order online at Target.com.  This item will probably sell out fast!

Bird Brain...

My mother's backyard here in Michigan is a veritable wildlife preserve...and by preserve I mean I have seen a bunny, a raccoon and an occasional possum. Exotic! That is about as close to nature as I care to get. I think it is crucial we preserve it, but I sure as hell don't want to be out in it. And my idea of camping is staying at a Holiday Inn, so don't even think about inviting me along on some outdoors outing unless you think you can handle the inevitable whining. But we have a new member to our "menagerie;" a mama robin and her babies.

The best part is that she has built her nest just outside our kitchen, on a wreath on the side of our garage, so I have a front row seat to all the action. And yesterday, the eggs finally hatched, so you can occasionally see a tiny beak stretching up for food. However, much like all mothers, the mama robin is very protective of her babies. If she catches sight of me in the kitchen window (where our sink is located), she immediately stops what she is doing, hunkers down over her chicks and eyes me menacingly. She totally looks like my mom when she does that. And I got an up-close view of her protective skills yesterday when I took the garbage cans back in. I tried not to look directly at her, but that did me no good as she squawked at me. And once she figured out I wasn't going anywhere, she started dive bombing me. And yes, I realize she is ten times smaller than I am, but I was getting my ass kicked by a damn bird. So I ran back into the house, shrieking "I don't want your babies!"

Just so we are all clear, I just got my ass handed to me by a robin. I am SO not a nature person, and I am pretty sure nature doesn't care for me either.

Thoughts and Prayers...

My good friend Emily called me last night to let me know her wedding had been moved up. Now, despite my "advanced" age, Emily is the first of my three close friends who is getting married and the rest of us can't stop teasing her about it. In fact, Emily was the only one of us with a boyfriend for a number of years, so that gives you an idea about how the rest of us feel about men in general: we can take them or leave them. But Emily is marrying a wonderful man who dotes on her, and if he ever steps out of line, there will be three other strong women waiting in the wings to beat him down. I might even get myself a pair of brass knuckles for the occasion, which may be helpful to wear during the audition season as well.

But I digress. So Emily called me last night to tell me that her wedding (which was scheduled for June of 2010) was going to be moved up to July of 2009. That's right, THIS July. So I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind: "Oh my God, are you pregnant?" To which Emily replied "Ha, no, but my mother's cancer is back."

Okay, before you start sending me hateful comments, I realize that the above conversation makes me the BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG EVER. In my defense, we usually all tease each other mercilessly, and if we don't tease you, chances are that we don't like you. But I am pretty horrified about what I said and will be living with that guilt for a while. And adding to that guilt is the fact that I can't attend her wedding, because it is the same day as my last performance of The Mikado and, obviously, I have to be there. Now, I keep telling myself that I had no idea that she was moving up her wedding by a year and she was very understanding about my absence, as she was aware I was lucky to get a gig this summer. But I was supposed to sing at her ceremony and, during this difficult time, I want to be there for her as much as possible.
As a result, I have made a pact to call at least once a week to just let her know that I am thinking about her. And during said phone conversations, she is going to get all the funny and ridiculous stories I am sure to collect this summer, especially since I will be surrounded by opera singers. And me plus a kimono in The Mikado is just a recipe for disaster.

And readers, please send good vibes out in the universe for Emily's mother here in Michigan. Thanks.

Busy Bee

I am here in Michigan and was greeted by my adorable mother and a spreadsheet outlining just how my time was to be spent while I was home. That is how she shows she cares. This weekend was filled with trunk shows (that my mother and I put on for our new business, more on that later) and a visit to the grandparents for Mother's Day. The rest of my week is booked just as solidly, but I hope to find time to post further. I apologize for the post "outage" and thank you again for reading.

XOXO,

Diva de la Blog

Flight-mare...

So I awoke this morning at the butt-crack of dawn to catch my 6:20 am flight back to Detroit and received a message on my phone that the flight had been canceled and I had been moved to the 4:20 pm flight.  Just like that...no fuss, no muss, no arguments.  My flight had been canceled, I had been reassigned the later flight, and now the airline (good ole' NorthWorst) was daring me to complain.  

I am sure this stuff happens all the time and, as someone who travels a whole heck of a lot, I am surprised it took me this long to get a flight shot out from under me.  Thank goodness I checked my voicemail as soon as I got up, or I would have been stuck out at that airport FOREVER. Unfortunately, my mom and I had a ton of plans for today and I have now missed a shopping expedition.

NorthWorst, I shake my fist at you.  How DARE you mess with my shopping!!!!!!!

MET Costume Ball...

The reason I posted this picture is NOT because of the beautiful Liv Tyler, but because of the monstrosity on the woman behind her.  Note to self: a lace bodysuit does NOT make one's ass look small and I have no doubt that the camel toe this outfit is bound to create is a wee bit uncomfortable.

End of the Season...

This past weekend marked the end of my official "obligations" to Tri Cities Opera.  In fact, I just got an email from the artistic director with a reminder that we have "class" tomorrow night, and I chuckled as I erased it from my inbox.  Usually "class" is a waste of time that consists of a bunch of sopranos singing and getting half-hearted comments from the artistic staff...that is, when they aren't getting yelled at for bad diction, wrong notes and poor musicality.  A delight for young and old.  Now that I am not really part of the company anymore, I have no compelling reason to show up, and will be using that night to catch up on my Netflix movies.

My night to sing Martha was Friday night and when I arrived at the theater, I had a check awaiting me.  Which I opened and promptly started wondering where the rest of my money had gone.  I even turned the open envelope upside down, hoping against hope that there was more inside.  Despite having to perform Martha five straight nights during tech, with a nasty case of bronchitis, and being forced to wear the world's ugliest costume, the payment for my performance was a pittance.  The small amount I originally had agreed to had been reduced by AGMA fees, AGMA medical fees, Social Security and the New York State income tax.  And by the time I finally got to the performance, I felt I deserved so much more for all the crap I had endured.  Hell, clowns probably make more for all the humiliation they endure, shouldn't I? 

Fortunately, the audience was a delight and laughed at all the appropriate places during my scene, so that helped to ease the sting a bit.  Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on the fact that an almost full auditorium would cause the temperature to rise in the theater, and I kept having to towel myself off after every scene.  Oddly enough, a polyester head cover isn't exactly "breathable" and caused a large amount of discomfort and copious sweating.  By the end of the show, almost all of my old-age makeup had run down to my chin and I was starting to look like a young woman with a makeup beard.  Come and get me hotties of Binghamton!  Luckily the costume ladies are friends of mine and they made sure that I stood in front of a fan after I got off stage.  And you really haven't lived until you have stuck a fan under your skirt in front of a bunch of chorus members, supers and small children.

The after parties were the best part of the evening and I even managed to convince the company's Development Director to buy all my drinks.  Hey, they were only $5 and the man was lucky we aren't in Boston, where one Cosmo can run up to $12.  I will miss the cheap liquor when I leave, because it sometimes makes this "artistic" life so much more bearable.  AGMA medical fees?  Noooo problem, pass me another shot!  On second thought, it is better I leave soon, as I could develop a "problem" any day now.  

So, in edition to packing (for both the move and my trip to Michigan on Thursday) I now need to start learning my music for this summer.  And, as we all know, I LOVE the process of learning new music.

Posting to come...

Some things have come up and I will be posting my experiences of the show soon...but not quite yet.  I apologize for the delay and please stay tuned.....

Too Tired to Post...Too Old to Party Like a Rockstar Anymore....

Opening Night

Tonight Faust opens and, because of budget cuts and management's inability to manage funds, each cast only gets one performance.  Which actually suits me fine, as I will be downing shots as soon as my scene is done, if only to get the taste of this production out of my mouth.

Send me good vibes please!