The info bar tells me it's been nearly a year since I wrote a post. Since that post last February (the massive Germany/Switzerland audition ridiculousness wrap-up), I made my debut as a mainstage artist at my first A-level house in the USA, trained for and ran my 3rd half-marathon, went through ridiculous post-injury recovery for knees/hips/lower back that made me absolutely bonkers, and was commissioned to be the general editor on a new edition that grew out of my dissertation. I turned 31 with some dear friends, ate at some amazing restaurants with my husband, celebrated my 6th wedding anniversary, sang at the wedding of a dear friend, and came to some quickfastsudden realizations.
1. I've spent way too long trying to figure out what people don't like about me. Worse, I've burned valuable daylight trying to change those things to make people like me. This is folly, and it doesn't honor who I am as an individual. There are people who have known me since I was an unfiltered, brassy, cocky, 15 year-old disaster area, and they still love me today. People who can't be bothered aren't worth my time.
2. I get more singing gigs in a black dress and red murano beads than I ever did in the "right" audition dress with the "right" singer hair and makeup. This is also folly, and doesn't honor who I am as an individual. They may be listening to the voice, but they are hiring the person.
3. I used to think I could create families wherever I went, and that they would take the place of the family I couldn't get to visit. This is a falsehood. I can create families wherever I go, and I do, but they will never supplant my family, the aunts in whose pockets I puked as a baby, the uncles who strapped me into their monster trucks and took me to the movies, the cousins who wrap their arms around me and let me squish them as tight as I like.
4. I. Love. Football. I love watching college football - the invincible, headstrong, crazy-stupid-fast players who take serious chances. I love the crazy coaches who eat grass. But mostly, I love the heart-stopping drama. I love cheering for teams who come from where I'm from. I love posting about the games with my friends from all over, hearing about whether or not my friend Kristy has banished someone else to the kitchen/porch/carport/second floor. I love the strings of profanity that pepper our closed group so our bosses don't see that we're actually lunatics. I love that my husband actually suggested I get my Honey Badger shirt sent 2-day shipping so it would get here in time for the BCS game. I love this game.
5. My husband might turn out to be the person who knows me best. This doesn't come out the way I want it to. When I got married, I figured that I would have my husband, and that I would have my best girlfriends and my best gayfriends and my teachers and whatnot. All of these people would have their roles in my life, and that would just stay the same. WRONG. SO WRONG. I used to love packing the suitcase and going far, far away to see the friends I never got to see. I used to long to go places new and different. Now, I long for an evening on the sofa with him. (I am so boring now.) I long for seven solid nights in the same zip code as him. I long for a dinner that he cooked (let's be real here) on our dining room table, with both of us sitting at it. Mostly, I want to be near him. I feel like the best version of myself when we are together, with the dog. I'm dense - it took me six years of marriage to figure out that this was not only what I wanted, but what I needed as well. Oy.
6. When I don't exercise, I turn into the college me: overstressed, overeating, undersleeping, crazypants paranoid about everything. When I do exercise, I sleep regularly, I take things in stride, and I don't ratchet everything up to the 12th power of hysteria. Running = calm. And I need calm. Like whoa.
7. These little ones can all be grouped together:
7a - I can't shop for clothes at the mall anymore. Skinny jeans were never meant for this body, 'tissue tees' are just half a t-shirt for the same price, and I like fibers I can identify.
7b - I really do wear a size 11 shoe. 10 is a thing of the past.
7c - I am totally willing to pay for convenience - direct flights, more leg room, taxi cabs. Get me where I'm going and to the ones I love faster/warmer/more comfortably. I'll do it.
8. My natural hair color is the one I like the most.
9. I can separate my singing from my personal identity. And it may be the best thing I could ever do for myself. Someday, my high f's will stop showing up for work every day like clockwork. And on that day, I will have to say to myself, "Self - today is that day. No more Queens for you." That day does not have to be the end of life as I know it. And I'm taking steps to work on the rest of my life as much as I work on my coloratura, if not more.
10. I have nothing to hide, but I do like privacy. Just today, when that damned alumni operator got me on the horn about the directory, it occurred to me that I didn't want my classmates or professors being able to look up my address or my email or my phone number. If they need to find me, I have a website. I don't need everyone all up in my business.
So if I want privacy, why am I blogging? Because I like to say what's on my mind. Put it out in the abyss, see what bounces back. It feels good to write things down. Plus, I've had this idea that, in the grand tradition of La Stupenda (Sutherland) and La Divina (Callas), I could be La Cucina - the soprano who likes to eat. And I'm pretty sure only singers would get that joke.
Which brings me full circle to where I began. Running again. Every year brings a new set of ouches and reminders of old injuries. I can't burn miles and just hope everything knits back together the way it should. So instead of following the long-form marathon plan, I'm going to do my own spring training on the dreadmill (ugh) in the basement, slow and steady, until it gets warm enough to run outside again. And I'm gonna cross-train for real, and lift for real, and stretch for real. I'm not sure which marathon I'm running this year, but I think I'm ready to get back on that horse. Make way for La Cucina!
