Why I love my job, part 2

My dear friend Tobi came all the way from Stuttgart with his girlfriend Babsi to see me sing this weekend.  They arrived super late on Thursday night, we spent most of Friday sight-seeing and shopping (my first successful trip yet - I found true adult love with a handbag) and then I spent Saturday indoors recovering for the performance while they trotted all over London.  I left the house early so I could go in and pick up my beautiful bag, bringing my Midsummer score with me - no sense in buying a professional bag if it doesn't fit the needs of your professional materials, then into the theatre.  I've got the sniffles but I'm feeling unusually optimistic.  Everyone is so tired from having done the matinee, but there's something wonderful about a double-dipper day.  The initial nerves are mostly gone, even though our 2nd cast Pamina is on for a double-dip as well, the staff has all gone out and grabbed a quick bite to eat, and the theatre is still buzzing with people coming and going.  Eddy comes and gets the face on, puts on Her Highness (the wig), and since I'm drinking tea like a fiend, Jessie lets me make one last trip to the loo before the massive skirts go on.  The makeup and wardrobe people are taking pictures for their archive, so we get to pose in the hallway and lark about being silly.  I'm called for the first aria, George the birdman hands me the missus, who proceeds to get squirmy AGAIN and now I've just accepted that this will be part of our routine.  Squirmy bird makes for a good aria.  Fine.  The first aria did go really really well, if I do say so myself, and then I did some work on Midsummer until the interval when Jessie was kind enough to release me from the skirts (more tea, more loo, is this TMI or what?) and then before I know it, they're calling me for the second aria.  Feeling good, feeling in control, a little tickle in the throat during the last b-flat, I'm sure that didn't sound exactly the way I wanted it to, but on the whole, quite good, storm offstage and what do I see?

Rob, my Tamino, standing there with a tray of McDonalds - big Mac, fries, and a vanilla milkshake, and I'm laughing and jumping up and down so much I'm afraid I'll disturb the scene that's still going on.  I'm pulling off my gloves as fast as I can because those are fries and they need to be in my mouth as fast as possible and I can see the costume staff inwardly cringing so I take the tray back to my dressing room, tell Rob that I will kiss his face soundly once I've got all this makeup off, and then the dressers take turns photographing the Queen, stuffing her face with a burger.  

Back story: last Saturday, when the performance was going really well, I came off after the 2nd aria and there was Rob and Roddy, just hanging about and listening until their next entrance and I said to them, "you know, I just get so hungry singing this role but I don't dare eat a thing until after the 2nd aria is over.  I could so eat a big dirty burger or fish and chips or something."  They found this hilarious, and Rob said that one night, he wouldn't say when, he would appear with a burger for me after that second aria.  I thought he was totally kidding, and we had a good laugh about it, so for him to appear with a burger when I'm coming down from that second aria high was just about the best feeling ever.  All of my self-criticism about my singing vanished, all of my worries about the sniffles vanished, and I could only think about how hilarious this was, and how wonderful my castmates are to do such silly and thoughtful things.  And also, I began to plot exactly how I will surprise him next time......must plan must plan.....

The show ended, the audience was marvelously responsive (though I'm sure that most of the shouting for me was from my small entourage that came to visit) and then I was getting changed as quickly as possible to get out there when the conductor stuck his head through my door.  He said it was an amazing night for me, and that I had hit the nail right on the head.  

It still makes the hairs on my arms stand up to think about him saying that, to think of the audience roaring, and how happy this whole process makes me.  Later, after drinks with my friends, we were talking about how hard it can be to find something new in Flute, to make the orchestra play with the kind of enthusiasm that comes when a piece is fresh and straight off the page.  But really, for me, this has been about finding new ways to express myself through the work - new ways to let myself off the leash without completely letting go of the reins, how to play the scene fast and hard without singing fast and hard, and also how to temper what other people say with what I know happened on the stage.  

I know that I'm still smarting from the critics.  I know I am.  It hurts to have your name printed up with such awful adjectives and mean-spirited opinions.  It's horrible.  And it makes you question everything you do and how you do it and whether or not it's even worth it to go on with the next performance.  Because this is an extension of ourselves, of our deepest and innermost desires, and we're about to dress it up and put it onstage for others to see, and hopefully to enjoy.  It's their right to say that I'm too young or that they don't like my singing.  They are entitled to create a blog that's all about their criticism of arts events and post what they think, just as I'm entitled to say what I think here on my blog.  But I should not let any of those people into that spot in my heart, the spot that still swells from hearing the overture and skips a beat when the walls part, the part that gets hurt when I think someone doesn't respect my work.  Because that spot is still mine, most cherished, and I should protect it and nurture it.  Because I love my job, and I want to continue to love it.  

So while they're all entitled to their opinion, I will kindly ask them to piss off, please.  My friends are waiting out there, and they're waiting to watch me kill.  Which I did.