Archive | August, 2011

August in Review

31 Aug

I feel like I’ve been neglecting my blog! August has come and gone. What have I been up to?

There were tons of nail painting parties:


Tons of good food:

Tons of good friends:

And.. one dead bird, which I laid to rest:

August is the month where I get back into the swing of things–when I remember that I am first and foremost a singer, when I remember that you never laugh harder than when you’re with your friends, and when I am reminded that no matter how long you’ve been away from a place you love, coming back still feels like the Right Thing to do.

The hardest adjustment is the work load, of course. I’ve spent all summer getting paid to play–so returning to my stressful practice schedule and commitments is not necessarily the easiest change to make. It’s a strange exchange–I love lazing about, but when I am lazing about, I miss the hustle and bustle of school. But here I am, ready to work.

Now that I’m a junior in college (where did the time go?), I’ve got to start focusing on Big Girl things. First? A junior recital. 30 minutes of All Georgeanne Singing. Next? Thinking about applying to grad schools, summer programs, and competitions.

When did I grow up?


Goodbye For Now

13 Aug

It’s never goodbye, it’s always “see you later.” Bye, Little Rock! See you so, so soon.

And Knowing is Half the Battle

4 Aug

If you ask me, “Opera and music theater. Huh. How’d you get into that?” (as so many people have, usually when referring to classical music [which, for some reason, is inherently more Zany and Weird than MT]), I will give you an answer. I will tell you. And I’ll look something like this:

except not dr. sue, sex therapist

Because the truth is, I don’t know. I’m pretty upfront about that. It differentiates me from the millions of other performers who have some half-true, half-dreamed story usually involving a childhood experience at the theater that uncovered a hidden, smoldering flame for stardom. You know, the ones where a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kid is sitting in the worn down, plush seats of your Hometown Theater, probably watching the 39th non-equity tour of CATS, when it suddenly just.. strikes the child (in a paranormal, emotional bolt of lightening not at all related to the chocolate-covered nuts this child consumed at intermission) that this is what he/she is made to do.

oh, brother

I don’t doubt the validity of 90% of these claims. I think the other 10% is embellished, perhaps for good “about me” pages and performance biography material.

But as for me, I don’t have a story like that. Well, let me rephrase. I do have lots of childhood stories of sitting in plush seats, watching THE KING AND I, GODSPELL, or any number of other musicals. I was one of those kids, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed at the lights, the scenery, the dancing, the costumes. Ask me about what my mom and I did on the weekends and I will tell you that she’d put the A CHORUS LINE cast recording on our turntable and sing “At the Ballet.” I loved the theater. My entire life I’ve been surrounded by music. (Thanks, Mom!)

And yet? Here I am, almost twenty-one years old, halfway done with my undergraduate degree in vocal performance. I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. Now how’d that happen?

Four years ago, I was a junior in high school, applying to college. I attended a well-regarded arts magnet school and singing was a Big Deal to me. All-Region, All-State, solo festival–those were the true markers of success. Those numbers mattered. Still, other numbers mattered, too, and even in my zeal for singing, I couldn’t help but be moderately obsessed with my other grades, too. Okay, maybe completely obsessed. I was an overachiever, okay? There is a difference between 99% and 100%.

I applied to college initially thinking I would triple major in literature, political science, and some sort of cultural studies major–preferably third world studies. I was going to be a human rights lawyer.

But something was missing. In the back of my mind, I wanted to sing. Nothing else mattered but singing, truly. Politics was a passion, and changing the world a goal, but I knew that I wasn’t meant to accomplish change through civil service. I was meant to change the world through art. What stopped me from doing it? Honestly? Bear with me here.

Fear. I mean, come on, it’s not like theater (in any form, classical music or MT), for all its acceptance and tolerance, is the easiest world to make a name in.

You’re probably in the throes of lizlemoneyeroll.gif face right now, and I can’t say that I blame you.

you mean to tell me that she "just knew"?

It’s contrived but totally true. At some point, I had to give up the safety and security of a stable career and admit to myself that I wanted to be on stage. And that it didn’t matter whether or not I was good enough, but that I was doing it. When I did, it was like a Carnegie Hall Sized Weight was taken off of my shoulders. I had always known that this was what I wanted to do. Singing was natural for me. From listening to “At the Ballet” with my mom to watching the ballet Coppelia, I have always, somehow, known, that this was for me. This is for me, it is me, it will be me two days from now and two centuries from now.

How’d I get into opera and musical theatre? Well, for all my “not knowing”–

I just knew.

Shots Fired

3 Aug

Every so often, a change comes along that forces a perfectly good singer with a perfectly good headshot to have to get new ones done. That change, for me, came in May of this year when I decided to go brunette. Even after a good four months of living life with darker hair, I can’t help but double-take when I look at myself in the mirror.

I was lucky enough to get shot (hee hee) by Nelson Chenault. What do you think?