Living: A question of what and how.

#Copland #Promise of Living

I don't want to write. I just want to cycle through the thoughts and emotions but don't want to painfully release them.  I've been sad these past few days. Certainly of my own doing. I have to get through this next "change" phase which I've yet again brought upon myself.  Leaving a job is always easy the moment I leave it and always devastatingly difficult when I realize I have to find a new one. Not to mention being cooped up, sick, for nearly three days with little outside communication or activity.  Many times, and often people don't believe me, I am quite lonely.  It brings me back to my ongoing theme of the year....living! According to Mr. Webster, living is the state of being alive, thriving, being active.  Sometimes, I feel I have the being alive part down but to what degree.  I certainly don't feel like I'm thriving and well, active?  Ha, I'm not the run and jump kind of girl.  Which brings me to self motivation and an unwillingness to change.  I so easily recognize this perpetual flaw of mine and so strictly resist changing my ways.  I desire to be more active, more self motivated but it is far easier for me to find reasons NOT to do something than to do it.  Was this learned behavior? Was I merely taught to accept? Why am I always my own worst enemy, yet it is wrong to want to grow and change? Very conflicting ideas I have towards this topic.  All I know is, when given to much time to actively think while being rather inactive, I slip into the abyss of contemplation, pensiveness and sometimes even despair.  This poor cycle must change. I must light an eternal flame under my rather lazy ass before I look back and realize, I never lived at all.  I don't particularly care for life. Rather, I should say this life in which I feel I had no choice to live. Perhaps, if my life were under different circumstances,  living in a parallel universe in which society was completely opposite from what today's is, or if I were in a different socio-economic class, I might feel differently.  But alas, I don't.  I have always felt a misfit, a victim to a society I don't particularly enjoy and yet when I experience joy it truly is that, joyful! I digress.

There is so much more to me than what people care to know or seek to learn further of. However, I put it out there for all of you to see. This is the real me, or at least a part of the real me.  A me who is often confused by how to live, what rules to follow or break and how I may learn to live, truly live as to feel that I have done good.

Aaron Copland: The Promise of Living: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLM_YTnmLto

I will do what I can do

So it's not exactly classical music but it's not exactly pop music either.....Much of Peter Gabriel's music touches my soul while simultaneously cutting deeply into it. In a slight deferment from traditional classical music, please allow me to relish in this eerily beautiful song.

If either of you who follow this blog, all two of you ;), have ever listened to the music of PG beyond that of "Sledgehammer," "Solsbury Hill" and "In Your Eyes"you already know that he is extremely gifted at getting at matters of the heart, as if he literally breaks through your rib cage, digs deep into your chest and grabs hold of your heart, squeezing tightly. He makes you listen, he forces you to feel. It's not gentle, it's invasive and primal, but once you do listen and truly do hear, you leave the music feeling known.

It's a miracle that we are not alone. I have to remind myself of that each and every day as it is so easy to believe that I will forever be lonely and alone. Please hear the words of this piece and say you will do what you can do.

-Though you may disappear you're not forgotten here and I will say to you, "I will do what I can do." You may disappear, you're not forgotten here and I will say to you, "I will do what I can do."

http://www.vevo.com/watch/peter-gabriel/wallflower-live-on-letterman/TIVEV1197554?code=AQD6n8Zwju0pnu_XNmai4AxuQeE2y4LVGIH7zDsRzrkD7YZzl3frtmwOh5Cpg5e0nv6LseDkrXs4qkJDcy4X4buiKcmskuvQPW17alWPnGig9IRZEFBp8c9AN6qVqqSeTELjE50g4B7KAOzWs5cJCo4i34WRjZhCf6JOGyCmGBbqUcA3Qr1sU7b9g4hunxcG9DA#_=_

Marietta's Lied

Last evening, I attended a concert which featured music compositions by two Jewish composers, Kurt Weill and Erich Korngold, written around the time of WWII (pre and post).

One aria that was performed was Korngold's "Marietta's Lied" from the opera "Die tote Stadt." If I had ever heard this aria before last evening, I do not recall it in the least. But last night it peaked my curiousity because it is not only a perfect aria for me to learn but it also touches upon a topic very dear to me and probably to most of us who breath and rationalize. That being love.

My current love life is definitely lacking, but that is not to say that I have not or do not presently love. But the pain of love, that which exists simultaneously with love, is real. This is precisely what "Marietta's Lied" speaks of. Here is the translation:

Joy, that near to me remains,

Come to me my true love

Night sinks into the grove.

You are my light and day.

Anxiously beats heart on heart.

Hope itself soars heavenward.

How true, a sad song.

The song of true love,

that must die.

I know the song.

I heard it often in younger,

in better days.

It has yet another verse.

Do I know it still?

Though sorrow becomes dark,

Come to me, my true love.

Lean (to me) your pale face.

Death will not separate us.

If you must leave me one day,

Believe, there is an afterlife.

That which jumps out at me is the phrase, "Do I know it still?" Do I? It has been quite some time since I have been in a relationship or been loved with mutual affection, but does that make my love less real? I think not. And although I do not know mutual love, I know that which is unexplainable. That which does not necessarily require two hearts. I know my one heart's love is sufficient.

"Marietta's Lied" performed by Elizabeth Schwarzkopf.....ENJOY THE BEAUTY!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoGQd1dsAlw

Back from the Brink

A year and a half ago I started this blog and never continued it as I had promised myself. You see back then, little did I know, I was spiraling out of control. So much so that I wanted to die. I wanted to end my life so that I no longer felt overwhelmed. There I said it.

In October of 2009 I hit rock bottom. A kind of bottom I had never experienced before. Sure I had always experienced life one paycheck at a time and sure I felt lonely and frustrated with no loving partner or an established singing career, but this feeling was unlike any other, this feeling was all consuming. It wasn't simply sadness, it was fear and I had no idea how to control it or how to rid myself of it. All that I could hear was that hope was lost, that my life would be better if it were over.

My troubles of having no money or a romantic relationship or a new show to look forward to remained important to me but this time the fear of living outweighed them all. The unbearable stress of not knowing how to manage my life came across me like a tornado, unexpected and quick, wiping out all possibility of hope. I found myself walking for hours on end, having no destination in mind. I'd walk dozens of blocks, popping into shops and staring at racks and shelves of merchandise not knowing what I liked or for how long I'd like it if I did at all. Where was I headed and why did I feel so helpless and lost? Would this feeling ever subside.

It did subside now and again but with each day a new circumstantial trigger would set off the fear and I'd snowball back to the mindset of death. "This can't be it. There must be more," I thought, but there wasn't. Instead I found myself perched on a Brooklyn curb rocking back and forth, crying and thinking about how I could get myself up to NY Presbyterian Hospital. Instead, I spent the day balling my eyes out at a friends home only to return back to an empty Queens apartment later that night. It was time. Time to take action, time to no longer resist the inevitable, taking control by giving it up!

More to come in future blog entries, but now on to the music....

Like all previous entries, I have never heard this piece before. I am not sure why I chose Penderecki tonight but this piece depicts specifically the emotion I felt in my description. Please do not watch the video, rather solely listen and contemplate the emotions I portrayed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwaEOyOw9tk

Songs My Mother Taught Me

Growing up in a blue collar, Pentecostal home did not exactly lend itself to listening to highbrow classical music. Rather, I was fed a nice dose of Barbra, Dino, and Billy Joel. Each Saturday, while attending to the never ending duties of household chores, at least two LP's were spun to get Mom, my sister and I in the cleaning spirit. The first was Barbra Streisand's self titled album "Barbra" and the second, usually a contemporary Christian CD of songs or hymns. Mom innately sang harmony, insisting through her sweet timbred chest voice that she was, in fact, an alto. I, however, knew better as she faked her way past high C with extreme ease. Not one foot stepped outside before she inspected and approved of our work. Re-vacuumming was not unheard of and so Saturday mornings, and often afternoons, were spent with ammonia and Streisand.

In between albums, Mom and I played the "Can You Match This Pitch?" game with my sister.

"Sing this note.....Laaaa."

"Laaaa."

"Close. Hahaha!"

Mom and I chuckled, knowing full well that my sister was terribly off pitch. Clearly, singing in our house was reserved for Mom and me.

When I was sixteen, after a couple of years of studying voice with my cousin and a few months of muscling under the direction of a misunderstanding operatic diva, Mom enrolled me in the preparatory division at Mannes College of Music. This is a high class institution with a world renowned reputation and I was lucky enough to have a mother who researched the educational opportunities available to her child. Each week, she drove me to the Upper West Side of Manhattan (nearly a 2 hour drive each way), where I studied voice and music theory. She was determined that I be prepared for college auditions. So, while I sang on the third floor of an old Manhattan brownstone, Mom sat alone at the corner diner waiting to hear if this week's lesson was a success. In true mom fashion, she silently vowed to join me on this difficult journey of pursuing a career in music. Although this was not her personal journey, she chose to travel it with me and even today, she is there. Her dedication never waivers, but it is painful to see her weary in spirit. When I experience joy she too experiences it but when I experience sorrow, which unfortunately is more common, she feels that as well. Perhaps I should let her go, allowing her to worry less, but who will then travel this road with me?

The songs my mother taught me were not songs of discipline or technique. They were songs of whimsy and love, faith and hope. They were songs that spoke to her heart, lifted her spirit and helped her through the mundane responsibilities of life.

Mom still sings but she also cries. She wonders what happened to her baby girl's joy. I wonder too.

Dvorak's "Songs my Mother Taught Me" sung by Kirstin Flagstad.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyV_zExfj10

Songs my mother taught me,
In the days long vanished;
Seldom from her eyelids
Were the teardrops banished.
Now I teach my children,
Each melodious measure.
Oft the tears are flowing,
Oft they flow from my memory's treasure.

A Poor Choice?

Music. I did not choose it. It chose me. Likely a poor choice on its part, but nevertheless a choice.

Surely, studies have been conducted and scientific evidence provided as to how people are gifted with certain talents and why they feel the insatiable need to attach themselves to those talents. Regardless, I have attached myself and the uncertainty of knowing whether or not I'll ever succeed continuously haunts me. Success, in all its subjective glory, matters not right now. Today, I push aside the judge in order to consider why I do what I do and why I must continue to do it, even if it is hard to accept the inevitable failures. Joyce DiDonato, on her website's vlog (http://www.youtube.com/user/TheYankeediva?feature=mhum) may have said it best, "No matter where you end up on your journey, you will have had the immense privilege of spending time with music."

And so, today I am spending time with Leonardo Balada's Guernica.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBQNqhLH0Yc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HvlJc7_ntc8&feature=related

Born Again Bat Mitzvah

First, let me begin by saying, this blog has little to nothing to do with the critical writings of Anthony Tomassini or the mediocre vocals of Nicole Tori. Rather, it is merely a catchy title, created to potentially lure you into reading my rants. Perhaps, in the future, a parallel will be drawn, but currently it's just a name. Now onto the blog entry.....

Today is my Born Again Bat Mitzvah! Amen! Mazaltov! Praise God! No, I'm not creating a new Judeo-Christian denomination or joining Jews for Jesus. Rather, I'm referring to my faith in music. This is not a calling to read the Torah, but rather a desire to listen, in reverence, to classical music I would not otherwise hear at the opera house or theatre. Don't go getting your panties in a bunch, "She's making music her religion?!?. Idle worship! Blasphemy!" Relax!

For the next 365 days (gosh, now this sounds like The Daily Bible) I plan on listening to at least one classical piece a day. Clearly, this is not my foray into the listening or study of classical music (thank you conservatory training and a $35,000 student loan later...uh hum), but it is the first time in many years that I feel a strong need to simply listen and not do.

Thanks in part to the NYPhil, whose season began with a lovely work by Hindemith, helping to remind me why I began doing what I do, I will now begin my Amy Adams-esque rendition of "Tori & Tomassini".

Today, for no particular reason other than that their surnames begin with "A" I will listen to Thomas Ades' (b. 1971) Piano Quintet and Isaac Albeniz's "Asturias" for classical guitar. Both pieces are first time "listens" for me. Hope you enjoy as well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEfFbuT3I6A

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLOdqOhnf4Q

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYmBSBZL1-w&feature=related