Like a Deer in the Headlights

I had my first casting agency audition yesterday. It did not go as well as I had hoped. The few times I've auditioned for the camera, I have been unnaturally relaxed. I find acting for the camera a very intimate and personal experience, and I am comfortable with that. But lately, I have become jumpy and insecure with auditions and performing, and I nearly sabotage myself with fears, especially the fear of forgetting my lines. I am experienced enough that I should not be concerned about forgetting my lines, but my demons are springing up again, convincing me that for some odd reason, my memory is failing.

First of all, I had to wait an hour and 15 min for my audition, even though it was scheduled for a specific time. Waiting for an audition is always difficult; I have not mastered the art of staying focused and relaxed for an extended period of time. I understand, however, that auditions get backed up, so I am patient. When they finally ushered me in, (and I could tell the guy was tired and really just wanted to go get a sandwich), I suddenly became very insecure about the way I looked; specifically, I was aware that my nipples were popping through my form-fitting shirt. I'm not kidding. It was as if they suddenly came to life with the camera, and I was painfully aware that they would be captured on screen. Ugh. I started my monologue, and about three lines in, my mind went, uhhh, what's the next thing I'm supposed to say? SHIT. panic. panic. Oh, yeah, something about lemonade: "blah, blah, bl-" NO! Not that! She DIDN'T make me lemonade. "Uh..." backpeddle. fumble. Go on.

So, I finished up the monologue, and I may have even had a good moment or two, but I know that fumble counted against me. Like dead air on a radio station. Then, I read from a script, and it was perfect, at least from my point of view. I had the whole thing memorized (??) (see how crazy this is? I blank out on a monologue that I've had memorized, but something I just got an hour earlier, I know by heart). Then, the guy was like, "Ok. Thanks." Practically shoving me out of the door, he did not ask me to fill out additional paperwork like some of the girls before me did. Mmm.

Basically, I got a false start on my monologue, and I very well may have blown a potentially important audition. It's impossible to judge, but... I have a bad feeling. So, how to avoid this? For starters, I think I'm going to start monologues differently. I am going to start them as if I am going to sing. Which is, first: BREATHE. I always forget to breathe.

And I need to just forget about my nipples. Gah!

I'm not sure if heart attacks are "covered"

I nearly went into cardiac arrest today when I received a bill in the mail. It was from my doctor, and the amount I owed, from neatly tallied visit expenses, was nearly $500.

Mr. P and I, who are basically self-employed, have new health insurance as of this year. I was very proud of myself for finding an "affordable" plan that would cover routine doctor visits (at least, that's what I understood), in exchange for a low monthly payment and $25 co-pays. We had been without insurance for the better part of 2006, and we were no longer willing to play with fate.

Last year, I became afflicted with periodic dizzy spells, which picked up in frequency earlier this year. Not one to ever rush to the doctor, I feared my body might be trying to tell me something, and I decided to get it checked out. During the course of my visits to the doctor, during which time I had my heart thoroughly tested and checked out, I would receive statements from my insurance company, with detail of office and tests expenses, "repriced" amounts and, in a little box on the bottom, a number, under a column titled, "covered medical." Each of these statements came with the heading, "This is NOT a bill." So, I thought, 'how nice! They are covering all of my expenses! Wow. Isn't it nice to have insurance again?'

Until today, I thought I was one lucky American. Michael Moore was wrong; some Americans don't pay much for insurance and still get their expenses covered. Then the bill came, the bill I was not expecting, and my illusion was shattered. And I feel like such an idiot for believing otherwise.

The irony of the whole thing is, I may not have gone to the doctor at all for these dizzy spells, if I had known I would be paying for so many of the tests. (Yes, that is how cheap I am.) As it turned out, my dizzy spells miraculously stopped - and I mean STOPPED - a few days after my last visit to the doctor. Was it psychological? I'm not sure. The tests (and I took many) confirmed that my heart was in perfect working order, so thank goodness for that; I am certainly grateful to be in good health. For today, at least, I will not be a woman who suffers from heart disease and is unaware of it.

Basically, what I received as an insured patient was a discount on my expenses. I suppose it's not the end of the world. I don't pay high taxes, and now I know that I am in excellent health. However, I am concerned about what will happen if I, or Mr. P, ever actually get sick.

Go- ji!

If you have not tried goji juice, or the goji berry, you may want to check it out. Since I started taking it (drinking it, that is), I have had no bouts of depression, I feel less overwhelmed, and my energy level is better. And I was a skeptic when I first tried it.

Insanity

MSNBC.com has an article about the pressures that opera singers are under today, and it is scary. Kudos to them for bringing this to the forefront; I think many people, including actual singers, have no idea how ugly the business can be.

Singing with a Cold

I sang at a wedding yesterday, and I was full of cold. I admit that there are worse things than the common cold. I'd take a cold any day over many other diseases, but I would say that a cold can be a major inconvenience. Especially for a singer, a cold runs you down and literally clogs and mucks up your instrument. Still, many singers insist on slugging through, and I did.

I only needed to sing Schubert's "Ave Maria," which is not a taxing song. A few days after coming down with my cold, I noticed, with surprise, that my voice was more or less still intact, as opposed to last November, when a more severe cold caused me to lose my speaking voice for several days, and my singing voice for several weeks. So, I had hope, even preferring to sing the song a whole step higher (in C, rather than B-flat), where it sounded much better in my real voice.

Mr. P, who played the guitar with me, recommended instead that we sing it in A, which was much easier for him to play, but middle voice for me. I finally agreed after noticing that my usual high voice felt pinched and kept falling flat. When I finally got up to sing during the wedding, my head was compacted with congestion, and my heart was pounding; I was not sure what was going to come out. Somehow, something came out, though rather straight toned and held in, from my distorted opinion. When I sat down, Mr. P smiled and said it was "gorgeous," and afterwards, a few wedding guests even told me what a "beautiful" voice I had. So, there you have it. I slogged through!

Here are a few useful tips I found for singing with a cold. The site is more for pop singers, but the advice is applicable for classical singers, too. Also, you can check out the singing with a cold FAQ from the same site. I think there are no hard rules for singing with a cold. You just need to use your judgment.

Ceilidhs and haggis are best with a Scottish accent

I am freshly home from opera camp, that is: the Oxenfoord International School for singers and pianists in St. Andrews, Scotland. I worked with some impressive faculty, including Paul Wynne-Griffiths of Covent Garden, international concert accompanist Malcolm Martineau, and Head of Vocal Studies at Guildhall School of Music Robin Bowman, and many others. My head is swimming with new information, and I am anxious to crack open some new repertoire, but I must give it a few days, as my throat is little raw from the travel and temperature change, as well as hard-working American air conditioning.

I would recommend this program to any singer who would like a taste of European musical education as well as additional experience for their resume and general well-being. I performed in a masterclass (with no less than the estimable Irish mezzo Ann Murray), in a student showcase recital, and in opera scenes. There is a strong focus on German lieder at this program, so one should be prepared for that, but there is everything else from Baroque to lighter rep, such as musical theatre and folk melodies. I am especially fond of French song, so my time with Robin Bowman was invaluable.


On the touristy side, I thoroughly enjoyed Britain. Both the Scots and the English could not have been more pleasant and friendly, and Edinburgh is a beautiful city, in an unassuming way. St. Andrews, too, is charming, as well as tiny, but its ruins are impressively large (or echo what used to be large) and inspiring. My whole adventure had a Harry Potter feel to it, having left for Britain just a few days after the latest film and the last book came out, and then taking the train from King's Cross station in London to Edinburgh and then onto to a school that could double for Hogwarts and was without a doubt haunted. (I didn't see any ghosts, thankfully, but one of the passageways at the school was unabashedly named after a ghost. At least they're comfortable with the idea.)

And no, I didn't touch any haggis.