I was eating breakfast and drinking
out of my favorite mug and my mind wandered to the memory behind the mug.
It all began when I was taking voice
lessons as a young 11/12 yr old. My teacher (being the proper teacher she
was) trained me on classical songs. She started me on easy ones like Caro
Mio Ben. Pretty soon my voice was fairly well developed and I could sing
pretty much anything (or so I thought until I turned 25 and I realized there’s
even more!)
She was such a dear. Of course
I didn't realize how not good I actually was. She tirelessly tried to
teach me to site read and I could not seem to connect the dots. She never
told me I couldn't do a piece I wanted to either. I've had voice teachers
since say "I wouldn't try that." (Of course, I always do it
anyway). Once I brought her this really complicated opera song and she
broke it down for me note by note, rhythm by rhythm till I had it memorized
backwards and forwards. Of course, when I performed it in front of people
I choked but the point is--I had a great teacher.
In her efforts to train me well she
told me to submit for opera competitions. Here's how I got in: we
tirelessly practiced and submitted these CDs of me singing in the comfort of my
voice teacher's home.
It was when I got in front of people
that the stage fright was too unbearable for me to perform. I always
tried, poor soul.
So I went in to the first competition
naive enough to think I had nothing to fear. Then, suddenly, I found
myself in my first "holding room" ever (up until that point I had
waited in a giant auditorium with my friends for musicals tryouts).
I heard REAL opera singers.
This just sent my inferiority complex to max levels.
I don't even remember the actual
audition. The one thing I do remember is the adorable woman who led our
group line up to the door of the audition. She smilingly sympathized with
her nerves (I remember thinking "this girl has never been nervous in her
life. What could she possibly know?").
Then she told us her audition
trick. Before she walks into a room she says to herself, "I'm
fabulous and everybody loves me." We laughed and the tension
suddenly broke as she had us repeat, "I'm fabulous and everybody loves
me."
It would be years before I discovered
that everybody has a different trick and that you have to find what works for
you. I didn’t really work for me.
But that phrase has always been the catalyst that got me thinking,
"I have to know I'm good right before I go on or I'll never BE good."
This was the Spotlight Awards and I
never made it to the next round. I
went to another competition and in this one, I majorly choked because I was so
nervous I stopped breathing. Most
important lesson in life: BREATHE!
Anyway, I burst into tears as soon as
we made it out the doors. My
friends were sweetly trying to consol me while my mother stood there unsure
what to do (my family doesn’t do emotional well). It didn’t make a difference. I violently cried.
I managed words between sobs, “I…was…terrible!”
Why couldn’t I believe I was fabulous
and everybody loved me? Because I
guess I was always that child who was extremely observant and deeply
cared. I took everything and
internalized it. If my mother
sighed I would think she was disinterested in what I had to say. But that’s too much psychoanalysis of
myself for this particular writing piece.
Suffice to say, I would continue to
sing the rest of my life, even land a lead role in a musical. But it would be many years before I
truly believed that I was fabulous or that anyone loved me.
One day my voice teacher informed me
that I had been invited to sing for a Ladies Luncheon for some ladies on the
board (I believe) of Opera Pacific.
I’m fairly positive they picked someone else and when that person
bailed, my voice teacher had favor with them somehow and they asked her if she
had any students who could do it.
My voice teacher was always good at pulling things together last
minute. How do you explain
something as strange as that otherwise?
It gets stranger.
When I arrived I found myself in the
entryway of this historic house in Yorba Linda with none other than the winner
of the Spotlight Awards. I was
flabbergasted. They had sent us a
complimentary DVD shortly after the awards of the awards themselves and I had
watched this girl take home the 1,000 dollar scholarship prize.
She was even more sweet and humble in
real life. I was sort of star
struck! I just couldn’t believe
what was happening. By some stroke
of luck or favor to my voice teacher I (the loser) was suddenly singing on par
with the winner of the Spotlight awards.
After the performance, I received a
goodie bag as a thank you. Inside
that goodie bag was this mug from one of their productions of Carmen, which,
ironically, is the only opera I’ve ever seen.
Again, I don’t remember how the
performance went. But you can bet
that I sang better than all of those auditions. I wasn’t trying to earn anyone’s approval. I was just enjoying the glory. Someone had finally given me a stage
and I was finally beginning to believe that I was at least a little fabulous.
