The swingset that made me cry

Three years ago, I never thought I'd ever get to see a swingset in my back yard. Three years ago, I never thought I'd ever hear the giggling laughter of a child as she called out "Mommy, push me higher!" Three years ago, I never thought we'd ever have a child.

But today, my little girl's face lit up the moment she saw the swingset her Daddy has made for her. She ran to it and cried out, "Swing me, Mommy!" And we swung and swung and swung until she noticed the slide and decided she wanted to stop swinging for a moment and "Go Slide Now, Daddy." Three rungs up and my little girl crawled over to the slide and slid down - two little waves and then plop - butt in the dirt - and giggles all around. "Again, again!" and she was up the ladder and across the platform and down. And then the swing again. And after watching her cousin Gabby tackle the rings, Jenny grabbed one in each hand, tugged up her feet and held on for dear life.

And that sweet sound of giggling laughter, like creek water over rocks, filled my heart to the point of tears. Those tears that suddenly rose to my eyes were of pure and simple joy. A prayer come true.

Three years ago, there was no hope for us ever conceiving a child, let alone carrying it to full term.
Now, I have Jenny.
And a swingset in my backyard.

Jenny Dreamed of Trains

It seems John Denver wrote a song for my little girl. I should send him a thank you for giving her a better song than, "Jenny (867-5309)." This is the song and I have just fallen in love with it. It is so very much the way I hoped my daughter would be: a little bit strange, and a little bit magical.

When Jenny was a little girl she only dreamed of trains
She never played with dolls or lacy kinds of things
Jenny counted boxcars instead of countin' sheep
She could go anywhere when she went to sleep

All she ever talked about was gettin' on to ride
She was livin' in another time you could see it in her eyes
Everyday after school she'd head down to the tracks
Waitin' for the train that was never comin' back

Jenny dreamed of trains
When the nighttime came
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains

The depot's been boarded up, the rails have turned to rush
There hasn't been a train through here since the mill went bust
No one believed her when she said she heard the train
She was just a little girl actin' kinda strange

Jenny dreamed of trains
When the nighttime came
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains

Jenny laid a penny on the track one day
In God we trust she walked away
The very next mornin' all that she could find
Was a little piece of copper squashed flatter than a dime

Jenny dreamed of trains
When the nighttime came
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains

And the rest is silence

In the aftermath of my recent audition, I find the silence in my head this evening to be absolutely refreshing. I'm not rehashing my audition and I'm not preparing for a call back, as I know it will not come. I have learned much from this process and today is good chance to reflect on what exactly I got out of all of this nonsense.

(So pardon me as I ruminate.)

I decided to do this audition about a month ago when a certain person in my life laughed at the sheer possibility of my taking on something so bold. (And no, that person wasn't my husband.) If I didn't still hold such resentment toward this person, I might actually consider thanking him for his rudeness.

After taking such a leap and making the appointment, there were countless opportunities for me to cancel. All I had to do was send an email - so sorry, but I won't be auditioning . . . .thanks anyway - or something along those lines. I'm well practiced at chickening out, so I'm sure I'd have come up with something. But I didn't chicken out this time; I didn't quit.

Even when I knew the choreographer had given up on me, I didn't quit. Even when they told us we'd have to cut our songs down to 12 to 16 bars instead of the 32 I'd prepared, I didn't quit. I survived . . . persevered even . . . maybe.

When I enterred the vocal room and the accompanist actually thanked me for setting up the music the way I did - I felt like I belonged there. And in my mind, I said a silent thank you to my choir mistress for the advice she'd given me. She hadn't held back when giving me notes on how to do this or that and I put each piece of advice to use. I can say I have no regrets about my audition, other than I maybe tried too hard, but who can fault me for that?

It was funny how'd I'd agonized about what I was going to wear for the dance audition - how I'd bought a pair of shoes especially for that and never wore them. (I'll probably take them back to DSW tomorrow - maybe.) When it came down to the dance audition, I never had the chance to change anything but my shoes. I'd been one of the last in my group to do the vocal audition, so I just threw on my tennis shoes and danced in the nice outfit I'd picked out so I'd look professional for the singing part.  By the time I was finished, my face was beautifully flushed, my hair still looked great, and no one could tell I was drenched with sweat underneath it all. I was completely buzzing when I walked out of that audition - not because I thought I'd nailed it, but because I knew that I'd survived with my head up and a cheerleader smile on my face.

I had a great deal of help along the way. If not for the advice I'd gotten from Shawnie and Kim on how to perform and appear professional; if not the for the tiny tidbits I stole from Patrick and Procco and even Huff; if not for the people I met and instantly liked at this audition; if not for the support (that I hadn't even realized I'd needed) from my FB friends and family - I don't think I could've gotten through this.

But I did. I did get through this.

And today everything went back to what it was before. Jenny had a doctor's appointment, so we ate lunch early, napped early and got to the appointment late because I had no gas in my car. And this evening, I'll probably curl up with a book for a few moments before going to bed.

And ever so slowly, I'll go back to the way things were before I decided to fill my every waking moment preparing for a 2 minute vocal audition and a 30 minute dance debaucle. And somewhere after Friday, I'll get an email telling me what I already know - that I was not chosen to play the lead role in this musical. Oh well  - I'll decide - that's really what I wanted anyway.

I've gained so much from this experience though - a rediscovery of someone I used to be inside and that alone was worth it. I'm truly not disappointed in myself. Really.

And the rest is silence . . . .

Ferris Bueller

If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

This audition process has been the strangest and most exciting process so far. And the learning process alongside of it all has just amazed me. I have some really great people around me from whom I have learned so much.

"Let me explain . . . No it's too much . . . let me sum up . . . " (Princess Bride)

A week ago, I had two songs picked out and practiced for this audition on the 17th: Stay With Me and I Don't Know How to Love Him. I had been leaning heavily on the piece from Into the Woods, because I love the musical and thought I could do a really good job with it. So I recorded the piece with my little camera and then decided - what the hell - I'll record the other one as well. I refused to listen to them at first. I was so afraid I would hate them both and chicken out completely.

So I turned to my husband and asked him (since I'd sung them at the top of my lungs - jk) which one he preferred. He liked the one from JCS the best - said it sounded just like the the one on the album and that I should go with it. Plus, he doesn't share my LOVE for ItheW. Go figure.

So I listened to the recordings of both songs and of course, Tim was right. At this point, however, I wasn't convinced. So I took both songs to my choir mistress (I love calling her that) and asked her opinion - mostly so I could get the pieces marked correctly for the accompanist at the audition, but also to see if she'd help me practice with a live instrument. Afterwards, she also said that the JCS piece sounded better and showed off my voice more. I hate when Tim's right - most of the time.

Okay, so I was convinced to change the song. As long as I don't screw up the words, I should be fine. The tone of it sounds good. My choir mistress said I just needed to mind my country twang when I sing it. Mind my country twang? That's all?! I had to laugh. I think I can do that.

So then came the resume and the headshot. The resume wasn't as lacking as I thought it would be. One thing though made me laugh - under "special skills" - I have none. That was a bit of a disappointment until I realized that as teachers we has to dabble in a little of everything, leaving us little time to specialize in anything. So I was tempted to list my special skills as: being a good teacher and a mom. I didn't think that would go over so professionally. oh well...

The headshots were possibly the deal breaker here and almost frightened me away from the whole thing. As much as I love the spotlight, I hate how I look in it. The idea of having a photographer focus completely on me was just uncomfortable at best. I suppose this is why God sent me such great family. My little photographer made it fun and laughed with me instead of staring at me and gave me so much control and say over what and when and how, that I felt almost comfortable with the attention. And the photos she took are amazing. Here's the one I'm going with for the audition - mostly because it's the one that's most how I want to be seen - slightly playful with a mischievous gleam in my eye.

So this week - as I'm trying to stay healthy and un-nervous, I'm going to tweak everything and hope for the best. I guess I should take some time to slow down a little this week, take some time to look around. Who knows what I might miss if I don't?

The Recognition of Fear

"What you get by reaching your
destination is not nearly as
important as what you will become
by reaching your destination."
- Zig Ziglar

I try to keep this particular quote in my brain as I work towards putting the right amount of emotion into the song I've picked out for my audition. I've found myself trying out three other songs, just to see how they feel on my vocal chords. None of them feels quite right.

I've watched the auditions for AGT and AI and most recently the Voice and thought - Oh, if they had just picked the right song, they would've gone farther... And now I'm finding my own sense of self-criticism telling me the same thing. I don't want to be one of those people who doesn't know what her own voice sounds like, one of those who can't choose the right piece of music to fit her voice. Why can't I Google or Bing - What is the perfect piece of music for my voice? - and actually get a straight answer? Oh yeah - that's part of the pressure of an audition. This is why everyone doesn't do something like this. This is why I've never done anything like this before.

It is at this point that I recognize my old friend, the one who has been on my journey since before high school. This friend of mine was there chiding me after every failure, has been saying, "I told you so" for a very long time. And while she's kept me from doing some very stupid things in life, this friend has also stifled my dreams.

I love Langston Hughes:
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?  Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Fear, that little friend of mine, has kept me from taking chances. Some, as I said, were for the better - that firefighter I met in college - way out of my league; the pot smoking, flower-man; and driving lessons.

But fear also caused me to sing the National Anthem so high only the dogs could hear; caused me to give up on my dream of being an American Embassador to Russia; caused me to never try out for a single play since high school.

So I guess that leads me back where I started this blog - with four songs ready to go and each equal to another and a decision to make. I love them all, for the different memories associated with each one: a song I'm proud of, a song I love to hear, a song I want, a song that makes me smile.

I suppose I could see this as an immense opportunity - that's what Teresa would tell me - that I have so many choices, none of which is better or worse than another. What a blessing to have so many choices, instead of being stuck with - well, crap - that's the only song I even sound decent singing.

So goodnight then. I'll practice a few bars, then read a little of HP7 (again) and then I'll think of my favorite movie musical - White Christmas - and I'll fall asleep counting my blessings . . . and hope that my friend, that old fear, stays away for a little while longer. 

Stay with Me

In 1988, my mother called me into her room to show me this weird musical that was playing on PBS. Quote: "I think you might like this." It was Into the Woods and I fell in love. A year or so later, I went to my music director at Villa and begged her to do it at the school. I even went so far as to call MTI in NY to find out how much the royalties were. Sister Mary Carole said no.

I followed the musical as much as an Internet-less world would allow. I bought the music book. It would not be much later that I'd had and memorized the entire CD. Then a short ten years later, obtaining the DVD.

Into the Woods was the first major musical I tackled on my own - I say, on my own, but I truly must give credit to the people who helped me through this (as I was 8 months pregnant when we opened). To my husband who built things he didn't fully understand until they were finished and on stage; to my wonderful cousin for painting gorgeous horses for me; to my wonder-make Matt and his symphony of musical mayehm; and for the brown-nosing ability of Alex who tackled every missing piece and made my musical beautiful. To the family and friends and parents who made my musical the ultimate vision of wonder that I imagined. I will be forever grateful for that one experience.

And so I find it rather fitting for my first "brave and crazy" act to be an audition with a song from Into the Woods, called Stay with Me. The song is so fitting, I just hope I can get my voice to do what I want it to do. The witch is trying to convince Rapunzel to stay with her - a mother's desperate cry not to be left alone. It's a tough emotion to show with a nervous voice.

And so I'm working with it now - sheet music (Thank you Kim Z!) that plays itself so I can practice.

I'll keep you posted on my progress, so Stay With Me!

Catharsis and Hillary Swank

This past school year has been incredibly difficult - more difficult I think than I've ever had. There were so many things that went wrong; so many conversations that hurt more than I'd admitted - even to myself; and so much utter failure, I sometimes couldn't breathe. I suppose those are the real reasons I made the changes in my life - seeking control of at least one thing I could control.

This reflection brought me some realizations about how I deal with stress and what stress really does to me. I spent a lot of time reflecting now that the school year is over and I'm no longer directing anything or anyone anymore. There is a gigantic hole, an emptiness, where that job once was. And though, the weight has been lifted from my shoulders and set upon someone elses; though it is no longer my responsiblity, my stressful nights, my mind racing through a dreamless sleep . . . I still find that I miss it terribly. More so, I miss my students in their role and I in mine. Ah well . . . we'll always have Paris, right?

This brings me to a moment of catharsis.

• Catharsis is a Greek word meaning "cleansing", "purging". It is derived from the infinitive verb of transliterated as kathairein "to purify, purge," and adjective katharos "pure or clean."

One day last week, while my darling daughter slept, I laughed and cried for two and a half straight hours. And afterwards, felt the better for it. Through all of this past year, I hadn't cried - not even once. I pushed through and kept going - the show must go on and all that jazz. But for two and a half hours, I got everything out.

Mind you, I hadn't sought catharsis. It just found me. I was just watching a movie so I could finally return it to my mother, from whom I'd borrowed it during first trimester when a student in my film class wanted to do her analysis paper on it. I suppose I had forgotten how wonderful chick flicks can be for that kind of theraputic release.

So thank you Hillary Swank and thank you P.S. I Love You - for helping me to find clarity through the emotional purge.