10 posts tagged “divas”

This week I opened the store for 5 days straight.  The customers were cranky, the tasks to be done too many for the short staffing and monotonous to boot.  Yet I'd periodically find myself scanning out product/dealing with an idjit customer/listening to the latest in moronic store policy with a goofy grin on my face.  Why?

In no order whatsoever:

-I'm going to a "real" university in the fall.  Yes, me.  Yes, me, UbiCaritas.  Registered for classes and everything, I am.  Yeah.

-Oooooh, but my paycheck was nice this week.  It will be nice next week, too.  The credit card balance is sliding lower and lower...

-A dear friend is expecting her first kid on August 4th.  Me, I'm kinda hoping he shows up two days later, the 6th being this diva's birthday and all.  I'm going to be Auntie UbiCaritas...and let me tell you that that makes me grin obnoxiously!  Must find a name for the kid for the blog.  Hmm.

-Voice workshops with voice lessons two days in a row and masterclasses and what-have-you.  What's not to like?

I've tried to write this post at least five times, and it never comes out properly. 

At the end of this past spring semester, I finished my fourth semester at the community college where I've been studying.  I've been incredibly blessed to have had the teachers I've had: how many college voice instructors wouldn't even crack a smile when a person walked into her office and said, "I'm a nursing major, but I've decided to change to voice, and how do I do that?"  And my theory teachers have been naught but fantastic.  There have been others, too: the choir director who taught me how to be a section leader, the accompanists who've stretched me as a musician...the list goes on and on.

Howesomever, this college, being, as it is, a community college, does not offer a bachelor's degree.  I've finished over half the hours I'll need for that degree, but there isn't anything else for me to take at this level.

In March, I auditioned for the music program at a university in Fort Worth.  There is a voice teacher there under whom I'd like to study: I sang for her in a master class once and very much liked her insights and style. 

I walked into a hall with stunning acoustics and sang my head off.  I talked to instructors, and left.  Couldn't decide how well I'd done.  The accompanist said I had done well.  My heart said I'd done well.  My head said that it stank.  ("Stank," of course, being a technical musical term.)

A few weeks later, I heard that I'd gotten in.  All I needed to do was find a way to pay for it.  Did I mention that this college is private and that they charge nearly 18 grand a year?

I spent the next month getting together paperwork to get my financial aid status considered separately from that of my parents.  That was an enlightening but extremely stressful process.  All sorts of tap-dancing skeletons got hauled out of closets.  I won't go into details here.  However, if anyone reading this would like some pointers on getting independent student status when he or she is under 23 years of age, PM me and I'll be happy to share what I've learned.

A few weeks ago, I finally heard back from Texas Wesleyan (the school to which I applied).  The financial aid folks had approved my request...and I'll be heading for Wesleyan in the fall.  Orientation was last Saturday, and I'm meeting with the head of the music department next week to get a class schedule set up.  Come September, I, UbiCaritas, will be a college junior.  I am still having a hard time believing this.  Throughout the audition/financial aid process I kept expecting someone to call and say, "Oh, sorry, we didn't mean you, wrong person."  I think a part of me still expects that call.  It's a much smaller part than it used to be, though.

Now if you'll pardon me, I'm off for a celebratory lunch and bookstore run with my adopted family.  ("Adopted family" is the best description I've come up with for people who aren't officially family but who treat me like a daughter.  They're in town, and it's so nice to see them!)

Facts:

1) There are divas who always appear put together.  These divas never have so much as a hair out of place, always have the perfect mani/pedi going, and, to the root of the issue, their nylons would never so much as dream of creating ladders or runs.

2) I am not such a diva.

3) However, either a) a bottle of clear nail polish or b) a glue stick should be in one's handbag at all times, because

4) application of such a product to the ends of the run/ladder will prevent it from going any farther, which is a good thing because

5) if you don't have that nail polish or glue stick, you won't notice that run until just before you walk onstage, rendering it virtually the only thing you can think about.  Because, of course, there are DOZENS of people photographing your LEGS for the express purpose of catching such a wardrobe malfunction, right? :P  You KNOW that no matter what happens, fifty years from now someone will pull out a folder of pictures and say, "And that's UbiCaritas with a run in her nylons."

 

Dear Unknown Diva,

 

I don't know why or how I ended up with your music.  Did you once teach singing?  Did you sing or live hear in cowtown?  What made you give up your music?  Why, instead of gifting it or selling it to a fellow diva, did you donate it to the library book sale?

(The only reasons I've come up with are exceptionally morbid ones.)

Why didn't you write your name in your music?  Why?

Whatever the reason, though, thank you.

Thanks to your generosity, I walked away from today's book sale with seven song books for "soprano" or "medium high" voice.  These are good songbooks, too, and all ones that I'll use often.  Oh yes, they're a bit battered, and one is rather elderly.  I don't care.  I love used music; it has history--even if that history is unknown to me.

If I were to buy these songbooks new and with the accompaniment CDs you so kindly left in them, I'd pay a hundred bucks or a touch over.  I spent three dollars and fifty cents.

So, whoever you are, thank you, thank you, thank you, and may peace be with you!

 

the UbiCaritas Diva

One of the (many) fanastic people I've met in the last year is the carapiccoladiva.  She has inspired me repeatedly with her music and her willingness to go the extra mile (or several thousand) in order to pursue her dream.  (Good heavens, that sounds like a college recommendation letter.)

Now she's living in Vienna (the center of opera) and barista-ing and opera-ing.  How cool is that?

She's had something so incredibly cool and wonderful and affirming happen to her, and y'all need to go over and read about it.  That's the sort of thing that happens in this world I've entered.  Just reading that post, I feel more at peace and joyful and hopeful.

So go read it!

I've been meaning to blog about this phenomenom for some time.

Would you believe that in the year or so that I've worked at The Bookstore, I have yet to have one difficult day on which I've gone to work and a diva or friend has not shown up and given me a hug--despite the fact that they could have had no prior knowledge that I was having such a day or just plain needed a hug?  Indeed, a particular little diva from overseas even manages to time her letters perfectly!  On Black Friday (or Saturday--can't remember which I worked--it was all a blur) at least two stopped by!

A well-timed diva stopped by The Bookstore two days ago, and I decided that this was no longer so much a phenomenom as it was a regular occurence!

Diva love back at you all.

 

Today=Monday.  Mondays are usually good days to begin with, despite their 9 AM piano class (I love the sound of a well-played piano, but that isn't what one hears if I sit at a keyboard, and 9 AM ISN'T MORNING YET, why does no one understand this?  But I digress).  There is a voice lesson in the afternoon, and a vocal repertoire class that evening.  Plus, lots of unstructured free time through the day, as I never work on Mondays.  Much of this free time is spent in homework etc, but I occasionally fit a nap into the early afternoon.  Naps are lovely things.

Today we had a guest master class in vocal rep, which is precisely what it sounds like.  A guest "lecturer" comes in and works with a few students while the rest of us watch and learn.  New perspectives, different approaches, all that good shtuff.  With me so far?  Excellent.

This was the first time that I sang for a guest lecturer.  I expected to be terrified, or at least nervous and unable to take a deep breath.  The latter frequently happens when I get onstage, even with people with whom I am very comfortable.

I wasn't nervous.  Just...not at all.  I felt fine.  I felt at home on the stage.  I didn't feel at all self-conscious, yet I wasn't just "zoned out," which I will do to avoid stressful situations.  I was there, I was comfortable, I didn't think once about how I looked.  I just became an anxious and upset servant girl, and sang about how dreadful it was that I had lost a pin, Heaven help me!

I enjoyed every second, and genuinely LOVED being onstage and making people laugh.  It was awesome, in the original sense of the word.  I'm just in awe.

Miracles abound, and are beautiful.

It truly was.

Of course, first we had a tech rehearsal.  Or two.  Then came time for putting the set together:

 

 

 

do. not. look. down.

 

i'm glad you found a way to hoist the star drop up to the ceiling, but i'm getting out of here before another chunk of plaster comes flying at me, 'k?

 

and magic is worked!  (ignore the floor.  don't even ask.  suffice to say that it was "fixed" by the night of the performance)

 

rehearsals et all were punctuated by la maestra diva's birthday celebration...

 

not one of my more stellar culinary efforts.

 

 

yes, she blew all of them out.  so there!

 

and then, of course, there was the dress rehearsal:

 

 

they OWN tiny, blonde and cute

 

 

when in doubt, use eyeliner.  trust me.

 

 

"err...don't you think that's a little light?"  "if we blend really well at the jawline...?"  "nah"

 

 

divas of the makeup table

 

 

it is COLD back here...oh, crap, she has a camera!  smile!

 

 

i was SO blessed to work with these ladies on this musical; i've learned so much! 

 

two nights later, we were supposed to put on the show.  then this happened:

 

 

 

i love snow, but WHY TODAY?

 

this did not dampen our spirits.  on monday, we did our show.  and it rocked.  and they had to bring chairs into the aisles 'cause the house was PACKED.  hah.

sure, we can do a musical tonight and an ear training midterm tomorrow morning.  right?  errr...right.  yeah.

 

oooh, look what someone sent me!

 

and look what else i got!

 

 

did i mention i love roses?

 

 

themaureencorps and shewhomustbeobeyed came!  yay!

 

 

when you're driving through the moonlight on the highway, look out for chicks with curling irons!

 

we ARE diva

 

 

i am not even gonna TRY to caption this.  yes, that is a cello case in the chorus line.

It was a grand night for singing.  In fact, it was glorious.  Exhausting, admittedly, but worth every second.  Thank you, divas and divos! 

love from

 

ubicaritas.

today we had a dress rehearsal for Thursday's production of A Grand Night for Singing.

much makeup was applied, many voices were warmed, much laughter was shared.

this was an invitational dress rehearsal; basically, it was a performance without much announcement thereof.

a dear, sweet friend sent flowers to me backstage.  talk about making my night!  did i mention that I love roses? 

we laughed some more.

we took the stage, and sang our hearts out.

we sang our hearts out again.

at some point this evening post-rehearsal it came to me that i was actually doing this.

me.

ubicaritas.

yes, me.

i had actually spent the last few days getting the set ready, rehearsingrehearsingrehearsing, and doing various stage activities.

i've been existing mostly on caffeine (whoever created the hazelnut-mocha-extra-shot deserves a Nobel), and regular meals are so three-weeks-ago.

so, there i was, pinning this girl's hair into a half-up.  i had on more makeup than i'd ever worn in my life, i was wearing a turquoisey satin gown, my hair was pinned up into an updo.  i was surrounded by many, MANY women, and this is not a huge room.

all i can think about was how happy i was and am.  for the first time in my life, i'm not looking in.  i am surrounded by wonderful, wonderful, wonderful people.  i am doing what i genuinely love and want to do forever.  i can laugh with those around me.  i can talk and joke and laugh and feel free and accepted and loved.  i can start to be me.  the shell is cracking.

when i went back north for a few days last january, i ran into several high-school classmates.  not one of them recognized me.  last week, i saw a guy i went to school with (not the school i now attend).  he recognized me after we talked for a minute or so, but kept saying "you look...different.  really different."  both of those, i think, are good things. 

the high school classmates?  they always saw a desperately unhappy and bored girl with braces, glasses, and atrocious skin who couldn't talk.  literally, couldn't talk.  i was too afraid.

the former college acquiantance?  he had seen someone who had no idea what she wanted in life except more than she had--someone who had no idea how to dress and who was so tired and unhappy she looked twice her age, to the point where she was frequently assumed to be the mother of one of her classmates.

and then i think about where i am now.  am i perfectly happy with the way i look?  nope.  but i am happier. i don't cringe when i look in the mirror, or walk past it with my eyes closed and my face turned away.  i am...happy.  and joyous.  and my heart is truly full.  and that's what matters.

and i can't even begin to explain this feeling adequately or eloquently.  just know that i am sitting here with a very full heart, and am at peace.

and now to bed, lest this joy and serenity be marred by yet another sleepless night :P

this is a bit more soul-searching than i usually do; i may end up setting it as a 'friends only' post.  for now, i'll leave it as is.

 

 

Just had to post about the incredible party I went to last Friday.  La Maestra hosted a mob of divas, divos, music afficionados and various other fun people at a caroling party.  There were, as the title states, many carols, much food, dozens of divas, and the gabbing had to be heard to be believed.  In short, an excellent time was had by all--in this diva's case, 'til a bit past three in the morning.  What can I say?  Post-cleanup (a side note: only this bunch could still look extremely diva-istic while up to their elbows in soapsuds, dishcloths and plasticware), which involved yoga posing, wine and hugs, we were sufficiently peckish to haul out some excellent cheese and proceeded to munch and talk for another couple of hours.  Then the trip home (amazing how much faster one can go on certain roads when there is NO TRAFFIC), a quick call-in to Diva Central ("yes, I'm alive and home, goodnight"), and the collapse into bed, from which I did not emerge until noon.

I feel so very blessed, and so very loved, and so very full of love for these wonderful people around me.  I've never been this happy.  I am surrounded by wonderful people who I care about and who care about me, and we all love great music and help to make it-and what more could one want?

signed,

the deliriously happy diva, who now must run to work to become, in the recent words of the head cashier who knew NOTHING of how the word diva is used at my school, the "cashwrap diva"