The Relativity of Aging

I may be getting older, but I certainly don't feel OLD.  I feel better about myself now than I ever have, I think.

I have lost a lot of weight over the last two years, I've started paying more attention to what I wear, and not feeling so constrained about what is and isn't appropriate for my "age" as I used to.  I go with what looks good.  If it looks tasteful and not tacky, it's a go.  If it's a snugger fit, or a slinkier fabric than I might have felt comfortable in before, once again, if it looks  right, I get it.

For so long, I thought I was too chunky, too busty, too old, too conservative to wear the things that deep down, I really wanted to wear.  Skinny cut jeans (with stretch, I'm no masochist, not even for the sake of looking good), low cut tops, metallic fabrics (within reason), dresses that are form-fitting, bras with less than 4 rows of hooks.  I have found that I can indeed wear these things, and they look fine.  I don't look ridiculous, and I am comfortable.

I've been playing with nail polish again, too.  Not only looks cool, but it protects my nails from all the slams and scrapes of daily life.  Makes it less likely that I'll have raggedy cuticles, too.

I am also letting all the dye grow out of my hair.  So far, it looks pretty good.  Next cut will tell more about how much gray there really is.  I have decided to just own the fact that I have gray hair, and live with it, at least for awhile.  If it looks like I think it will, it should be fine.

This shows both my style and my haircolor.

The best thing that comes with age is that sense of being comfortable, confident, even powerful in your own skin.  I know that I have more confidence in myself today than I had when I was 25.  Today, if a boss dared be so unprofessional as to raise their voice to me, they probably wouldn't like the scolding they'd get in return. (None of my supervisors are that unprofessional. I was remembering one I had in my 20s.  Would not go down that way now. )  3o years lends one wonderful perspective.

This new confidence does flee on occasion.  It is indeed difficult to overcome a lifetime of habitual slumping, hiding, and being meek.  I am trying to remember to walk tall and sit tall, and be proud.

A friend posted this on Facebook recently, and it struck me as something I've been trying to tell myself a lot lately.  I'm DONE hiding.  Time to own how good I look, and ENJOY it!

Learning to be comfortable in my own skin, to be confident, is an ongoing process.  I still have moments of abject panic, as when I have to sing something I am less than prepared to sing in public.  My brain just seems to shut off on such occasions, leaving me certain that I cannot do something that I SHOULD be able to do. Still working on the courage to do things that I might regret not doing in the future.  Chances that should be taken, words that should be spoken, poems that ought to be written.  People that should be hugged, walks that need to be taken, songs that must be sung!
I am still very much a work in progress.  I have let chances go by even just recently that I should have taken.  I have also taken some chances and been very glad I did!
Also resisting the urge to correct the grammar in that graphic I used!  Ha!  Once a teacher...

Musing On Soprano Things

I started this journey with my voice 12, almost 13 years ago.  The singer I had leaned on a lot was leaving our choir, and I felt insecure.  So, I started taking lessons from the same vocal coach that she studied with.  This set me on a journey of self discovery that has caused changes in more areas of my life than just my singing.

Friends have commented that I seem to have more confidence in myself, I am less likely to sit back and let others carry conversations.  Friends who have heard me sing are also sometimes astonished that it was ME they heard singing. 

Twelve years ago, I had a light, unsupported, unremarkable singing voice.  Nice enough, OK for choral work, nothing to write home about.  Then I started taking voice lessons with Karen Smith-Pearson.  I discovered the great literature of Grand Opera, and classics beyond church music.  I also discovered some of the great oratorios that I thought would always be beyond my skills.  I also rediscovered show tunes.

For my first recital, I sang Oh, What A Beautiful Morning from Oklahoma! .  That was very difficult for me, not technically, but as far as my confidence and my nerves were concerned.  After it was over, and I realized how well I had truly done, I was energized.  The high you get from singing well, and truly feeling it, there is NOTHING like it!  I wanted to do it again!

Over the last twelve years, I have worked very hard (with Karen's skillful help and patience) and I have seen my range  increase, my voice gain resonance, power, luster, even a little vibrato when needed.  Sounds have come out of  my mouth that I never, ever thought I could correctly produce. 
For recital, I have sung pieces from Mozart, Offenbach, Handel, and Donizetti.  I still marvel that I sang the Doll Aria from Tales of Hoffmann and didn't crash and burn. 
This last recital, it was a Holiday recital, so I sang a piece from Handel's Messiah.  "Rejoice Greatly, O Daughter Of Zion."  Karen and I had BOTH had issues with this piece, the runs were a particular challenge.  Everything came together at performance time, and it was one of those shining, rare, flying moments when you get lost in the music, and the music takes you up to the heavens.  It was truly a great feeling. 

 Since the recital, I have had another breakthrough with my vocal development.  The resonance and depth of my upper register has increased, and I have actually been able to sing a few coloratura pieces without squeaking all the high notes.  (The Minnie Mouse on helium effect.  NOT desirable.)  SO glad to finally be able to get past that pinched off place, at least most of the time.  No, now my high notes sound like real, resounding, grown up high notes.  At least more often than not.

It DOES do wonders for one's self confidence to know that one has such an instrument of power at one's disposal.  My t-shirt that says "Keep calm or I'll use my Opera Voice" is not an idle threat.  My opera voice could hurt you.  ;-)

I realize that I do not have a great voice, merely a good one, but I have so much more than I ever dreamed I'd have.  Practice isn't boring, isn't work, it's a challenge, it's fun, unlike the frustration piano practice always was for me.  Singing truly takes me to another place, another time, takes me out of myself, really gives my soul wings.

Make no mistake, singing properly IS work!  It can be damned HARD work, but it is SO rewarding! When the notes come out right, when the pinched place finally opens up, the wonders, the joys you can find in that beautiful sound make it all worthwhile.  You share that joy and beauty with others, it magnifies it, multiplies it, makes the whole universe shine.

There is still a LOT for me to learn.  I told Karen I feel like I'm still trying to learn how to walk in these high heels.  This sound isn't secure and locked down yet.  Lots more practice required to get the rough edges off, get the muscles used to putting the sound in the right place, get the breath pressure correct.

I am SO looking forward to the process; for I know the end result will be glorious.

The journey continues...

There's A Crack In Everything...

A friend posted the quote from Leonard Cohen this morning.  "Ring the bells that still will ring, forget your perfect offering.  There's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."

It is one of my very favorites.  It spoke to me especially right after our dog Bear died.  It broke my heart.  He was such a sweet boy, and had fought through so much in his 13 years on this earth, and I STILL miss him.

Today, though, it fit with my ruminations about music.
There is a true feast of music available to us today.  You can search out and find something beautiful to just about any taste.  My own musical horizons have been expanded by interactions with friends sharing their favorites online.  To think I might not have found Post Modern Jukebox, or Pink Martini; that would have been tragic!

Where the quote comes in is in my own pondering over the recital I will sing in on Sunday.  It is the holiday recital given by the voice students of Karen Smith-Pearson.  We range in age and skill level all up AND down the spectrum.  There are always mistakes.  The mistakes aren't a problem.  They are beautiful reminders that we are present in a REAL moment, hearing music made LIVE, by people who sing because they LOVE it.  When you are the one making the mistakes, though, they feel awful.  I especially feel a burden, because I SHOULD be able to give a near-perfect performance.  I've been at this a LONG time now.  As always in my life though, I just don't have the time or patience with myself to practice as much as I really NEED to.  I will practice, I run over the runs in my head, my subconscious chews on the piece constantly.  I even hear it in my DREAMS!
The piece I will do my best not to mutilate on Sunday evening is "Rejoice Greatly, O Daughter Of Zion" by Handel.  (From The Messiah).
My worries aside, the recital will be wonderful.  In this world, we tend to be far too concerned about "perfection" and not nearly concerned enough about the beauty of spontaneous humanity.  Music is an expression of the soul, it is not always going to be perfect, especially not if performed with true feeling.  Emotions are an important part of humanity, and are reflected in our music.  Voices are as individual as we are, there should be NO SUCH THING as Autotune.  It is a lie.  Live performance, out in the open, exposed, on your own with just the piano, that is a scary, scary place to be if you are not the world's most confident singer.  (And I most assuredly am NOT.)  I would wager there are some pop sensations out there today who would not do so well in that environment as even our most timid young singer.  When you sing like we do at this recital, you are putting yourself out there, warts, flat notes, forgotten lyrics and all for others to hear.  In THIS crowd of fellow students, chances are that the more experienced students who sing in the same voice part have done your piece themselves.  They know it intimately.  They will KNOW when you screw up.
Those who hide behind Autotune and studio fixes would not like this environment.  You have to be true, you have to be human, and you have to count on the charity of your fellow humans when you step up to sing at one of our recitals.

Truth is important in this life.  It isn't always pretty, sometimes it's painful, but it is the only thing that will stand in the end.  It has taken me a long time to figure this out, but I am now content to be who I am, to stand up and sing because I LOVE the music, and I want to share it.  I also learned that when you DO step out in sincerity and truth, people respond well for the most part.  They honor it, because sincerity is a beautiful thing.  Truthfulness is difficult; it leaves you vulnerable.  Learning to be vulnerable when you have spent a whole lifetime trying to protect yourself is very hard.  A long,  slow process.  This has been happening for me over the last few years.  Friends have noticed.  I am more willing to speak up, more open and present in conversation, more willing to forgive others their faults because I have learned that others will forgive me mine. I do not have to be perfect.  I just have to be myself.

There are people out there who hide their truth, and lie about themselves constantly.  How much they must be hurting to live like that.  Perhaps they have tried showing their real selves before, and have been badly hurt.  We humans are not always so kind to one another.  I know, from hiding, not really lying, just not sharing, who I am how isolating and how difficult life is under those circumstances.  You miss SO much, you miss the joy to be found in sharing with others.  It's easier to focus on others when they sense you are sincere, and they in turn are relaxed and sharing with you.

One of the things I loved most about Easy Street: The Hard Way, Ron Perlman's memoir, is that he tells it completely in his own voice, no trying to sound like someone he's not, no hiding behind a ghost writer, he puts it all out there.
 A favorite quote from his book:  "What's the point in having a hero in name only?  What good is it to admire someone and not be willing to emulate them and to try to live up to the qualities that made them inspirational to you in the first place? They stood for things that were noble, spoke about the human condition.  What good is it to complain about cowardice or the lack of backbone or resolve that you see in others if you're going to do the same things? Whenever I catch myself being hypocritical I chastise myself, have trouble sleeping at night."

This challenged me to be more true to myself, to live more fully into the faith I profess, to stop hiding and start living.  Some may say that I am just being a "fangirl", but Mr. Perlman seems more like one of my siblings to me.  I have met the man, however briefly, and I know he is the genuine article.  He puts himself out there, flaws and all, and ya know what? It makes him loveable.  He makes you feel at ease, because he isn't pretending.  He genuinely appreciates his fans.

I guess the point of all these ruminations is this:  It takes guts to really be ourselves, to step out and do the things we want to do, to stand up for what we really believe. I was timid and content to lurk in the shadows, afraid to let my flaws be seen for so many years, it has taken a lot of work to finally really join the rest of the world.
It  takes courage to stand up in front of a bunch of people and sing.  I have finally found that courage. It is also important to cherish those flubs, goofs and flaws that make a live performance REAL.  They let you know you are HERE, living this moment, this isn't a creation made by a machine.  This is REAL.  This is HUMAN.

Friends Out Of The Ether

A couple of weeks ago
, I went to a Halloween party.  It was also a "club" meeting of sorts.  I got to meet two more of my online friends in person, and reconnect with two others.  That's the five of us in that picture, with me in the middle, evidently discovering something in Easy Street (the Hard Way) that I missed the first time.
Yes, we are some of the #Perlgirls.  We are all fans of Ron Perlman, and most of us have met him.  The fact that we have other interests in common, and that we have fun whenever we get together made this a very interesting weekend.

So much of social media is dismissed as being phony or shallow.  Well, some of it may well be, but sometimes you find real and wonderful friends there.  I have.  These ladies are dear to me, we've had long online chats, and now, in person chats.  We've laughed together, and pulled each other through sad times, too.  All because we found each other due to our mutual affection for a certain craggy faced actor with a warm, loving heart.

The trip was fun, but also a bit stressful.  My husband and I had a six hour drive to Austin for the party, and I-35 is VERY much under construction in many places along the way.  I am thankful my husband is such a good sport, and such a good driver  After all, these weren't HIS friends we were going to meet. He did enjoy himself though, and both of us met some really fun and interesting people at that party.

We have decided that while we think Austin is a beautiful city, we also find it to be one of the most confusing places we've ever been.  With all the road construction going on, it is VERY easy to get lost.  (At least for us.) The sad saga of us ending up at the wrong hotel the first time, and TWO long, frustrating treks through rush hour and construction congestion is best left at that.  It was probably my fault.  I probably touched the wrong address selection on Google Maps when offered the options. Everyone we met in Austin was friendly and pleasant, and even the crowds we encountered seemed good natured and easy going.

We had a nice trip home, once we got clear of the last big construction zone.  We made our traditional stop at the Davis CTS so we could buy some more Bedree chocolate.  (Also,  that must be the nicest, cleanest, friendliest travel center on all of I-35.)  Anytime we travel that far south on I-35, the CTS is a mandatory stop! As always, the familiar sights near home are always welcome after being away.  Perhaps it is because I hadn't been back home all that long after my last trip away before going on this one.
Most remarkable thing about my trip was that I traveled to another state for a whole week earlier this month with just my small carry-on bag and my purse.  For this trip, because it involved a costume party, I had my small carryon, my makeup case, a garment bag, my laptop bag, and two shopping bags.  When I have to get all dolled up, I need LOTS of backup! (Well, I AM over 50, and spackle, I mean makeup, takes up a lot of space.) Didn't need any makeup to go do yard work at my Mom's.

I've been letting this post marinate for awhile.  I knew I wasn't quite finished, that there was more I had to process and percolate before I could finish it. 
One big result of the preparation and completion of the costume for this trip is that I have started caring about my appearance again.  I had been being lazy, and truthfully, rather depressed about my aging self until this costume caused me to work with makeup again.  I have to make the time to put it on, and I have to take better care of my skin, but those are things I used to do all the time, I just gave up awhile back. 
Since meeting these ladies, and especially since reading Ron's book Easy Street (the Hard Way) , I have been conscious of all the things I stopped doing, and examining the REAL reason I stopped.  I didn't stop using makeup because I really decided I looked better without it, I stopped because I got lazy.  I decided it didn't MATTER how I looked, I didn't matter that much, nobody looked at me.  Did not even realize I had been thinking that way until reading Easy Street made me look at how I've been dealing with life. (Or rather NOT dealing with it.)  Since I've started this process, I've been more careful about choosing the things I do or don't do.  I have to clean out more stuff around here as part of all that.  Matt and I both need to cull out the junk that is cluttering up our lives (and our house!) 

I find that caring about my appearance gives me more confidence, I feel more capable.  I know it doesn't really change anything, but the psychological boost is real.  Working out and taking care of my body has been making big changes in how I feel about myself for more than a year now.  I have managed to lose and keep off about 25 pounds.  I lost more than 30, some crept back on, and I am in the process of losing it and keeping it off.  But this is the longest I have sustained a weight loss ever. 
I am stronger, have more stamina, can sing better (when my sinuses cooperate!) and I look better than I have in a long time!  I have less energy on the days I don't exercise, and I find it harder to fall asleep on those days, for some reason.

Last week some dear friends told me they'd seen a change in me over the last few years, especially since I started doing really well with the voice lessons.  Perhaps the fact that I had found something I could stick with, something I felt real joy doing, gave me more confidence.  I don't know.  Always before in my life, there would be something I would prepare for, and try to do, and fail at.  Singing became a source of hard work that paid off.  It is spilling over into other parts of my life now.  I am taking on more challenges at work, I am writing more, too.  Also, even five years ago, I probably wouldn't have made the trip to Dallas to meet Ron, let alone this trip to Austin to meet the other girls.  There just seems to be more of a willingness to do things and try things than I've ever had before.  I had become very risk-averse, and while I still wouldn't want to make any BIG changes, I at least have the courage to take the small steps.  I was frozen before.

So, thank you to Karen Smith-Pearson, my voice coach, for helping me find out that I DO have a voice, and that it is worth hearing.  Thanks to my long suffering husband Matthew, who has put up with all my fears, trepidations, and enthusiasms for more than 30 years now.  Thanks to the rest of the #Perlgirls, especially Mary, Kelly, Jana, Fi, and Mallory for helping me break out of my shell a bit. 
Thanks to the man himself, too.  The light you shed on this world reaches farther than you think, Mr. Perlman! 

The Owl Woman

The Life Inside My Head

Admit it, when you were a kid, and maybe even now sometimes, you hear a voice over announcer narrating your life.  Probably making snide remarks about your choices, if your life is anything like mine.  You probably also had theme music that played in your head whenever you were sure you were doing the Just and Right Thing.  Also the laugh track when your best efforts resulted in the Epic Fail.  (Because, let's face it, if you're my age, all the TV shows you watched were sitcoms about families who lived in nicer houses and better neighborhoods than you did, and the kids on those shows had "epic fails" that were FUNNY , not humiliating as our own real failures were.)
You never REALLY heard the "Wha-wha-whaaaa" notes that accompanied failures on those shows, but you sure heard them inside your head.  When you tripped walking through the cafeteria and spilled your lunch all over the principal's shoes, when you were so SURE you hit the ball out of the park in softball, only to have it immediately caught by a fielder... stuff like that. 
 And really, you might as well laugh, because crying isn't really going to help.

When I was a kid, I used to imagine a soundtrack to my life.  I had all kinds of music playing all the time, and some of it was in my imagination.  My parents both liked Swing music, the Big Band Sound.  Mom also liked Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, and SOME Elvis.  She also liked some Country music.  Pop (I'm sorry, Pop, wherever you are, but it is true) liked Elevator Music.  I swear, the man was probably the one and ONLY fan of "easy listening" music.  The stuff that put the rest of us to sleep better than any drug was what he listened to if given a choice.
My oldest brother liked classic rock, "Come Go With Me" played over and over in our house, so did "Sugar Shack".  My sister liked the Beatles, my brother Walt liked Simon & Garfunkle.  My radio in my room was set to 93 KHJ, which played Top 40 hits in the early 60's when I was little and needed music to fall asleep to.  The first song I remember really liking is the Four Tops' Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch." Yep.  I liked the Motown Sound.  I also like the Mamas and the Papas and the Beatles, and Simon & Garfunkle, and my oldest brother's old 45s that he left for me to play with when he went away to college.
THEN, I took piano, and learned to love Classical music.  So, Mozart and Bach and Beethoven became part of my personal sound track.
As a teen, I became an Elton John fan.  A SERIOUS one.  I probably still know all the words to his songs that came out in the 70s.  I sold my bicycle when I was 15 in order to go to the Dodger Stadium concert.
I remember being astounded as a high school student that our songleaders were allowed to do a dance routine to Elton's The Bitch Is Back.  (Oh, yes they did! And it was very popular at pep rallies.)
93 KHJ was still my favorite radio station, and at one point, it called itself "The Official Elton John Radio Station."  I remember Machine Gun Kelly and Charlie Tuna,  it was a great time for AM radio in Los Angeles.
Of course, my senior year, Disco was popular, and I liked it for dancing, it was fun, but it was not good music to listen to.  I remember dancing with my best friend at our prom because our lame dates couldn't disco dance, and Brenda and I had taken a disco dance class for PE, so we knew the moves.  Oh, well, the other kids already knew we were weird.
Whenever I felt like I was walking through a dangerous situation (of which there were a few to be found in Compton when I was middle school aged, and in Southern California in general when I was a teen) I heard minor key classical themes playing.  The kind of things that make you uncomfortable, that you would hear in the suspense or horror movie when the hero or heroine is about to be grabbed by the forces of evil...
When I went back East to visit, I always heard "California Dreamin'" playing in my head as I wandered among cousins and other relatives who lived in fairly small towns in obscure states I wasn't sure I wanted to be in at the time. 


There was also a voice-over narrator, and a laugh track.  There was a lot of stuff I did that got laughed at, at least in the privacy of my own brain.  Usually, I was lucky, and nobody else saw the stupid silly things I did.  I played alone a lot as a kid.

My announcer always sounded like  Gary Owens, and said things like "And now Katie is back outside with nothing much to do once again."  When I fell down (which I did a lot, having long skinny feet and no coordination), I would hear Gary Owens saying "and she's down again, let's see, yes, she's getting back up, oh!  Look at that, two skinned knees!  She keeps the world record for most scabs on knee caps  for another two weeks at least!" (There was usually laughter and applause tracks running in the background after these observations in my head.  Who was your announcer voice?  Was it serious?  Snide?  Did you hear laughs or did the sorrowful violins play for you in the privacy of your own imagination?)
I also used to hear Arte Johnson doing the "German Spy" character from Laugh In.  Usually when I was trying to make conversation with someone new, and I'd make some random observation. (I excel at non sequiturs.  My husband seems to know how I got where I end up, but nobody else has ever been able to.  One of the reasons I married him.  I don't have to explain everything.) Anyway, I'd say something, and the dreadful, awkward silence would continue, and I'd hear the Arte Johnson voice saying "Very interesting.  But pointless."

These days, I hear my own voice narrating my life.  Sometimes when I am out walking, and a good song comes on my mp3 player, and I'm feeling really good about myself, and I'm just truckin' it down that sidewalk like I'm still young and hot and all that, and I'll hear my own voice in my head saying, "Yep, there I go again.  I think I'm still hot, and I look like somebody's grandma who's going to be late for her lunch date."
Some days, I look in the mirror before I leave for work and I hear myself saying "It's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's LIBRARY LADY!!"  Oh yeah.  Sensible shoes, not quite stylish clothes, sensible haircut, and Coke-bottle-bottom glasses.  Hot stuff. That's me.
Then there are the times when the voices and the sound track just shut up, because I KNOW I have the spotlight, and in a good way.  When I get up to sing at a recital, I walk up there with confidence, because I take great pains to make sure my voice and the piece I am singing are ready, and that I look GOOD.  My singing voice is not the best in the world. not by a long shot, but it's pretty damned good.  I work hard on the pieces I sing, and I think it shows when I perform.  The feeling I get when I am singing is just incredible, the sharing of that wonder, that transport, the beauty of the music, it's incredible.   Besides, my fan club  is usually there. Both of them.  The Kelleys, who are members of our Friends of the Library group come to ALL my recitals.  They are my fans.  They always tell me how well I do, and how much they enjoy the music.  It's good to have fans.  I always do my best, because hey, I can't let them down.  The voice in my head would never let me live THAT down.

So, remember, the next time you're running out the door, and everything that could possibly happen to slow you down and make you late is happening, listen to the voice over announcer, who is probably saying something like, "Let's see, she's put the coffee cup down on top of the car, will she remember to pick it up before she drives away..."