Alaskan Cock

I have to take the first half of my Written Comprehensive Examinations in Music History this morning. A professor from the Music History department at KU sent me 6 essay questions before he left work yesterday, in an email, and I am going to eat some breakfast, take my shower, probably meditate a little bit to quiet my nerves and pick 3 of the six questions and write and hour on each. This is decidedly the more difficult portion of the test in some ways as it highlights very easily the extent to which one may not know the actual history behind things and their correlations. The second part of the test, the part I will be taking on Friday, is more about memory and regurgitation—also unnerving but in a different way. At any rate, if I pass and have my '"Writtens" behind me, it will take an amazing amount of pressure off of me as I continue onto the next step. Funny, some of the things that I have to do nearer the end are actually less stressful. In fact, the supposed shining moment of the whole process, my lecture recital, is the least stressful as it showcases what I can do better than memorizing a bunch of facts and dates: sing.

My choir director last night said something very peculiar. I have been receiving a lot of compliments on how funny my little role that I play in this new musical is. The role is type casting gone mad. I play a very queeny make-up artist who runs around continuously trying to fix the hair of a television star. I guess I should take a picture of my outfit. The Woman of the Year, the musical, is set in the 80s and I am wearing hot pink and leather pants, a studded fanny pack, with a large can of hairspray hanging off its belt. It is an annoying part to play, in my opinion, but I, of course, cannot let the audience know that and try the best I can. I guess it's funny. So, in the worst kind of unintentional, backhanded compliment to date, my choir director and I are leaving the theatre at the same time, and I say, "With the look of things, I will be better known in this theater for having played a gay make-up artist than having sung the Russian Singer in Anatevka." "Yes", he says, "that's because you do this way better."

Huh? What an ass. He was always the one who was so impressed at the way I sing that part (see "operatic porno" from a previous post.) Plus, I have gotten a lot of serious comments on the Russian Singer. I get compliments on this bit part, too, mind you, but it is not to be taken seriously. Geez. This is so typical of working in a theatre, though. If you continue to do something well, people lose perspective and long for a new kind of flavor to the same old meal, even if they have been eating Coq au Vin and a baked Alaska the whole time. (I guess if I were a meal, I would be more like fried chicken. A good fried chicken, mind you, but fried chicken nonetheless.) That is why people flock automatically to anyone new in the theatre. There is an automatic fickleness about the artistic character that is very emphasized in a situation like a German theatre. But, I have talked about that in the past.

And the East shall Rice again.

Here is a letter that I wrote to Condoleeza today:

Dr. Rice,

I am an American citizen living in Germany. I just wanted to write a quick note congratulating you on your new progress towards the peace in the Middle East, and, specifically, towards a possible peace between the Israelis and Palestinians. Getting the Arab Nations to agree to recognize Israel if Israel gives up occupied lands and agrees for Palestinian repatriation is a wonderful and inspirational first step to what could be a lasting peace process. I congratulate you and urge you on in your efforts! You have already proven your political savvy many times in the past several years; perhaps it is now time for you to show your real colors as a negotiator. We are behind you and cheering you on!

Insert name here
Pforzheim, Germany

PS I hope that, in spite of how terribly difficult your job must be, I hope that you would consider working for the next administration (Republican or Democrat.)

Laugh it up, fuzzball.

I really needed this laugh.

Germanus Interruptus

I wish I could accurately describe what it is like to have a language slowly take over your brain. No, it doesn't hurt; this is an entry appropriate for children and super-Christians. It's not as though the other languages that I have learned, including English, are somehow being slowly wiped out by this phenomenon. Instead, some words and phrases, ways of expressing myself come to the forefront of my brain with a little more ease than one would normally think. It is slowly becoming impossible to do my beloved crosswords. Well the clue of "misfortune" would obviously have to be "Unglück", right? But, to my knowledge, this crossword was not written in Denglish—I mean what kind of extremely small percentile of the population would that be, anyway?

Famed tidbits

It I snowing again! Oh, the gods must be crazy.

Things are really weird over here right now. I continue to have my allergy attack à la unknown cause. The cold weather wiped out the allergens, so there really is no reason for them to be there. I think it might be the bedroom. Chris and I will have to give it a good scrubbing this weekend. Some-in' ain't right, y'all. It's all topsy-turvy right now.

So, I was just about shitting my pants yesterday morning when I got up to find that a nice chunk of gunk had decided to live around my larynx. I figured it would dissipate throughout the day, leaving me free to sing my role in Anatevka in peace. It did go slowly away, but left me with a nice cough—the kiss of death for a singer. I really was not sure whether I would be able to sing my role. Of course, there is a lot of extra pressure put on someone when something like this happens, because no one else can sing my part. They would either have to hire someone from somewhere else in the country and they would come here and sing it, or someone from the house would have to quickly learn the part and try it (an extreme inconvenience for them.) So, there is always pressure not to cancel, and most of the time, one needn't, really. Much of what we have as singers when there is a slight tickle in the throat is angst created by ourselves.

And I had just that yesterday. With so much mucous in the passageways, it makes singing quite the little adventure, you know. I really thought I was going to crap in my pants from fear yesterday. I had to spend a lot of time warming up and trying to make sure that there was no more stuff sitting on my chords. Unfortunately, though, I m not able to go straight from the practice room to my ariette, I have to do a lot of on-stage sitting before it comes up. And, well, as the story goes, my chords got slimy again in the interim.

I stood up to sing. My first note is a high-G held out until the cows come home. I took in a breath and started my phonation. Nothing but static. Kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk for almost a full second, and then the G sounded in its glory. In that one moment, as air flew through my chords, the mucous on top of them flew off, creating an amazing dissonance. Fortunately, the men's chorus sings at the same time, making this static imperceptible to the crowd.

What is really cool, though, is that the aria went well and that, immediately before I started, I remembered something that Allan had said to me before…that, eventually, my connection with God will be so strong, that I will no longer find it important if the audience actually likes what I do or not, that singing will be an expression of my very soul and that, once it's out there, I will not mind how it is received. Very cool idea. I had a little bit of that before I started. It was very, very re-assuring. Of course, when one is in such a tight spot, it makes believing all the more possible. But, now I have a frame of reference that I can continue to use and remember for the future.

And, although the audience's opinion means little in the end, I will have to say that I am pretty sure that I will miss the audience's daily applause as I venture out to begin my solo career. I am sure I will here it again, but, being in the theatre on a daily basis, hearing that applause, I think I have underestimated its power. Ironic considering what I just said.

Funny side notes: when I went to the conductor and asked that I not hold the fist note as long as I normally do because I was not sure about my own health, he said "Ok, I'll listen closely and not hold it out too long. But, that note that you sing there is like musical porno." I thought that was so funny. Finally, I am hot enough and well-endowed enough to be a porn star, albeit a metaphorical one. What a compliment, even if it was an extremely weird thing to say. And, one of the guys that comes as guest to do musicals here was very emphatic about how well I did, his having heard me for the first time yesterday. That was nice to hear. It is a conundrum, isn't it, not caring what the audience thinks, but obviously lapping it up when they say something good?

Naughty blogger

I just realized that there were a couple of posts that didn't get published. They are there now, but you'll have to look bacck to find them.

Turk-slime-e'stan

I am looking outside at the veritable blizzard that has happened upon my little town. How funny. The papers said that this winter was the warmest since 1880, and that, because it has been so unseasonably mild, the amount of allergens in the air are much, much more than normal. I can attest to that; I am on about 5 different drugs, trying to thin the mucous out and to not let any lodged gunk me really sick. This happens to be, oh my great luck, a weak of about 5 Anatevkas in which I sing a little aria full of full-blown, honking high notes. I just hope that the mucous ball now surrounding my larynx dissipates and I can mumble a few words before this morning's rehearsal. If that happens, then I know all will be well.

The word for mucous in German is schleim (pronounced shlime.) I always thought that was kind of strangely funny.


Chris' boss that got him this great job that he has is moving on in the Fall. Jörn also happens to be Chris' best friend, which makes it, I can imagine, really nice to work together. They do really love to collaborate on projects. Jörn doesn't know whether he is going to go to Istanbul to take over the management of the decoration department of a large, flagship store like the one he heads up now in Stuttgart, or if he will go to the opera house in Zürich to become a costume designer there. Hey, both jobs sound great to me.

Yesterday, though, Jörn, as an aside, admittedly, but, nonetheless worth note, asked Chris if he would like to join him in Istanbul if he were to go there. Chris, of course, is excited about such a thing as that, which I can understand. Of course, there is nothing in Istanbul for me, and as a young Heldentenor, specializing in Wagner, to leave das Vaterland would be akin to some kind of mild career suicide, I would think. Istanbul could just as easily be Timbuktu if one were to compare their relevance in the operatic world. So, needless to say, I would stay here if he were to go.

I want Chris to progress as an artist, and if that means going to Istanbul for a while, I am all for it. Our relationship will survive; this I know. If he decides to go, I am sure we can find a way to make it happen. It just seems so random as far as opportunities go. Istanbul is supposed to be great, but, you know, that's pretty close to where all the terrorists live.

No change is good change unless you really need some...or something

Yes, yes I am alive. Geez. I had no idea that you all missed me so much.

What to say…what to say.

First of all, I was just reading an article about the confession of Khalid Sheik Mohammed at Guantanemo. (He confessed to being themastermind behind 9/11.) They mentioned in the article that he spoke mostly in Arabic with some broken English. "Broken English" is a funny idiom, don't you think? I mean, if someone told me that I speak a "kaputes Deutsch", I am relatively certain that I would be heart-broken.

So, what has been going on? Well, not much really, I have to admit. I don't have a lot of news to report.

On February 28th, I woke myself up from a terrible fear within me. My mind had been, through the night, calculating what must happen if I were to finish all of my requirements before going back to Kansas in May and complete my doctorate. It sort of felt like that moment from the Fifth Element where the President after being counseled by Priest Cornelius says "General, I have a doubt." The General responds simply "I don't, sir." And fires on the large, evil entity, making it larger and eviler indeed.

"I have a doubt." I said to myself. So, I fretted the whole day about it, as I tried to detangle the giant web of complicated timing that is my doctorate, my auditions, and my job. Eventually, I understood the implications of having May as an end date for my trip to America to complete everything….that I would have to make the choice between devoting all of my time and energy to my doctorate and that alone, or would have to change the date to something later if I plan on doing any auditions or even preparing for them.

So, I called my advisor and he whole-heartedly agreed that I should spread it out over more time. I will be completely free to devote my time to such things in the middle of July. I probably will not be gainfully employed in the Fall, or, if I am, it will certainly not be until October. So, I am toying with the idea of when exactly to go back. I think September might be the best bet. September travel is about half the price of a trip in August, and it is cooler. The kids will be in session there in Lawrence, and all of the people on my committee will certainly be there. September might be the best bet…

Monica was right.

Tempus fugit, infinitum

Yes, I am here. Somewhat, anyway…

I have awoken each morning too early because of the panic of what is to happen with my doctorate. I just had the most terrible day yesterday, riddled with thousands of thoughts. I spent the day picking away them in order to eventually see the choices that I have to make. You know, I have this idea about choice, one which is reinforced when I see some horrible sob story about some old man who has been incarcerated since he was a young one because of his outlandishly stupid, and repeated bad choices in life. I always think of what there is to be learned from such things. What I take to heart from such examples is that choices must be considered and then acted upon, but there are, definitely, good and bad choices in life.

After spending the entire day yesterday mulling about the facts surrounding my immediate future, one choice because obvious in the forefront of my mind: that I must, because of shear timing, choose between auditioning as a Heldentenor and finishing my doctorate by May.

When I am completely honest with myself, I have to admit that, yes, I do want to be a university professor, but that this moment is not now. I have put such a priority on finishing my doctorate immediately so that I can have a chance to find a job before September. But, getting a job just after I finish in May seems unlikely. And, if truth be told, the idea of moving from my life here in Germany back to some small university town in Mississippi seems dismal at best.

In addition, after having talked with a couple of Americans who have been teaching at universities here for a while, I have been told that 34 years of age is an age that almost no university will even consider for a professorship (it is too young.) So, in other words, I am putting all of this insane pressure on myself to get a whole bunch of things done in a very short amount of time, even when I will be, starting in the beginning of July almost free of any attachments to time constraints whatsoever…i.e., I will be free to finish as I should and not try to cram everything into my already full brain.

I am not sure exactly what I will do. There is no doubt that my original goal of being finished with my doctorate in 2007 still stands. But, why does it have to all be while I m working and auditioning at the same time?