happy? valentine's day...

I don't think I can do it. I love to sing. It is my favorite thing in the world. So why do I always feel like it is being taken away from me? I got a part that requires absolutely minimal singing. I can't achieve that stylized mature sound that classical training requires. I don't understand why I must continuously have "potential" and then never actually achieve anything. At the end of my senior year in high school my choir teacher called me a "diamond in the rough". And although I love the idea of being compared to someone like Aladdin, I can't help but wonder when will I just be the "diamond"? I work very hard so it can't be my lack of effort. I am constantly pushing forward but then someone has to say one tiny remark about how I am trying to make my aria sound like a pop song and I crumble. This is so stupid. And later tonight, I am required to play a comic relief character without relying on the fact that at least people can say I sang well if my acting sucks. I am scared for my life. And the sad thing is today is Valentine's Day and I have no one to share my fears with (friend or otherwise). People never understand. I guess I don't even understand...

At least I get to play with fake gun, right? :\

              Ohh Blog, I really wish I could tell you nothing has happened this past few weeks. I wish I could stick to my original plan and tell you about my vacation adventures. Alas, I've single handedly ruined all peace and stability I brought back from break. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?
              This semester I was determined to take voice lessons that mainly consist of classical training. I thought it'd be enough. I thought I would not want to do another show, that my musical theater days were at a standstill. And then auditions for Cabaret Troupe's show came around. This time it was for Stephen Sondheim's Assassins. I had never heard of the show but I can tell you this. Sondheim is a bastard. Don't get me wrong, he is talented. But nevertheless he loves to make his performers slave over his detailed and un-melodic tunes. I had no intention of auditioning but at the same time voice lessons had been less the satisfying. I agree that classical training is important but I abhor that style. All the female mezzos and sopranos sound the same with their rich heavy tones. I just can't stand it.
               The idea that I could audition for a musical theater show was just pounding in my head. My indecisive nature began to take hold and I was driving people crazy. One minute I'd say I was going to audition, the next I began crying hysterically because I didn't know if I should audition (talk about hormones...). Finally that night I chose a song and auditioned.
                At this point I found out the show is about various American assassins attempting to kill their respective president. The basic assassins are in it, John Wilkes Booth, Lee Harvey Oswald, etc. And there are only two female singing roles, Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme and Sara Moore. Squeaky is a serious hippie and lover/slave of murderer Charles Manson, but sings a great if not slightly creepy love song called "Unworthy of your Love" (I urge you to look it up, it's a very pretty song). Sara is a house mom who is slightly erratic and insane who doesn't sing too much in the show. Both plan to assassin President Gerald Ford and the comic relief.
                I knew I fit Squeaky better so I aimed to sound beautiful and confident. My first audition was stellar. It was the most fun I've had singing solo in a while. I felt like my sound was consuming the air. Then I got a callback. Mind you, there are only two female parts in the show so I was very nervous. They had me sing the Squeaky's love ballad which went well. Then, the acting part came.
I don't think I've shaken that much in my entire life. I kept rereading the scene. They wanted me to read for Squeaky, no surprise there. After ten minutes of waiting, I felt comfortable enough. As I finished my scene thinking I did decently, they drop a bombshell. "Oh Madison, we also want you to read for Sara Moore after these two go." I had literally two minutes to look the dialogue over. I knew this was not good. I didn't want to play Moore, I wanted to play Squeaky. I quickly did the dialogue but knew it was significantly worse than the first one. After that they let me go. I waited till 1 in the morning to receive the cast list. The result?
                   So, I am playing Sarah Moore even though I am a better singer than actress and clearly could not act the part. Does the universe enjoy playing cruel tricks on me? I am crawling with anxiety. I can't act a part like this! I don't know the first thing about being comic relief. It is a great part but not for me!
I guess this whole dilemma is proof that you can never predict who you'll be casted as. It is always a surprise. For the first time in my life I have not been type-casted as the sweet, docile, lighter girl and I don't like it. Does that mean I won't do it? No, I'll try and grow as an actress but I am not happy about it. I sound like a brat, don't I? All I know is I don't want to make a fool of myself.

For those of you interested in what will be my poor attempt at playing an insane assassin, the performance is at the Saratoga Music Hall on April 8, 9, and 10.

i'm back.

             I hope everyone had a fabulous holiday and happy happy new year (that's probably the first time someone's  wished you a doubly happy new year, isn't it?). For my part, I can say that the long vacation I went on had a mixture of pleasant and terrible moments. I guess you could say it was a vacation of firsts filled with great and depressing experiences. I only am telling you this because it did not get off to a great start.
             On December 23rd, the day my family left for Florida, the greatest man I ever knew, my great grandfather, died. He had become ill that week. We were going to visit him. We had planned this visit for a while. And of course, I found out he passed away that morning when my aunt posted an RIP message on facebook. He was 93, and lived a long fulfilling life. He was the most gentle, sweetest, caring man I have ever known. Even in his later years, he was mentally and physically together. For goodness sakes, he was not only in a bowling league until he was 91, but considered one of the more valuable players!
              The last time I saw him was at my high school graduation party. I am so fortunate that I knew him for 18 long years. Not many people can say they knew a great grandparent throughout their childhood, let alone all of their grandparents. Understanding I was allowed a glimpse into my family's history through this amazing man provides some comfort but I still miss him. My great grandpa gave me hope that somewhere in this densely populated world there are genuine human beings who value the beauty of all existence. I hope that is a message I will be able to carry through into my adult life. He always wanted us to have fun and not take life so seriously pouring an unbounded humor into his conversations. I've lost other great grandparents before and while their deaths deeply saddened me, I've never felt such pain over death before. Not only will I imitate my great grandfather's demeanor but the fragile emotions I feel over his death will guide me through my future performing endeavors. Now, I understand the raw pain that swims inside the body when a loved one is lost. R.I.P. Great Grandpa, I love and miss you.
                I am shaking writing this and I can feel my eyes begin to water. I think I will resume the other tales of my trip for my next entry, and trust me there is plenty to tell. Don't worry, while the vacation began to a less than great start (actually less than fine start) it had some awesome moments, including visiting the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando, Gambling in the Bahamas, pretending I was 21, and convincing my younger cousins that I am not pregnant. Sorry if this entry was depressing and dark, didn't intend it to be but that's the way the universe works.

Oy veyyyy.

         I should have told you guys. Or at least explained. Zombie Prom is over. It has been for a long time now. I didn't really feel anything after the show. I mean yes I was sad to leave my character and what not. But I still had a choir performance left so I wasn't thinking about the lack of performance. But now that is over and boy, do I have a story for you.
          In my whole entire music life I have never been told to be quieter. In fact, my teachers always wanted me to go further, louder, become slightly reckless with my singing (not damage my throat but sing carefree). So when I went to the music hall before the concert on Saturday night being too loud was the furthest thought from my mind. Actually, being the lazy slob I am, I decided I would lip sync through the concert as the choir is big and loud. Why should my voice be heard? Plus, not to be snobby but it is a community choir not Chamber Singers, the audition group from my high school. I mean in high school my choir director was kind of known for being harsh but effective (think a tiny bi-polar Napoleon that runs his choir regime like Nazi Germany, without the race stuff of course).  I knew my lip syncing was not really going to happen, I felt too guilty. I was trained to be anything but a lip syncing bimbo in a choir. I knew I had to sing.
          Warm ups began. Now determined to sing I proceeded to execute them perfectly. I guess I didn't realize how loud I actually am or maybe how confident I have been lately. Well, this woman and another female  student in front of me were looking at each other as if they were 13-year-old brats giggling over the biggest secret in the world. Ignoring them I continued to focus on my voice, and my warmup. After a few more glances between the two, the student turned around tugged my arm (and it hurt!) and said very slowly so any 3 year old could understand, "You're sticking out, you need to blend." My whole body stopped. I didn't know how I was still breathing. I just...everything was on pause. Finally she turned once more and gave me a thumbs mouthing "Better". But, I wasn't even singing! And it was just warm-ups! I wasn't sticking out ever when we sang the piece! I was always told to sing warm-ups with more intensity! I just...this was such a fail.
            I know I am not a bad singer, I know it. But I think I've realized I'm not meant to sing in a choir anymore. I must've outgrown it at some point. I think from now on I will just stick to solo singing. Choirs aren't fun for me anymore. I just need to sing by myself, for myself, for a while.

Ohhh just shut up.

            NO. No no no no! This can not be happening. Let me tell you, I have very little at this school so far. And while I am lucky to have a nice dorm, good roommates, and good classes, I am allowing myself to be drawn to a competitive friendship. I've never been one to claim superiority or act as if I am the best, which very clearly I am not. So why is my friend trying to one up me?
           I love many things. Harry Potter. Star Wars. Disney. So does she. I figured this was enough to start a friendship. We could share and discuss as we were fans of the same breed. But clearly she has some problem with me. Does she feel like I am stealing something from her? Obviously at home we were both queens of such dominions, the so called experts. But now are we trying to compete for this title at school. I've never cared for such acknowledgements, let her have it. But don't assume I am not going to speak out about these things, hold my tongue and strictly listen to only her. I have a say, don't I? I have a right to go on the fansites and tell my friends what is going on without being brought into a sort of unclear competition of who knows best. Right?
            I admit sometimes I expect to much from people. I want everything I tell to be new, fascinating, and excite them just as it did for me. But this one just won't let me have it. She already knows. Everything. I know it's petty, I am slightly petty. Perhaps I am not supposed to have the meaningful friendships I see in fiction. I guess the real truth is that they do not exist. Oh well. Time to find a different friend.

"Captain, I find this completely illogical."

          I can't think. I don't have the proper capacity to do so. Instead I base my speech on emotion, something that my dear fictional friend Mr. Spock would find completely illogical. Now I would say I fear my thinking as much as I fear acting, and I've never figured out why. Being introduced to theorists such as Jerome Bruner in my English 105 class has forced me to begin thinking. I can no longer escape the severe musings in what is called my mind. This being said I find Bruner's theories to not only have unhinged my thought process but to alter how I think.
          Bruner defines language as a social construction explaining how it is not part of the natural world. Language already forces a perspective on communicators and the human role in the world. Bruner demonstrates humanity's close relationship to language through is explanation of how the first thing young children learn when learning speech is first and second speech therefore distinguishing themselves as individuals. In this way, language becomes the instrument in how we define ourselves.
          If language distinguishes who we are in relation to the world (becoming aware that we are "I" or "me") then certainly language can shape how we perceive both the world and ourselves. There is nothing inherent about language, allowing it to be molded or sculpted into different perceptions. Each word holds concepts created by language, a social construct, then all we know can be considered a social construct or concept. Though Bruner does not necessarily definitively state this, his ideas have allowed me to understand that when my search for a logical voice or thought process is not warranted.
          I am searching for an inherent part of myself that doesn't exist. Bruner has made me realize that my thought process is a construction and I must adjust it to fit what I am looking for instead of waiting for it to appear. I feel something weight has been lifted off my shoulders as I am not trapped in a world without my brain (does this remind you of the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz? I totally feel that vibe...) but have the freedom to choose how to shape it. I don't know if that is how or what Bruner intended or if this makes any sense but he has altered how much power I think I have. I feel like I am talking about secret Jedi abilities (which I so totally have). :P

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Did I just crack a Star Trek and Star Wars joke in one blog? Why, yes I did. Yay nerdiness!

Men. Like they exist...

             So, I am going to be slightly sexist right now. (Sorry male readers!) I would say I don't understand men but that'd be a lie. Because I do. They are lazy sacs of water that have no sense of direction. Harsh? I'm sorry but seriously the next time I am forced to do a project/presentation with a man (or rather boy...) I might scream. I know I am not prefect. Sometimes I get doubts about the direction I am headed toward. But as far as academics go, I always try to figure out my shit. So why is it, blog, that every time I meet up with a male to discuss our project/presentation they act as if we will magically figure out 2 minutes before we present? Do they think a fairy will come down and give them their prompt? Holy mother of god. I am only one person. I don't care about your stupid seminar test, or the fact that you like science more than english just help me with the damn project. Alright, he is a nice guy but I am nervous. He just up and left me and we have nothing for this presentation.
               Let me be clear, I rarely deal with straight men (as partners for projects, friends, etc.). My interests, especially theater, align with many men but many are gay (or come out sometime during the friendship). I love my friends regardless of their sexual orientation but I just rarely talk to straight men alone. And in a way I feel like my inexperience let's them take advantage of me, making me do all the work for these projects. Anyway they seem aloof when I talk to them. It never is a fair trade in theater, lots of straight girls, many gay guys, and one straight guy, but I guess I don't get distracted. It just sucks coming back to the real world realizing you don't know how to talk to a straight male you are not related to.

So to sum up, I have no straight male friends.
Exciting I know. For those interested in Zombie Prom I will have times and dates soon. Expect Nov. 13-15.