My Head Hurts.

It started with one tough day. Then came another. It's so easy to believe in myself when I'm on form. It's a whole different ball game when what felt easy two days ago is suddenly a constant struggle. I keep having to tell myself that it's all a process to be stronger and better--that agility needs to be accumulated and dexterity carefully cultivated--but it's still hard not to beat myself up over days like these.

I hate how delicate the human voice is. One day it's gargantuan and utterly unstoppable. The next day it punishes me with all of the power and none of the finesse. At times it simply flies itself into the stratosphere, floating gorgeous high Ds, Es, Fs, Gs, and even As an octave above the staff. Yet other times, even sputtering out an aesthetically passable high C is a grueling vertical climb.

It probably doesn't help that I haven't had a lesson in nearly two weeks.

I walked away from the piano five or six times today, my frustration gaining momentum with each successive episode of abandonment. At the end of it all, I wanted nothing more than to scream out until the notes would come to me. I didn't.

This genre I've enveloped myself in is incredibly unforgiving. In the popular and folk traditions of vocal expression, perceptible flaws are widely accepted--embraced even. Adele finds herself on the receiving end of critical acclaim despite the rawness of her technique. Indeed, the slight rasp and unrefined musical phrases lend her a certain charm and character that I myself admire. But in this tiny niche of classical voice, the standard is very much... standard. And of all those who will judge me in the coming months, I swear I am my own greatest critic. I know the sound and sensation of what I am capable of. I can feel the way the music should be shaped before the pianist even touches the keys. I am perfectly aware of my potential, and I cannot be satisfied unless my own expectations are fulfilled. Once they are, well, that just means that I haven't set my sights nearly high enough.

Yet I know that nothing can be forced. The harder I try, the harder it gets. My best musical moments have all been products of offhanded vocalizations without so much as a thought given to technique, expression, or anything at all. If only it could always be so easy!

This evening will have been a success if and only if I can manage to shrug off today's lingering negativity. Here's hoping that rest will calm my thoughts and make for a better tomorrow. I could really use a new day right about now.

My Hometown High

My last week of August is going to be spent in the bay. Love.

Work starts in a week. I'm now 22. My friends are the shit. Got RT'd by Kristen Sze today. Eric brought Bella over to play with Leia in the afternoon (SO CUTE!). Sushi dinner with the fam to celebrate David's 19th and my 22nd. I've logged some really solid practice time yesterday and today. Gernot and I haven't talked for nearly two days now, which feels rather odd, but not unsettling.

I'm doing a lot of studying of roles--preparing for aria staging next week. New side project is also in the works: learning an entire opera role. I've already partially learned Fiordiligi of Mozart's Cosi fan tutte. I might finish that one up, but more likely I'll pick up Marie of Donizetti's La fille du Regiment or Giulietta of Bellini's I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Both are only two acts and better suited to my voice as of right now. Plus I practically have the entirety of La fille du Regiment committed to memory... it's my favorite comic opera. I've watched it at least 5 times lol.

Prepping for a zillion auditions/competitions. I don't think I have to worry about the SD Opera Chorus (the important thing was that I got my name out there). Metropolitan Council, The Messiah, Long Beach Mozart Festival, La Jolla Symphony Young Artist... there's plenty to busy myself with.

My Slight Confusion...

I woke up at 6 a.m. yesterday. Got up, put on (minimal) clothes, brushed my teeth, and plopped down in front of my computer to check e-mails. Gernot was Facebook. We talked for... two hours. And then I went to yoga, did my trying to be not sick thing, etc. Had pho. Went out to ghetto-suburbia, San Diego (jk. Pitchers/Cheers). Hung out. Stuff.

And then this morning, I went to yoga, did a little cleaning, and got a phone call. From him. From abroad. Ummm... melt. Little while later, I was online and he IM'd me on Facebook. We then Skyped. For hours.

OK. I know we're just dating. And I know that I've been laying low and keeping things relatively chill on the whole relationship front thing, but this shit is pretty fuckin cute. And I am a tiny bit falling harder. Fuck. Oops!

Actually we're skyping right now again because he's jetlagged and can't sleep (it's 4:30 am over there).

My Rough Return

I had originally intended on returning to San Diego on Sunday night. Didn't happen. We watched this crazyass German psychothriller: Antikoerper (Antibodies in English). Seriously, so good. Streamed it on Netflix. It's nuts.

Anyway, that took until 9:30 ish, at which point we were both hungry so we decided to get In-N-Out before I headed out. But then when we got there, it was totally packed, so we took our food to go and ate at his place. Went totally nuts on the ketchup. Stuff like that. I helped him clean up, etc. At that point it was creeping towards 11... and with Ted's busted headlight, we just said "screw it" and I stayed another night.

But he had to pack. For a month in Austria. So we kinda just had this late night cleaning kickback while he blasted some Manufactured Superstars. It worked out for the best. He didn't have to pull an all-nighter getting his apartment in order and I didn't have to high-beam my way all the way back to SD. In the end, we cuddled up on the couch for half an hour while waiting for his last load of laundry to finish cycling at 1 am... neither of us saying a damn thing.

What we have is... odd, to say the least. I'm happy not hammering out the details of exactly what it is we share. And it's kind of a relief that we can continue to dodge that talk for at least another month. (Can you believe we've had this oddity of a friendship for over a month now???) Anyway, things are fine the way they are. I... have no idea what I want anymore with regards to... all of that.

The only thing I know for sure is that I want to sing. And I want to be the best. And I can be the fucking best. Everything else is... a bonus. "I really like this guy, we have a pretty awesome chemistry, and the sex is to die for." is about as much as I can hope for right now. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't need any drama. All I need is to practice like the dickens and take what's mine.