Reviens, reviens radieuse

The song I’m singing tonight for studio is Fauré’s “Après un rêve.” That means, “after a dream.”

I feel like I’m waking up.

I’m waking up from a strange place into a world that’s grey with some splashes of color that are only glimpsed in moments of great artistic or emotional poignancy. I’m waking to a shimmering dawn that’s bleached but still beautiful, and it’s only those moments of clarity that lend it something really special.

I did my first “breaking up” yesterday evening. I woke up this morning and was just sad for a while. It’s weird for me to wake into sadness but there I was, and my heart hurt.

I don’t think it’s the same for him. I think his distance was achieved a few weeks ago and that’s why I’m having the more difficult time of it. I did the breaking up, but it was because I refuse to see myself as a last priority, and that’s what I was becoming. It wasn’t because I wanted to be alone, or wanted away from him.

So I’m a little sad, and feeling kind of bleak today. But something interesting, and, I suppose, valuable, happened to me today, both in my lesson and in Intro to Lyric Theatre.

I almost cried.

I was on the verge in both places, both right after I’d sung. My Intro piece, “Meine Liebe ist grün,” is a Brahms Lied that stirs up extravagant imagery: glistening, glittering glowing sunshine throwing a verdant lilac bush into dazzling happy light; dizzy with love, a soul rocked into love-drunkenness– these things are beautiful. But the accompaniment is set strangely– a thickly textured, rambunctious sweep of notes that leave the listener hanging at unusually placed fermatas– this leads me to interpret a story of a person yearning for a love as extravagant as the harmony… but whose needs aren’t really fulfilled.

I cried a little after singing that today, because it applied to me.

Après un rêve was a little less extreme, but its entire encompassing theme is a yearning: Awakening from a slumber, you’re there, you call my name, we venture off into the light together… Then I begin to wake… Return with your lies, return oh night mysterious– the concept is of one clinging to something that isn’t real, and the melodic language is powerful.

I have to sing that in little over an hour, so I hope I don’t blubber in class, too.

I guess they’re just incredibly relatable to how I feel right now. That’s where I draw from the sense I have of color, and real artistic breakthroughs… It’s moments like these, “real” moments, when I’m feeling something (other than pressure and stress, ha ha) that remind me I can bring “real” things to the music I perform. Granted I’m just the tiniest bit upset still, and that doesn’t help a whole lot… but the fact is I remember I can feel other things and bring them to what I’m doing. And that’s something important I can draw from this.

Perch’io non voglio

I’ve been doing a lot of crying lately. It’s stupid, I know. I know, I know, I know. But I can’t help acknowledge that there must be some validity to my own feelings otherwise I wouldn’t be such a mess. I’m not normally like this.

And I feel ridiculous trying to blog about it because I feel like it will just be a huge list of complaints, and that pisses me off more than anything– the complaining, the bitchiness, the constant WHINING from EVERYONE HERE… Why aren’t we happy? As a whole, all this school does is complain. The workload is too much, the students don’t get enough (from the lecture, from the facility, from the dining center, from the ensemble office, etc)– which is true, this is true! But the negativity is so catching and God help me, I’ve just been bursting into tears the past few days and it’s not even that time of the month.

I’ve been told that I shouldn’t be here. In someone’s opinion, I would be “happier” at home.

That’s true. But it’s also true that I’d hate myself if I gave up everything I’ve worked so hard for. It is my decision to put myself through this absolutely exhausting, challenging, difficult school, and it is also my decision to pursue this as a career– and don’t tell me that someone else’s passion for this is greater or their experience is more vast– don’t tell me that. I am learning. We’re all learning, and are at different places in our development musically, and in terms of repertoire and general knowledge– don’t I deserve a chance to get my feet under me, in my own time, on my owns terms, before I’m dismissed as a farm girl that should go home? I don’t want to determine at this stage of the game what I want to do with my life– but do I need someone else insinuating where I’d like to end up? Hell, no. Go away.

That doesn’t change the fact that I miss my home. I miss my family. I miss my sweet dog, that I’ve raised from a puppy for the past ten years, who left this world yesterday.

I miss hugs and an environment where the people around you care about more how you’re actually doing, than how you’re going to affect them and their career. I miss a place where others respect me and what I can do and don’t doubt me, constantly. I miss an environment where I know what I’m doing and don’t doubt myself.

But I love the challenge, and the things I’m learning here. And for the most part my colleagues are wonderful people. I don’t know if it’s the planetary alignment or something in the water, but the atmosphere here has just been unbearable. That coupled with homesickness (and dogsickness? or wait, I think that’s called a level of grief, maybe), and this week has been no fun at all.