A year in the life...

I cannot believe it has been a little over a year since my last post,  There are many witty quips to insert here about time flying and in a blink of an eye.  It truly is amazing how time does seem to slip through ones fingers so rapidly.  I've had a wonderful year.  A year filled with travel, friends, family, work and loads of restorative beach time.  One of the advantages of having Long Island boyfriend is the opportunity to spend many many moments at the beach.  As a desert rat from the great southwest I am still awed by the immense beauty of the sea.  We are so fortunate here in New York to be surrounded by water.  I live one block from the confluence of the Hudson and Harlem rivers.  I sit on a bench and mull over my list of do tos whilst watching the mighty rivers roil.  I'm so fortunate.  I'm a little crab, cancer born here, and I have loved water my entire life.  From fountains to pools, to puddles after a desert rain I've always had an appreciation and love of water.

Some of my fondest memories are of sitting on our back porch and watching the thunderstorms roll in and pour down those golden drops.  My Mother and I would hastily place her beautiful potted planted under the rushing stream of run off.  The smell of the desert after a rain is a most glorious thing.  I'm convinced that if one could successfully bottle it the financial gains would be through the roof!  But perhaps things like that aren't meant to be reproduced but to be experienced in the moment.  Savored.  Cherished.  Like so many trying to catch lightning in a bottle, the secret may lie in taking the time to enjoy things when they happen.  A few summers ago my family took an Alaskan cruise.  It was astounding.  I've never experienced anything like it.  At one point we were on a whale watching tour and a huge pod of humpbacks surfaced right next to the boat.  Magical.  Everyone was clamoring for their video cameras, phones and 35 mm's.  I was right there with them and got some beautiful pictures.  At some point Pam and I just stopped filming and began to really enjoy the experience.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE pictures.  My brother in law is a master photog and has truly captured the essence of many of our trips.  But even he put down the camera and just took in the moment.  It's important to savor these moments.  Input them into the memory bank.  I'm so happy we did.

One of my highlights this summer was to travel back to Canyon Texas for the 50th Anniversary to The Musical Drama TEXAS!  It was simply divine.  I saw friends I hadn't seen in 25 years.  That just doesn't seem possible but well...refer above to cliche about flying clocks. The weekend was jammed packed with memories and events.  It was so wonderful to catch up with old friends, meet new ones, celebrate those that have gone before us and relish in the current production.  Such a talented group this year.  I adored the show!  My only complaint was that the weekend was simply too short.  I'm so grateful to facebook for putting us all back in touch.  I love seeing everyones adventures and families.  It's good to have a community and a history to share with friends.  One of the most touching moments was when a friend came up and told me she had been following my blog and that my journey with my grief was akin to hers.  When I started this journey I did it for healing purposes.  It was my response to the all encompassing grief I felt after we lost our Mom.  It was healing and helpful to know I could come here and express my feelings.  I never contemplated that it was mirror anyone else experience.  I thank you Tara for letting me know.  It was wonderful seeing you!

Well, dear friends, I'm off to the panhandle again tomorrow.  I will be performing with Amarillo Opera for the next few weeks.  If you're in the area, give me a shout.  I 'm so looking forward to being back in the country I love so much.

Love and light,

Mel

Shifting Sands...

Hello Bloggerinis!!!

Summer months seemed to fly by, as they usually do.  I do love summer.  I think growing up in the Sun City had a lot to do with that.  We have summer about 7 months of the year.  I remember having to buy a winter coat when off to college and then having to upgrade said coat when my journey brought me to the east coast.  The first day of truly warm weather is a holiday in my book.  Sleeveless blouses, shorts and well worn trusty converse sneaks are my uniform and I bask in the warm glow of the sun.  I love to swim and this summer afforded me some spectacular beach time.  Having a beau who lives 5 minutes from the beach has its advantages.  September is barreling down here in NYC and in true east coast fashion this is the hottest week we've had thus far.

So typical for an east coast vibe.  We simply refuse to do what  we are told, when we are told it and in a fashion the rest of the country would deem appropriate.  Such a difficult and petulant place NYC can be.  While some things seem so easy, others can just drain the life out of you.  Think your local DMV, Friday 4:30 pm times 250, ALL THE TIME.  I celebrated 14 years in NYC this past weekend.  I was in Philly for 8 before that. I've officially lived on the east coast longer than I have in Texas.  An odd milestone to realize given my deep roots in the Lone Star State.  I suppose with my transient lifestyle I always thought I'd return to Texas.  I might, but I won't be the same Texan I was when I left.  I'm burnished, frayed, and informed by the patina of living in a city that is at once miraculous and in the blink of an eye so difficult that swimming through honey seems a less daunting task.

There is a restlessness in the air here these days. The world seems to be imploding on itself and I find myself so distracted by world events and the cruelty we inflict on each other.  I will never understand it.  I could rant for paragraphs about ideologies and power struggles but it would be nothing new.  What is new is the creeping sense that times are truly "a-changing".  I've noticed others in my Facebook realm comment on this niggling feeling.  I wonder if the collective "we" have a deep intuition that is mostly untapped.  Imagine the power of banding to together to realize this shift and move seamlessly together to a new more peaceful paradigm. Evolution at it's highest form.  New York is a good example of the conundrum that faces our evolving world.  It is a city that is chock full of people looking out only for themselves, yet needing the power of the millions to make it through their day successfully.  Taking the time to extend just the tiniest droplet of kindness would improve things exponentially.  Small changes made by large groups of population can help stabilize this ever shifting beach we are traversing.

So how about it dear friends.  Let's make a pledge to be just a little bit kinder.  It might seem foreign at first but like any new and worthy endeavor it will become second nature in no time!  Let us be the change, let us take back the power, let US grow this world into the paradise we know it can be.  The first step is to think outside of our apartment walls and reach out, if only in the tiniest way.  I have faith we can do this.

~Mel

The loss of a great one

Hello readers.

I'm sad to announce that Maestro Lorin Maazel passed away this morning.  I'm still in a bit of a shock at the news.  He was so supportive of me and my career.  I spent three summers at the Castleton Festival and I treasure them.  The following in an excerpt of my original "city gal diaries" from my time on the farm.  The diaries were the precursor to this blog and only a select few got these emails.  It sums up my time in Castleton well and the generous spirit of this amazing man.

Well, himself is here.  Everything has changed and I can tell you dear friends I have never been so happy to see someone in my life!  Well, maybe that is a bit of an overstatement but I'm down right giddy.  The run went very well yesterday and he was pleased.  The orchestra arrived yesterday morning from Japan.  They are a college age group and arrived exhausted and not speaking much English.  They have an interpreter with them, thank the good Lord.

Last night they had their first orchestra rehearsal.  The poor kids were so tired, I can only imagine how they felt.  We were invited to quietly watch the rehearsal from the balcony.  The assistant conductor, who is awesome, ran the rehearsal with Maestro sitting right behind him leading the way.  I did not envy Tim this task but he handled it with grace and aplomb.  At one point a most hilarious game of "telephone" ensued.  Maestro would give a note to Tim then Tim to the interpreter and then the interpreter to the tired, jet lagged orchestra.  Maestro doesn't miss anything and the game went on for hours.  It was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed.  Each tuning issue, bowing change and tempi discussion was truly a just reminder of why I do what I do.  

I sat in the darkened balcony and watched music being forged and shaped in a most intriguing and satisfying way.  They worked so hard to make each note correct.  Truth be told they weren't quite up to snuff and aren't now but they were receptive and seemed to absorb the telephone game with some success.  I watched my score as the notes simply came to life and danced across the page.  The orchestration for this piece was done by Benjamin Britten.  While we, the singers, are intoning John Gay's vision the orchestra is bringing Britten's mastery to the plate.  It is a heady combination and my mind swam with the melodies and possibilities of this most unique show. 

I've learned many valuable lessons during my tenure in this crazy biz but perhaps one of the most was reinforced by my dear Pavarotti.  He insisted everyone be in the theatre for every rehearsal.  It didn't matter if we were in that scene or not, hence my first hand knowledge of Tosca Act III.  We sat there and watched our colleagues and our music staff create art.  In this time of cookie cutter, fast food culture, sometimes we don't think about what it truly takes to do what it is that we do.  I'm so happy that chose to attend this rehearsal.  It was not mandatory and no one is the wiser but this afternoon when Maestro takes the stick at our Sitzprobe I will know that my first piece is only accompanied by one horn player until the oboe obbligato.  I will know that the percussiveness of the piano will be replaced by a much smoother and quieter harp.  These little school notes are not the true lesson though.  I spent 3 and half hours in the presence of one of our great musical minds.  Call me greedy but I am going to steal as many moments of that mind as I possibly can.  I know Pav would be proud and I will have rekindled a musical spirit within me that many years of Holiday Inns and Comfort Suites have beaten out of me.

Rest well and God's speed Maestro.  I will miss you.

~Melsy

Beach Blanket Bingo!

I am truly a blessed woman.  Counting all of them would take days and I have committed myself to keeping a grateful attitude.  It's easier said than done at times.  But even in the face of life's little bugaboos I really am focusing on the positive side.

As some of you may have gleaned I have a new love in my life.  He's truly a blessing and we are simply having just the best time! Part of this experience was a wonderful Christmas gift of a cruise to the Caribbean.  Well, dear friends, I am fresh off the boat, sun kissed, relaxed, over fed and laughed out beyond belief.  We had such a great time!  Let me touch on just a few highlights and special moments from out experience.

We sailed from NYC.  This was nothing short of magical!  I have cruised before but never from just down the road and let me tell you.....life changing!  Brad and I hopped a taxi to the pier and were having a nosh and a pina colada within the hour.  We were blessed with lovely weather the day we sailed and I was able to capture some wonderful pictures of the new Freedom tower. I have seen it up close but not from the water and it is powerful addition to our fair city.

We spent the next few days at sea.  Because of the time of year and the amount of water we needed to cover it was a rough few days.  Thankfully my dear sister gave me some patches and I would not have been able to enjoy these days without them.  I am prone to sea sickness and this smoothed the rough edges.  These few days we got to experience the glorious transition from winter to warmer summer air.  The moist sun filled air soothed me to the core.  I know I'm preaching to the choir here but this winter has simply sucked the life out of NYC, and more specifically me.  Between the icy sidewalks, snowy banks and grey skies, topped off by my recent injuries have left me with  dirty dishwater disposition and a pallor worthy of any Dickensian novel. I needed this brightening up and am so grateful for the trip.

Our first port o' call was beautiful Old San Juan, Puerto Rico.  Sadly we had a very short amount to time to explore the city.  Brad has been to Puerto Rico many times and knew of a wonderful restaurant famous for it's deep fried Red Snapper.  We hopped a cab and in no time were darkening the door of El Jibaritto.  The charming atmosphere, ice diet cokes and delectable fish was a real treat.  Here's a picture of our friend.

Before:

And After:

Next up was picturesque St. Maarten.  I have never travelled to the Carribean before and I was simply enchanted with the beautiful crystal waters and soothing air.  The weather was flawless.  A perfect 85 degrees with expansive blue skies.  We spent the day at the wonderful Divi resort were we met a new friend.

This is Gizmo:

It is his restaurant and here we munched on fresh grilled shrimp.  The gorgeous water simply beckoned us and I tried to bust out my best tropical fashion:

It was an extraordinary day and I could begin to feel the icy winter leave my bones.  Bit by bit I was defrosting.  I will never forget the color of these waters.  My Father calls it "Disneyland Water".  He's right and I am pretty convinced that little island gnomes creep into the night and dye the water this azure potion.

The next day we hit St. Thomas.  One spectacular view after another.  We opted to cab it to Magen's bay, one of the top rated beaches in the world.  We hoped on a beach shuttle and were treated to a little tour of the island.  I always love to step off of the beaten path and I did enjoy seeing a little bit of the local scene.  I'd love to go back to St. Thomas. The people, the air, the water and the fresh seafood are on the top of my list.  One surprise was that my cell phone worked here!  It is a US territory and frankly my reception was better here than in NYC!  I was able to facetime with Dad for a bit and he got to see this astounding beach.  It was as if he was with me for a bit.  I cannot wait to take him here someday.  What a marvel technology can be!

Our next day was spent exploring a new port for Norwegian cruise line.  Samana, Dominican Republic is one of the most undeveloped sections of the Island.  Brad and I being the adventurers that we were chose to forge our own way and hit the pier running.  They have no formal pier so we were shuttled by boat to a small docking station.  This process is called tendering.  We caught an early tender and found ourselves bombarded by the local shop keepers and taxi drivers.  We did a little shopping and Brad really got into negotiating for items.  It was fun.  We found a "taxi" to take us to one of the local beaches.  I use this term lightly.  It was basically a metal cart attached to a moped!  They took us to Annabel beach where we enjoyed another delicious snapper, cold presidente beer and warm beautiful water for a delicious swim.  

We tendered back to the island around 3:00 pm for a 4 pm sail time. While on the tender I noticed a beautiful older woman with absolutely stunning hands and fingernails.  Her fingers were dotted with tasteful diamonds and a lovely coral bracelet.  I noticed her right away.  She was wearing crisp white slacks and a colorful cotton blouse.  In other words, she was my Mom, if Mom had lived to see her 80's.  I was truly gobsmacked by my reaction to seeing this elegant woman.  She was with her sprightly husband and was enjoying every minute of our short tender journey.  I mused on the immense injustice of my Mother's early passing.  She and Dad should have been with Brad and I . Laughing, haggling and exploring uncharted territory.  I cry foul, universe, FOUL!  Luckily, sunburned cheeks and sunglasses hid my misty moment.  I was shocked at my reaction.  I just couldn't take my eyes off this stunning woman. She was a vision and a little embodiment of Mother and her love to travel and tasteful Caribbean haberdashery.  I never saw her again on this trip and I like to think she was placed in my eye line to let me physically enjoy the presence of Mom.   

The following days at sea were filled with Bingo, slot tourneys, craps table adventures, deck lounging, steak consuming and book devouring.  All in all the week was just what the doctor ordered.  One of my favorite things was returning to our cabin from an evening of reggae and colada's to a towel animal placed in our cabin by our steward.  Here are a couple of my most favorite:

We returned this morning to this love letter from NYC:

This is the very deck where I was luxuriating a mere 24 hours before.  It was a charming surprise actually because at my core I feel this:

Which has a lot to do with this:

Thank you, my sweet, for helping this ice princess to melt.

Asking....

Isn't it amazing how time flies?  It slips from our fingers like tiny, slippery grains of sand.  6 months since my last entry and so many wonderful things have entered my life. Adventures, triumphs and even a new love have engulfed me like a welcoming warm blanket. I promise more detail about these things in the near future but today I need to talk about my recent experience with, that ever sexy and  titillating  subject....sciatic nerve pain.

A little over 3 weeks ago I woke up with a little tension in my lower back.  Nothing out of the ordinary caused this pain, no heavy rock lifting or super human antics.  Just sleep.  Yes, I was betrayed by my fancy new bed.  I suppose I should have kept the bag of rocks and straw I'd been sleeping on. Well, hindsight..and all that jazz.  By that evening I was couched and flat on my back wincing at every little twist and turn.  It hurt when I was still, it hurt when I was moving, you get my point.  The next morning I simply could not get out of bed.  I truly thought that it would vanish with a little advil and a good nights sleep.  That day is when my numb toes arrived and I knew I was having my first attack of sciatica.  My Father has suffered with this condition for years and I've watched him struggle and fight through it like the true champion he is.  I had no idea this is what he was going through and now have first hand knowledge of his experience. It is dreadful.  I spent the next few days holed up and suffering. Remember, dear friends, I live on the 3rd floor of a walk up building. I was trapped.  Ron was on a gig and I was alone in the house.  I think it took me 3 or 4 days to admit to anyone that I was down for the count.  Even then I kept a lot of the gruesome details to myself.  Suffering in a self pity soup for days on end.  Miserable.  Lots of screaming, tears and "why mes" rained down upon the streets of upstate manhattan.

I was well cared for on the weekends by my wonderful beau, Brad. He was a force of nature, cooking, cleaning, shopping and ice bagging for me.  What a blessing he is.  The weekdays were much harder.  Although I really did not want any witnesses to my situation I admit those days dragged on.  I've never been confined to bed for so long.  More than two minutes on my feet brought on an excruciating radiation of pain down my leg.  Think charlie horse, times 10.  Unbearable.

During these past few weeks the anniversary of my Mother's passing occurred.  It seems unbelievable that 3 years have passed so quickly.  That elusive life beach of slippery sand flows so quickly. My thoughts rest with Mom so often.  Even more during this period.  My Mother spent the better part of the last year of her life in bed.  After her first surgery she never fully healed and the disease just attacked her from every angle and took her from us one piece at a time.  In this time I never once saw my Mother reduced to the places I went these past weeks.  I saw her frustrated, angry and hesitant but honestly, the full blown melt down I experienced was not pretty folks.  I'm sure Mom had her private moments.  But, her strength and grace were simply outer worldly and I have no idea how she survived it for as long as she did.  Simply put, she was the strongest person I've ever known.

The worst betrayal in the world in one that involves your own body.  I've been a lucky woman.  I'm generally healthy and strong.  I've had a few spills on stage but for the most part I've been so fortunate.  I was simply at a loss when Ron returned home.  Stuck in bed for weeks and the pain just seemed to persist in a most pervasive way.  No relief, even with drugs, stretching, rest, ice...it all just seemed so futile.

Then I stepped outside of my comfort zone and did something I rarely do.  I posted about it on facebook.  Within a few minutes my inbox and comments were filled with well wishes, prayers and suggestions for doctors, acupuncturist, massage therapists etc.  It was a miracle.  I cannot understate this.  I don't speak about my faith very often.  It is such a personal journey for me.  God and I spent a lot of time together these few weeks.  Mostly me screaming and questioning.  Bringing up biblical healing and wondering what I had done to be forsaken so.  I never claimed not to be a drama queen, even one of biblical proportions.  When the deafening silence became to much I broke down and vented into cyberspace and every prayer was answered.  I've now met a most amazing massage therapist who comes to my apartment to help me.  He's a good Texas boy, West Texas A&M graduated, TEXAS musical veteran, and I can not overstate how valuable our sessions have been.  I now have connections to all sorts of professionals to help me with this issue.

As a singer I play my cards very close to my vest when it comes to personal matters.  It seems so strange to be in a profession that demands emotional vulnerability on stage and autonomy off of it.  It's also just in my nature to be private and not ask anything of anyone.  It's an art form, asking for help, and I am not a very good artist when it comes to that.  I suppose I equate it to weakness which is something I abhor, especially in myself. My perspective has changed. God did heal me, in a most unexpected way.  He broke down one of my most impenetrable walls and led me to ask for help. This is much bigger than a little jolt to my hip.  Mysterious ways are his trademark.

As to my healing, I'm better.  Still sore, and mornings are an adventure but I'm walking and even have left the apartment, once.  It was 22 degrees and snow filled and the most beautiful day I've experienced!   I have a gig next week, Beethoven's wonderful 9th symphony, and I know I will be just fine.  Now to transfer my new found help seeking skills into my everyday life.  I would never balk at helping anyone in need in anyway I can.  It is absurd to shirk at the idea of reaching out myself.  I'm a believer folks and I have one almighty power to thank for putting all you amazing people in my life.

Summer Lovin'

Hello blogosphere!

Summer has finally arrived here in ye olde New York City. As in years past it seems to appear in the blink of an eye.  One rainy Tuesday it hovers around 52 degrees and then, seemingly without warning, the mercury rises to 90 and some change.  i complain about it every year, as do most of my NYC brothers and sisters.  But let's face it folks.  THIS HAPPENS EVERY YEAR!  We start to yearn for blossoms, beer gardens and bermuda shorts during those few short tease days in late April.  We convince ourselves that this is the mysterious season spring, that so many people speak about.  We spend weekend hours productively folding and putting away our winter wardrobes and pulling out the treasures found at last years end of season sales.  Kelly green sundress???  What magical elf left you in my storage bin this winter?  It is a wondrous and effervescent time.  What we do not realize is that those same sundress elves are plotting our demise when they slam us with the scarf, sweater and sun depravation weather.  I wore a TURTLE NECK to the farmer's market last weekend.  A TURTLE NECK.  Mother nature you are a fickle beast and please remind me never to land on your bad side.

Although the temps will dip again, thankfully, in the coming week I do believe I can safely pack up my cashmere and move on to the delights of summer dressing.  I grew up in El Paso Texas where it is quite possible to wear sandals 300 days of the year, if not more.  I remember having to buy a heavy winter coat when I left home for college.  They say the only thing between the North pole and North Texas is a barbed wire fence, and it's down half the time.  I was almost prepared for my move to the East Coast oh so many years ago.  But is anyone really EVER prepared for the East coast?  So, the glee and delight I feel in being able to don a pair of shorts and sandals to go to market this morning is joyous.  Of course, in true New Yorker form we are all complaining about the heat.  I fear if we are every truly happy and content here in the big city the apple would simply stop turning and the apocalypse might be among us. Gratefully, knowing my fellow apples, we are in very little danger of this happening.  We live for being malcontented and grouchy. Ok, maybe that's just me.  But I know I'm not alone in this.  There is something so unifying about kwetching at the deli about this and that.  It's the glue that holds this great city together.  That and food delivery, well delivery of any kind really.  When that stops I'm officially out of here.

I've rambled enough, I'm off to put on that surprise kelly green dress and head to a fabulous BBQ.  Another treat here in the dirty city.....BBQ's!  I'll think of you as I'm chopping down on a rib trying not to ruin my new couture!

Stay cool mes amis!

Family Ties

The importance of family to me is obvious from my previous posts.  I have been blessed with the most supportive, hilarious, and loving family.  I know this to be true and I am grateful for it every day.  A few weeks ago I had the extreme pleasure to sing with my hometown opera company.  The production was lively, colorful and most importantly well attended.  The true boon of this experience was getting to spend a lot of quality time with my Dad.  We had such a wonderful time singing together at church, teaching together at the high school where he was brought on to do some coaching, and exploring new culinary delights in El Paso.  WHY must there be so many culinary delights in El Paso??  There isn't a corner store that doesn't boast a delectable treat or some sort.  For a foodie such as myself it is a veritable playground.

When I returned to New York my heart and soul remained with my family and I had this overwhelming urge to visit my cousins in Mississippi for Easter.  I am a planning fool when it comes to travel and the idea of a spontaneous trip is quite unlike me.  But the urge was there and I knew I would be happier if I took the leap.  Luckily, I had good airfare karma.  Also, trying to implement my NOW credo I made the arrangements.

I'm so elated I made this trip.  My cousins made me feel like a Queen.  I got to spend time with my impressive and so very adult cousin Laura.  She is a graduate student at LSU and I am so in awe of the woman she has become.  I really enjoyed our time together and could not be prouder of what she and her sisters have accomplished.  My sweet cousin Martha treated me as one of her own and even had an easter basket waiting for me when I arrived Friday night.  It was chock full of treasures and it was such a welcoming gesture.  Martha and my Mother were extremely close. They were raised more like sisters than cousins.  She has some of the same mannerisms and sensibilities of Mom.  I hadn't realized how similar they were until I just observed her in the kitchen. It struck me that I craved her presence because I wanted to be near my Mother.  I hadn't even realized this until this moment.

We were treated to an Easter feast that afternoon and I had the joy of spending time with my other cousin Dennis and his family.  Their daughter has grown into a lovely young woman and I was so pleased to get so see them all.  Kay even had a little Christmas present for me!  I felt so warm and cherished this weekend.

I am deeply grateful for my family.  It is easy for me to feel disconnected from them because I live so far away.  I also admit that I am not the best at keeping in touch.  But thats the rub, they are your family and part of you resides in them just as they reside in you.  I need but look in the mirror or to my sister to see my Mothers face or hear her sweet voice.  She is in us.  What a lucky woman I am, indeed.

NOW!

Spring is struggling here in the big apple.  The buds are pushing through with a stubborn east coast focus against this endless chill that has settled over the city.  It is a clear, blue skied morning here in upper manhattan.  The breeze flows through my gauzy curtains, even if it must worm its way across the heat blast of my out of control radiator.  Even though the winter is long, spring in inevitable.  It may take months to fully realize the transition but New Yorkers will once again be fanning themselves on subway platforms and complaining about the muggy, claustrophobic air that engulfs the city in the summer time.

Perhaps this year we won't complain as much.  Knowing what a hard winter we had will somehow affect that inevitable "complain" sensor that most New Yorkers have.  I have it.  For example, I can't stand in line.  I hate it.  When I am out of the city and must stand in line I blame whatever part of the country I'm in, what country I'm in, the climate, attitude and general being of whomever has to be in my orbit as I'm waiting in line.  Disneyland and I are not always on good terms because of this.  Fast pass...really?  But I digress.  There seems to be a switch that flips when one thing moves to another.  That itchy reserve nerve simply resonates to spew my displeasure at the situation.  It is draining!

I am working hard to appreciate things when they happen, in the here and now.  My life sometimes is a huge puzzle board of a waiting game.   I WAIT for the next gig only to go on said gig and WAIT to get home to my loved ones.  It is a vicious cycle that I had no idea I was a victim of, until recently.  So, I'm making a pledge to remain in the now and be at peace with my situation. Whether it be a sitzprobe or waiting in line at a midtown Duane Reade, I'm going to resolve to take it as it comes.  Yes, I'm hard core like that, have you ever been to a midtown Duane Reade?  If I make it through this little experiment I will emerge on the other side a fully satisfied Melsy.  It's a big goal, being in the hear and now.  I've struggled to be present because I live in a city who is always looking 6 months in advance.  For example I know that I will be sporting a lovely burnt orange scarf with my leather "moto" jacket this fall.  Cannot wait!

So, dear readers i charge you to take a breath, be still and feel what you feel WHEN you feel it.  NOW! and now and now and now.  Who knows what treasures we'll find?

xo

~Mel

All you need is...

Fill in the blank dear reader.  That dastardly fellow cupid is winging it's way to it's glory day.  Fast approaching is the day of chocolate, over priced roses and trinkets be-speckled with the charms and baubles of loves trappings.  You may think this a rant about the commercialism and hype of V Day but you would be wrong.

Years ago I wore black, sent sympathy cards and burned candles under the angry moon and generally raged against the idea of this little bump in the February road.  I'm a reformed rager friends,  I love Valentines Day.  Is it because I have hunk-a hunk-a burning man meat roasting on my romantic spit?  No, it's because I embrace the very idea of love in this crazy world.  I've been a closet romantic for years.  I secretly wished for a hollywood landscape strewn with petals and bubbles and shiny objet galore.  My musical score chock full of giant Bruckner-esque chords of hope and swelling amorous rises in pitch and intent.  Gone With The Wind "fabulous" has nothing on my inner romantic dreamscape.

I'm coming out.  Yep, if Jodie Foster can do it, so can I.  I'm coming out as a hopeless romantic who relishes those that I love and adore.  Yes, I do have heart shaped chocolate in my possession, yes I did hand make wrapping paper for my Valentine's day gifts, and yes, I am planning on wearing at least one item of clothing on Thursday that has a heart on it.

Romance is in the air and I'm lucky to have love in my life.  Most especially my love OF life.  I'm wrapping up all this heart felt diatribe and giving it to myself.  I'm so grateful for my existence.  I'm exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up.  So self, you will be receiving some amazing things on Thursday, the least of which is a hand crafted confection of your choosing.  As for the rest of you lovelies, you know who you are, yes, you can have a cookie or two.  For I love you and celebrate my time with your countenance.  See you Thursday.  I'll be the one glowing with love of oneself and of those around me.

Love,
~Mel

Plugging In

There is a strange part of my lifestyle that many opera singers do not talk about.  It is the mysterious, daunting, and sometimes maddening....DOWN time!  I've been truly blessed with the work I've had over the years.  My calendar is often full and I thrive off of challenges and busy schedules.  I love working hard and when I am in the midst I am at my most happy.  When I am not working, I'm often learning music, doing laundry and trying to find the social life I once had.  Now, is such a time.  Oh, I have projects I can work on.  I have many recitals this season and am learning new music for all of them... excellent.  But can one really translate and sing Brahms for 10 hours a day?  Maybe a better woman than I.

I've had the amazing opportunity to actually TAKE a vacation this August.  I visited friends in New Orleans and had such a fine time.  I spent hours by the pool, drinking fruity drinks, laughing and basking in the south that i so adore.  Honestly, why don't I live in the South?  It's where I feel most comfortable and at ease. I've been on this side of the country for 20 years.  I can hardly read the words and believe them.  Honestly, I'm such a restless soul that anywhere I put down roots my itchy feet demand that I explore and travel this big blue marble.

One thing that I have noticed since my life has evolved is that I am an isolator and a bit of a loner.  I LOVE people.  I love my friends and family but there always seems a point when I need to be alone.  I'm like Mom in that respect.  She loved her circle but sometimes was most at home in her garden or on the back porch watching her beloved birds.  She was so lucky to have found my Father early in her life and he understood this facet of her.  Sadly, I don't have that luxury.  When I'm alone, I'm alone and there are times where I wonder where the vivacious and social animal of my past went?  Am I becoming agoraphobic?  Am I simply a homebody who can spend hours reading, singing and clearing out the closet that seems to expand with each passing day.  I realized that I know thousands of people but am close to few.  My schedule is often so hectic that I've missed countless drink invites, dinner requests and parties over the years.  For this I feel horrible.  And so dear friends I'm offering a hearty apology.  I want to be present in my life.  I'm really working on this.  It's easy for me to become so involved in a project that I shutter the doors and only emerge, suitcase in hand, jetting off to a new adventure and new friends.

Well, I'm making a pledge to plug back in and enjoy my life.

A pain that I am used to

Hello from Tulsa Blogosphere!!!  I'm writing you on the very eve of my opening of Gypsy.  It has been a rollicking and active last few months and I apologize for letting my blog lapse.  The title of this blog entry refers to a song from one of my favorite bands of all times.  Honestly I could start a new blog based entirely on my teenage like frenzy I have for them.  Those that know me well know this band is the magnificent Depeche Mode.  Yes, I know, still.....I hear some groans from old classmates, but yes, they are my favorite and I'm stand behind every synthesized pop, squeak and wail they grace me with.

I'm here in Tulsa to sing Momma Rose for the first, and hopefully not last time.  It has been a journey filled with angsty late night chats, sweaty rehearsals, sore feet and vocal gymnastics of the baritone variety.  Who did he write this for anyway?  Sherrril Milnes????  But I digress, this process has helped me on my grief journey is a really unexpected way.  Let me tell you folks, being called "Momma" five thousand times a day kind of takes the sting out of cringing every time the word is spoken.  It's like sensory overload.  Momma this Momma that....it is endless.  Even I call myself Momma about ten thousand times during the show.  So I'm hear to tell ya, if you ever need to get over something  just do it a million times and the pain will fade away.

I've spoken before about wanting to talk to Mom, wanting to dream about her and even see her again.  There have been points in this process that I've picked up the phone to call her.  I do that on just about every show. There is always that precarious day when I know that I can't do this. That I'm not getting it.  That I'm simply not the right person for the job.  Mom and Dad both have listened to me rant and rave about these little doubts my entire life.  They both always listen and let me talk my way back to knowing that I can do anything I set my mind too.  I've started talking to Mom more.  I know she is listening.  There was a wonderful movie with Robin Williams called What Dreams May Come.  It dealt with the issue of loss in a unique and beautiful way.  In one scene Williams, who had passed away, comes back to find his widow despondent.  Every time he tried to be near her or talk to her the pain of his presence was so great she would crumble. The pain was too fresh and present. I think about this often as I can now talk about Mom without always tearing up, I can smell her perfume and think of the happy times and I can now openly and proudly speak  to her about my joys and sorrows.  The pain of losing her is still with me but I'm growing used to it.  Time has allowed me to feel her near me again.  That is a wonderful gift that I am so grateful for.

Well, on to trod the boards in Tulsa.  I've heard every thing's coming up roses.....we shall just have to wait and see.

xo

~Mel

The magic of rainbows

Hello dear readers,

I know it's been quite a while since I have put finger to keypad but life rollicks along at an unrelenting pace at times.  The pace has been a good one.  Lots of work and family time have filled my coffers and I am so grateful for the opportunities afforded me.  Honestly, I purposely stayed away from the blog at the holidays because I just couldn't handle writing about the first Thanksgiving...the first Christmas....first this first that...since my Mom left our world.  It seemed morbid and quite frankly I wasn't strong enough to share my feelings and experiences.

Now it comes down to the biggest "first of all".  A Herculean hurtle of a day that has me at one moment staring off into the distance and at another frantically tackling a long laundry list of to do's.  It has been raining for two days here in New York.  Persistent gentle rain accompanied by fog and an opaque gray sky.  I awoke this morning to a gentle breeze and a dense haze rising off of the Hudson River.  It is almost 60 degrees here and the warm rain hitting the icy waters has created a giant halloween cauldron out of the river.  It was quite the site.  I watched with disbelief as wave upon wave of fog rose and billowed away.  It felt as if the fog would never lift and the clouds were a permanent fixture in my little upstate manhattan world.  Grey feeling joined Mother nature and I retreated to my bed where I have been nursing an out back for the last few days.  I had planned a long day of activites for myself.  Manicure/ Pedicure, movie and shopping, a museum stop and a trip to the Chelsea flower market all to celebrate my Mother's love of beautiful things.  And yet, I sit here rooted to my leather club chair, sporting my uniform of yoga pants and tank top, scouring the on demand channels for distraction. My energy level is beyond low and although I've had coffee and sustenance I am lethargic and wanting.  Then the tiniest little spring breeze broke through my apartment. Yes, i said spring.  The low lying cement clouds seemed to shuffle off and a little peak of blue sky shone through the mire.  I glanced up to see the small forming of a rainbow on the horizon.

Such is life I suppose. At times so fogged in that even the possibility of a glimmer is beyond comprehension.  But the light always breaks through and signs are sent from Heaven to help us continue on and even relish and enjoy every moment of this precious life.  My Mother was such a light and she graced me today with a sign I will carry in my heart for the rest of my days.

I love you precious Momma.  I miss you every day but know that I carry you in the rainbow that is my life.

Dos Equis

What a roller coaster of a career I have chosen?  Honestly, would I have it any other way?  I have a feeling I'm not really a monorail kind of chick but there are times when one does like to take a break from the ups and downs and enjoy some personal time with the cotton candy vendor.

My last post reflected the process i was working through on my last production.  I'm here to gladly report that I am in fact.....Large..hell, X X Large( two 'Xs)...not the small I was so worried I would be.  The production of The Medium/Carmina Burana was very well received and it was a true pleasure to create such a magical and frightening world with my colleagues.  Everyone was on the same page, from the first day of  rehearsal and finding such a safe place to explore some very dark themes is cathartic and welcomed.  My Father traveled to see the production and saw it THREE times!  We had such a wonderful week together.  Think..CASINO!  Dad and I supported the economic growth of the Motor City with lots of slot machine pulls and even managed to walk away with a few pennies in our pocket.  I loved it!  After having him in the audience for 3 performances it was very difficult knowing he wasn't out there for the remaining three.  I could feel his energy from the crowd and his unwaivering support of me ranks up there with the great wall of China as one of the mighty wonders of the world.

My current project is Marriage of Figaro.  Marcellina is role I've played many times...9 to be precise.  I know this opera inside and out.  The Act 2 finale never fails to engender a musical stirring in me.  Not really from MY music,  but from the collection of perfect tones Mozart scattered on that parchment.  It is a miracle every time I hear it. It grounds me and gives me succor when my mind is racing to balancing issues in the sextet or what precisely WAS that cut in Act 4.  Living in the now, Mozart style.

I've been in Detroit for about 7 thousand weeks now.  My hotel room is lived in, my luggage is dusty and I'm overdosed on lean cuisines and string cheese. (That is about all my tiny bar fridge will hold). I've enjoyed this time of reflection.  There have been a few dark nights of the soul but that's life I suppose.  The oddest thing is my lack of sleep.  I simply cannot sleep in this hotel...at night.  I have resorted to Tylenol Pm and luckily most rehearsals start in the afternoon so I manage to fill ye olde sleep docket.  It's been strange.  My thoughts are always with Mom.  After 8 months I finally had a dream about her that wasn't a nightmare.  She was restored to full health and it was a normal spring day.  Nothing special occurred other than her being there. It was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time.  I feel her around me at this time.  I haven't  before, not like this.  When she died I had this ridiculous notion that she would just appear to me and assure me everything was wonderful.  That we would have this mortal coil bending relationship.  I was actually angry that she hasn't appeared.  It's irrational.  After all, she is busy! I can only imagine the activities she is organizing.  Not to mention the heavy duty guardian angel duties she is shouldering these days.  Still, I really appreciate that she made the time to spend with me in dreamland.  I look forward to our next foray.

Working on The Medium and feeling small....

As some of you may I know I'm currently in Detroit working on a wonderful production of The Medium.  This is a role that I have performed before but not for many years.  It seems it's a role for people in their 20's and those at the other end of the spectrum.  I hope I'm somewhere in the middle of that wide timeline.  Kind of like being a Medium in the midst of a small and a large.  The role is much different at this stage of the game and I admit to having some trepidation that a 23 year old just doesn't have.  That being said the range of colors and dramatic choices at my fingertips are astounding.  Truly it seems as if I've just blinked and am now here working on a piece that gave me my start in this business. It's shocking to me that I've come to this point so quickly.  I remember bringing my 23 year old experience to the role and now maturity and life experience has shaped my choices in such a different way.  It's such a joy to get to do a role multiple times. I'm a lucky woman.

This process is not without its bruises.  The subject matter of the show is harsh and the idea of contacting someone who has passed is a little too close to home these days.  I'm also concerned that I won't be able to portray her to  the fierceness that I want for the character.  I need grandness, subtlety, strength, weakness, vulnerability and ferocity all wrapped up into 60 minutes of range breaking singing.  It's a lot to ask of a person that quite frankly I don't know.  I'm different.  I work differently, I sleep differently and I view this process BEYOND differently.  I feel weak.  My core is crumbly and I can't seem to get enough air in my lungs at times.  The hours outside of rehearsal seem to be filled with study and angst and the strange feeling that I'm not good enough.  This is new territory for me.  If I've ever been anything in my life it's confident.  But this year pulled the rug out from under me and suddenly I look in the mirror and see someone who I simply do not know.

Ah such is the life.  All actors have these moments of self doubt and distraction.  I know this is a process and that I bring as much as I can to every rehearsal.  I know that in the end it will be a journey and a successful one.  But as much as we talk about the fortunate life I lead it is important to realize that I am only human and that the weight of this lifestyle can be stifling.  It's funny to think of a creative job being so confining.  When the soundtrack runs constantly and the worries of job security and reviews and image and God forbid art harkens at your hotel room door, the world can get very small.  I've sacrificed huge portions of my life to sit and rock in this hotel room. Paths aren't always smooth or straight.  It's time for me to get my 4x4 out and traverse this rocky terrain.  Perhaps a dip in the pool will shock the system.

At the end of the day, life goes on, in a mostly joyous fashion. I look forward to reaching a little oasis, sometime soon.

~M

Wake UP!

Political rants can be a bore.  No one is lulled into a coma of indifference and apathy faster than I am at the sound of talking heads wagging their jaws endlessly.  If political meanderings were colored in the air not one of us would be able to see past their own noses in the morass.  That being said, I'm greatly saddened by the turn our system is taking.  Not in the obvious way, such as the inane debates recently littering our airwaves.  Seriously, Jersey Shore boasts a higher intellectual slant than a few of the slams and whimpers from those behind the podium in recent times.  I'm not speaking in party terms.  Truly there is idiocy on both sides of the political zoo.  The donkeys are stubborn and the elephants always seem to forget come promise time.

My current outrage isn't about such trivial matters.  I just read a story about a woman who was handcuffed to her bed during childbirth.  She begged for release of just one hand, to no avail.  This woman's crime?  She was driving without a license oh, and she was also an undocumented immigrant.  Needless to say she wasn't from Sweden or Switzerland.  Somehow I don't see Arizona police chaining an expectant Elsa or Brigitta to their prison beds.  My ire isn't simply for obvious reasons.  We should all be furious over how things like this can happen.  It's that the men and women involved in this have become so desensitized to this behavior that they see nothing wrong with it.

Atrocities happen every day.  For an eternity they have happened.  From potato famines to inquisitions to witch trials, our history is laden with black dark days.  YEARS and YEARS of dark days.  WHY haven't we learned from these days?  In the before times people died from a cold.  It took weeks to cross the ocean.  Childbirth was a game of russian roulette.  The multitudes could not read not write.  We have overcome such hurtles.  I can talk with someone around the world face to face on my computer. I have a device thinner than a school boys notebook that can give me every drip and drabble of information on any subject imaginable.  Yet we insist of fighting our evolution.

I'm calling for a halt to technology, at least until we spend some time on our internal wiring.  Stop the presses and the processors.  Start the long journey of finding out what it is so deeply buried in us that has deadened compassion and reason.  Let's start an art factory, a music note monopoly and a written word whirlwind.  Surely with all of our gadgets and luxuries something can be built to add gentility into our flat screened, DVR-d and googled hearts.  I know the idea is revolutionary but so was the telephone, or the airplane or BOOKS!

Wake up people.  I'm tired of sleeping.  I'm tired of wading through the mire of an existence dictated to me by 24 hour news stations and production valued entertainment.  I'm going rogue and am going to find the source of my apathy and malaise when it comes to matters of my humanity.  I would suggest you join me.  The ride will be endlessly entertaining and enlightening and in my case with lots of Tristan and Isolde playing in the background.  Come on, that music stirs my soul.  Sad that a prick like Wagner understood the beauty in this world better than I do at this moment.  What stirs yours?  I want to know.  Baby steps revolutionaries...baby steps.  We don't want to alert the media....or do we?

~M

Remembrance

We all know what day this is.  It's a solemn reminder of the lives and freedoms lost in an instant that beautiful September morning.  We all have our "where were you when the towers fell remembrance."  Mine is one I am truly grateful for.  I had just returned from a gig and got a wild hair to visit El Paso for a few weeks until it was time to gig again.  I was awoken the morning of September 11th by my Father, telling me a plane had just hit the world trade center.  It was very early in the morning. El Paso is 2 hours behind New York.  I sat on the edge of my parents bed in fear and horror as the drama played out.  I don't believe I've ever felt so helpless.  Ron was singing in Albuquerque at the time and was safely out of the city.  But I had many close friends that were in and around the WTC when the attack happened.  Of course there was no way to reach anyone as all phone service was jammed for what seemed like 100 years that morning.  My Father went to work and Mom and I sat all day watching the coverage.  The phone rang off the hook as family members and friends were calling to make sure I was ok.  My Grandmother didn't recognize my voice when I answered the phone and was in a panic to know if I lived anywhere near the site.

I was grounded in El Paso for more than a week before the flights were back up and running.  El Paso has a huge army base and is considered a target so as soon as the airport would open it would immediately close.  Mom and I watched 10 thousand hours of coverage and I remember at one point forcing us to leave the house so that we could just get away from it for a while.   Mom drove me to the airport when the flights were finally open.  She had tears in her eyes and told me that I didn't have to go back, ever, if I didn't want too.  She advised me to keep my important papers together and to always have some cash on hand.  It was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do leaving her there at the airport.  My flight to Dallas was quite full but my flight to NYC only had 6 people on it and one of them was an air marshall.  They moved all of us to first class and we rode in silence all the way to the city.  La Guardia was a ghost town.  A long line of idling taxis snaked its way down the terminal.  I walked to the head of the line and was greeted by a man who, before I could utter one word, assured me he wasn't a terrorist.  I got home in 13 minutes.  The smoke and the fire from the towers was billowing across the island and I could smell it all the way up in my neighborhood.  I still can recall that stench.

Ron had made it home the day before and the following morning we headed to Broadway to support the arts.  There were many people in time square but it was eerily quiet, save for the resonant sound of " WANTED OSAMA DEAD or alive" t-shirt salesmen.  We saw a show and headed home to start the journey of healing.  It's been a long road.  One strewn with way to many lives, lost and damaged.

I am a proud American.  I believe in this country.  I support our government and pray for our troops daily.  But as I look at these ten years lost I know that my civil liberties and day to day freedoms have been limited by the act of those few hate filled men.  I've been openly groped by a machine carrying armed guard, October 2001 before any guidelines for such things had been established.  I've been at the mercy of the MTA when threats and fear set in.  I refused to open a fed ex package that I was unaware of during the anthrax scare.  I bought shower curtains and duct tape to ward off the chemical attack that was reported by our New York City governors.  I supported shows when people were scared and bought useless earring when I knew my local businesses were suffering.  I wept at the seemingly thousands of flyers put up by hopeful family members and friends.

In many ways, they won.  We are recorded and prodded and corralled in a way that has given rise to paranoia, hate and baseline fear.  We have pointed fingers and argued and hidden behind the terror that was that day.  We should have grown as a nation from this tragedy.  Great things are forged in the fire of hardship and strife.  I feel we have emerged from that fire singed and jaded without a clear vision of who we are as a nation.  How can we even begin to have a conversation about who should marry whom when we have come through this ordeal?  Who has any right to tell me what I can or cannot do with my body when thousands of people were attacked simply because we enjoy these freedoms.  In this time of political turmoil it seems insensitive and frivolous to discuss such inane issues with any sort of seriousness.  How many soldiers have died protecting us?  I think we could have the common courtesy to dismiss such non issues in favor of seeking a way to make life in this great country better.  We aren't here to suffer through hours of debates and pages of bills that, in the end, achieve nothing.  Most of us just want to be happy and spend time with those we love. We want to worship and dance and grow our families in a society that has it's eye on the prize.  Peace.  I challenge our great nation to simply put down the blind ambition and think for one damn second about the people that sign their checks.  Don't tell me what to eat, who to worship, who to sleep with or what to do with my body.  Protect me, help me provide for myself and my family and let me enjoy the sounds of freedom that sing from a land that is truly evolving into a new way of doing things.

I am raw from this day.  But I am a optimist.  We are the hope and future of this land. It is up to us to let those that would harm us know that this is unacceptable.  Even if those slings and arrows are deemed friendly fire.

Tale of two teeth...(well, actually three)

Summer just seems to be flying by.  I know most of us are under the "ring of fire" heat that the weathermen keep preaching about.  I grew up in El Paso, Tx and 100 plus temps are not new to me.  I can complain about the heat with the best of them but secretly I adore shorts and flip flop weather.  I know when to stay out of the sun and when to venture into the magical wonder that is a warm summer twighlight.  I've had the great joy to be spending the past few weeks with my Father and Sister in El Paso.  The weather has been amazing and we've even had some bombastic boomers to keep up cool in the evening.  Lightning in West Texas is not to be missed.  One of the purposes of this visit was to help Dad with a few chores around the casa.  There are approximately 317 closets in this beast and every single one of them is chock full of priceless treasures.  My Mother liked pretty things, so did her Mother and her Mother and her Mother all the way back to Mother Eve creating her first table scape.  I am no different.  I adore having things around me that engender a warm memory or two.  That being said, I live in a Manhattan apartment and space just isn't what it is here on the Parks closet ranch.  So, purging must occur.  We have already done quite a bit but it seems those little bugger multiply every time you turn your back.  Anyone need a copper silent butler? How about an egg stand?  What exactly do you DO with 4 sets of toast tongs?  It's a quandary, my lovelies, and Pam and I were up to the challenge this week.  We also had the help of our dear friend Jan Morris to keep us on the track to purgeville. 

In our wanderings we came across a mysterious find indeed.  3 gold teeth.  Yes, the teeth were attached and no, we have no idea whose teeth these were.  Maybe Mom ran a side business and someone didn't pay up?  After all, someone had to pay for those toast tongs.  At any rate, Pam and I decided we would try to sell them to one of those cash for gold places.  We thought it would be a kick and diligently researched where to go.  We couldn't very well walk into our family jeweler and say..oh by the way we found these teeth!  Quite a dilemma indeed.  So we found a place on our side of town and set off to make our fortune.  We entered this lovely shop and were greeted by an affable fellow.  He smiled when we showed him the teeth but admitted that he had no idea what to do with them.  We we told him we had gold teeth I think he was thinking along the P Diddy grill line.  Little did he know that we were bringing him our ancestral teeth to sell.  Then from the very back of the shop i hear: "Melissa Parks??!!!!".  I'd be lying if I didn't look behind me hoping that another Melissa Parks was strutting through the door but alas, no, she was calling to me.  Turns out one of my high school friends works at this shop and recognized me.  We are face book friends and I must say the years have been very kind to her.  She looks amazing!  We caught up and she informed me that her brother would take a crack at the teeth on Tuesday when he is in.  She could NOT have been nicer.

So dear friends, beware.  When trying to sell your ancestral teeth on the down low know that someone from your past will recognize you and call you by name!  Melissa Parks...famous opera singer...blogger extraordinaire and procurer of gold teeth.  That's going on the special skills portion of my resume, STAT!!!

By the way, if anyone wants to buy some toast tongs, votive candle holders from every holiday imaginable and some gold teeth......"Have I got a deal for you..."

Love and light,

~Mel aka gold teeth dealer

Birthday Bashing!

Well, today is my natal day and in some ways it is my first.  The obvious, of course, is the first without my Mother and the less obvious is the first without the self judging that comes with celebratory times.  I'm from the south, specifically Texas.  As a proud Texan I can indeed say that everything does indeed come bigger in Texas.  My people like to eat and celebrate with food and I'm all for it 100 percent.  This year, I will eat that cake with a side of cake and then wash it down with some sort of cake type adult beverage without blinking an eye.  It's my birthday and I will CAKE OD if I want too!!!

Now, let me tell you about my birthday present to myself.  Besides that whole self actualized, I'm in tune with the universe and am trying to love every inch of my body gift, I decided on a special treat for me. I ventured to the mysterious land to the east known as Queens. It was a safari rife with stop lights, minivan hijinx and street sign disasters.  Why can't the people of Queens name their streets something original?  I mean really do I need to make a left onto 9th avenue only to make a right on 9th street and then double back to 9th road to end up at 9th court?  It is  a wild and wooly place this Queens but we navigated quite beautifully.  My destination was a true oasis in this navigational nightmare, a Korean Spa.  I have been to this spa before several times.  It is a bit pricey so attending every day would break the bank but when the Korean sirens call I head their sweet song and wind my way down the pot hole ridden path that is the grand central parkway.

For those that haven't attended a Korean spa before let me set the scene.  It is a HUGE 5 story building replete with out door roof top pools and swim up ice cream bar.  When you check in you are given a wristlet with a number on it.  The magic bracelet also includes a computer chip that opens your lockers and allows you to purchase extra services and food and drinks throughout the kingdom.  The first floor is separated into male and female locker rooms and private tub rooms.  The first tiny locker you encounter is for your shoes.  They are locked away until the end of your journey.  I meandered the corridors of this spa for about 10 hours yesterday and had not one speck of dirt on my feet.  The next locker is for your belongings. You are also issued a uniform upon entry, shorts and a tee shirt with the spa logo on them, and a new toothbrush.  The women's spa is filled with showers, cleaning stations, steam room, hot sauna and about 7 different pools with varying jets, temperatures, and mineral content.  The pools are for nude bathing only and the entire first floor is a clothing optional situation.  Needless to say I saw a lot of naked people yesterday.  I'm fascinated by the different body types and postures of the people.  Some are so care free and others wear the cloak of self doubt.  I have been through this process before and could care less about my nude self.  I got over that hurtle a long time ago.  I know it is a foreign thing for most Americans to get nude and soak in a tub with strangers but it really is a graceful and peaceful experience that is so enjoyable.  The remaining levels are chock full of dry saunas, massage rooms, sleeping rooms, mani pedi stations, food court and comfy places to lounge.

My birthday present to myself was to purchase a body scrub with massage.  I have had this process done before and it will blow your mind!  You are put on a long table and this little woman with scrub gloves and soap scrapes every last inch of your body.  Your skin simply glows from the treatment and it is invigorating and relaxing at the same time.  My special treat to myself was to pay the extra for the private room.  The usual scrubs take place in a corner of the tub room and while not in the center of the room you are hanging all our there for everyones perusal.  I've done it before this way and after the initial shock of feeling like a corpse on a Quincy M.E. medical table I was able to enjoy it.  But yesterday I longed for a little peace and quiet and booked a private room.  I entered the space and was greeted by my scrubber.   A lovely lady who probably weighed about 80 pounds soaking wet.  I know the ferocity of these scrubber women so I didn't doubt her acumen.  Just to jolt you from your modesty bubble they start you face up.  She pour copious amounts of delightfully warm water over you to start and then the process begins.  Its a wonderful feeling.  It sounds a bit brutal but it's not.  It's like a loofa for the body and it wakes up tired nerve endings and refreshes the mind.  After about an hour a scrub down 2011 she rinsed me and began the massage portion of the treatment.  First she grated an entire chilled cucumber and placed it on my face for a cleansing mask.  Delightful.  Then came the lavender jojoba warm oil. When I arose from the table I felt like a prize fighter, loose and oiled up, ready for action.

This process for important for a few reasons.  Firstly, the obvious.  NEW SKIN!  Glowing, soft, supple new skin to start my new year.  Secondly, new skin.  A ritual cleansing of the negative, gut wrenching, painful year that was 2010.  I'm of the mind that the negative seethes on the top layers of your being blocking good energy and reminding you of the hardships you endured.  While positive, loving experiences melt into your bones, strengthening you at every turn.  I exfoliated a layer of grief in Queens yesterday and simply emboldened myself to start my wellness journey of this next year.

After my scrub and massage of LIFE, I ventured back into the locker room to prepare for my next spa adventure when I over heard a young girl confiding in her friend her trepidation about going commando for the womens tubs.  She bemoaned the fact that she hated her body and that she didn't want the other women judging her.  I made a side ways glance to see this woman expecting to find a woman of size that perhaps I could help in some way.  She was a little slip of a thing with a model perfect form.  It broke my heart.  All I could do was walk passed her and let her know that people of all shapes and sizes are beautiful and to only care about what YOU think.  I hope my presence did just that but she has set up for herself a life time carnival ride of body image issues if she doesn't nip it in the bud.  I know! I had buckets of tickets for that sad carnival and have only recently told those carnies to pack up and move on out!!!

So, on this birthday of mine I am literally a new person, skin and all.  I look forward to my next adventure and know I've got a secret 80 pound weapon in far off Queens to help me reinvent myself when need be. Have a blessed day my dear friends.  You are the best birthday present this glowing girl could ever wish for.

Love,

~Mel

The world is too small for me

Hello blogoshere!

Sorry it has been a while since my last missive.  I've been one busy camper these past few weeks.  I had a wonderful time performing with the New York Philharmonic a few weeks ago.  The best part was that my Father got to hear me sing at Lincoln Center.  And not just sing...DANCE.  Yes, I made my NY dance debut.  It was a tricky little concoction I like to call simply: The Owl Dance.  Yes, it was magical and the Bolshoi has been trying to contract me for a few weeks now.  I told them they needed to sweeten the deal with money and borscht endorsement deals so we'll see how that works out.  I don't dance for just anyone.

The piece I performed was A Cunning Little Vixen.  A magical fairy tale of a story that features the Phil in such a special and awe inspiring way.  I found myself teary eyed as I watched Alan Gilbert conduct them to perfection right before my first entrance.  Moments like these are so few and far between and when the genuine joy of music invades the air miracles can happen.  It sounds like an overstatement but every musical turn served as a little salve to my tied up heart.  I really enjoyed this gig.  I was allowed to be funny and interact with my fellow characters in a fun and frivolous way.  Unlike last year where I prayed at every entrance, died twice and beat up my husband with a hot poker.  Not to say I didn't enjoy every minute of that but it was just a different vibe.  A much needed change of pace.

I'm off now for a couple of months.  My next big project is The Medium with Michigan Opera Theatre.  I love that company and know it will be a safe haven to recreate a role I performed when I was much younger.  I look forward to having the vocal acumen to give the piece it's due course.  I have colors and capacity now that I didn't have at 23.  It will be a treat to work on it.  I start work, in earnest, on it next week.  This week has been for R and R and reconnection.

I do find myself feeling Mom around me at this time.  I'm lonely for her and am dumfounded that it has been only 5 months since her passing.  It actually hurts worse now for some reason.  Fresh wounds have an urgency to them stays on the surface while deep hurt pulsates with a nagging consistency. It's all part of the journey I suppose.  I'm so tired of this trip I need a vacation from it.  My musical forays serve as a kind respite but I carry with me the scars of the past year.  They have informed my artistic choices though and the results are a grounded artistry that I have strived for.  I'm not quite there yet but I know more about myself now than I ever did.  I find my energy level for non essential activities is waning this week.  I have friends to see, dates to go on and laughter to seek and yet all I want is to be with my Mom. And for now that means sitting quietly and recalling every little detail of her.  It seems I have her arms.  Hers were much more toned but the shape is the same.  Why didn't I notice this years ago?  Someone once told me that one day she put her hand through the sleeve of her shirt and her Mother's hand came out of the cuff. It seemed to happen over night.  I am my Mother's daughter and am dealing with this loss with the skills she gave to me.

Operation Flashy Jacket is still on but at a bit of a standstill.  I've been dieting for 5 thousand years and I am tired of it.  I'm tired of being made to feel the villain.  The O word is pervasive and it is used to shame and belittle people of size into buying products to keep them on the roller coaster.  I cannot watch or support one more extreme loser makeover swan TLC half hour cry fest.  So, I've made the decision to stop.  I'm not going to buy diet food or watch any such program. I won't be buying motivational DVD's that tell me that I'm unhappy and the only way I will ever be happy is to listen to their rational.  I'm not going participate in the hate mongering that is the diet industry.  Let me tell you what I AM going to do. I'm gong to eat healthfully and joyfully.  I'm going to move and groove to my own rhythm.  I'm going to stretch and smile and laugh and sweat.  I'm going to get off this crazy capitalistic treadmill.  I'm not going to buy into the fashion industry that tells me what I can and cannot wear.  I'm going sleeveless and short skirted.  Finally, I'm just going to stop.  Stop hating my body.  Stop equating my success in this society with number on a scale or a dress tag.

Strange...I feel lighter already.  Nothing like losing three thousand pounds of self hatred in one fell swoop.


~Mel

The Rapture, Ronnie and Revelations....

I am hear to announce that I am firmly ensconced back into my New York apartment.  Well, maybe not firmly as my room kind of looks like world war three hit it and the mountain that is my suitcase is set at a jaunty angle right in the middle of the floor, of course.  Ahhh it's good to be home.  I had a wonderful time in Salt Lake City.  It was a journey of many different emotions and revelations, but I'll come to that in a minute.

Firstly, let's just touch on the Rapture. Yes, I am still here.  I know there were a few rumors circulating about my "poofing" into the ether but they are false claims dear friends.  I was in SLC on doomsday.  Saturday was a glorious day, one of the few in my last few weeks  there.  70 degrees and sun shining down on the snow covered mountains.  The show Friday night was well received and recorded for a future broadcast, I'll be sure to let you know when it's streaming.  After the show I had the oddest need to just return to my hotel and spend some time alone.  This cast was very social and I really loved and needed that interaction.  But on this night, the eve of the beginning of the end I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.  I'm a spiritual person.  I was raised in the Methodist church and happily have continue my relationship with God.  In every dark corner and bright spot light that is my journey I know I'm not without his good company.  By church standards I'm every bit a heathen and I know my mezzo self would not have been evaporated at 6pm on Saturday.  But, I don't live by the rules of man, I'm governed by my God who lives in my heart and guides me from day to day.  I know this end of the world hullabaloo was a huge marketing campaign and obviously has backfired a bit for those that proclaimed it.  I will admit that this event did make me think.  I took the time to sit on my rainy balcony and pray and commune with my spiritual father.  These 4 weeks have been filled with more than one tear and fall in your bed at night exhaustive episodes.  I had a bout of insomnia and dealt with my out of shape legs as I forced myself to walk the park everyday so I could march up and down those stairs in a 25 pound costume.  Friday night allowed me the time to say a quiet thank you to the forces at work that made it possible for me to be successful on this job.  In the end I suppose the rapture rampage did do it's job, It made me think and be still and quiet with my God.

Let's move on to my second "R" or as I will loving call it: Why it's so important that my Dad came to see me on this gig.  Dad arrived on the Monday of our 2nd performance.  I had the great joy of having him in the audience for not one but TWO performances.  With Mom's illness in the past few years they had not been able to travel as much as they would have wanted.  They were able to make it to Seattle a few years ago and I will count that among one of my most favorite trips with them.  When I was in college I was cast in a production of Tartuffe.  My Father was so excited about me returning to a straight play he made the special effort to fly in for the weekend to see me perform.  He came alone and left Pam and Mom in El Paso.  I remember hearing him laugh during my entrances and clap the loudest when I took my bow.  I also remember him making scrambled eggs and bacon at my apartment for a few members of the cast after the show.  It was one of many bonding experiences I've had with my Dad surrounding the theatre and his undying devotion and love of it.  We also shared the bond of caring for my Mom during some of her most trying times.  Dad spent the week with me in Salt Lake and it was so wonderful to have him there.  The time was easy and relaxing and a great touchstone for both of us.  I haven't seen him in a couple of months and this trip served as a good temperature gage to our progress on this foreign grief journey.  it was a relaxed and easy time filled with laughs and a few tears.  I love my Dad and friday night during the performance I felt a hole in the theatre where he should have been.

Lastly, every gig brings one or two revelations.  This one was no different.  I was quite shocked at how much energy it took me somedays to just make it to rehearsal.  I've done this role many times and it truly is my favorite opera.  It is a privilege to undertake Verdi's masterpiece day after day.  My head knows all these things but my heart sometimes ached for the Melissa that was pre Mom illness.  I suffered through Easter and Mother's day on this gig.  Not only Mother's day but Mother's day on steroids in Utah where Mothers are so revered.  I chose to spend this day alone and not speak to anyone.  I had many messages and even a beautiful rose plant from my sister friend Sherry to cheer me.  All of these made for an easier time of it.  One the day though, as I hunkered down in bed with my Marriot breakfast , drapes drawn and movies streaming I heard the cry of the Mother's day parade happening RIGHT OUTSIDE MY HOTEL ROOM.  It was a true, "why me" moment until I had to laugh.  I executed this day down to the comfort food I had stockpiled for later in the day and here is the universe sending me the signal that life does go on and hiding behind heavy hotel black out curtains is not always the answer.  So, I threw the curtains open and ambled out to the balcony in my pj's and biscuits and gravy and allowed the joy of the Mother's day to wash over me.  I celebrated my Mother in the only way I was able that day.  I laughed, I cried and I was as authentic a person I could possibly be.  Pj's and smiles, just like Mom would have wanted.

~Mel

PS. It seems as if we have until October to get our spiritual house in order.  Whew, I better get to cleaning!!!!