Oh Happy Chaos!

I am exhausted.  Nursery duty today at All Angels.  11 kids, two adults, two hours, and not enough A/C.   

Hats off to all parents everywhere.

My feet were immortalized in song today

Apparently I'm the tall white lady in the black dress with the pretty feet.  At least, that's what one subway entertainer dubbed me the minute I stepped onto the downtown 2/3 this morning.  I was on my way to Home Depot to buy my second (and hopefully final) air conditioning unit because it is FREAKING HOT in New York today people!  I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings because I was mesmerized watching this You Tube video of my dad playing Vanilla Rice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ybz_z-3o3lc&feature=channel

So, I stepped into the subway car, laughing at my Dad's dancing, when I hear, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I will now sing this next song for the tall white lady in the black dress.  I will sing it to this lady right here with the pretty feet.  Here we go."  And without further ado, he starts singing "I've got sunshine, on a cloudy day..." skips the rest of the verse and goes right into "I guess you'd say what can make me feel this way?  The tall white lady with the black dress and the pretty feet with the college degree."  He stops singing, looks right at me and says, "Honey, if you were my girl, we'd go back to my place and I'd serve you Kool-Aid.   We'd drink it out of mayonnaise jars."

And with that, he moved onto The Barney Song, sang a quick Feliz Navidad (which he pronounced Police Navidad), and then off he jumped to the 1 train. 

Guess I won't get that Kool Aid then.

Last Night at the Apollo

Brian scored some sweet tickets to Amateur Night at the Apollo, so at 7:30 last night we were seated at the historic theatre where the many notable entertainers, including Michael Jackson, Ella Fitzgerald and my fave Aretha Franklin got their start.  Ben Vereen was the host for the evening. 

I should back up and say the reason Brian scored the tickets was that his friend Darryl was competing in a show made up entirely of teachers from NYC schools.  And that the audience was primarily made up of their STUDENTS.

You may already know that the Apollo encourages audience participation-- if you like them, you clap.  If you don't, you boo, and a character/dancer/entertainer comes on and stops whoever is doing whatever and mocks them off-stage.   

Now, imagine the dynamic. High school teachers performing for high school students who have the power to boo them off-stage.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it was a blood bath.

A bluegrass band barely made it through its introduction.  Spoken word poets were seriously discouraged from even starting.   Tap dancers and a modern dance troop were summarily dismissed.   A woman came out and started singing Gershwin's 'Summertime' and I was fearful for her life.  She didn't even get through the first word before the whole place erupted in boos. 

The ones who did make it through were one absolutely amazing spoken word poet (I'd never seen good spoken word, and it is awesome!), one dance group that was so weird and strangely sexual that you just had to watch, an excellent saxophonist who had the strategic advantage of being able to drown everyone out by putting his sax to the microphone and saturating the audio sphere, a band who was ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE but sang  'Come to My Window' with such a piercing sound that you couldn't here anything for five minutes after, an old white guy who sang a bluesy song with references to drugs, sex and alcohol (which I guess made him cool), a girl who hoola-hooped (never seen it before: blacklight hoola-hooping), and Darryl.

Darryl is a young, smooth looking, immediately likable African American who sang 'Take it Slow' with a perfect touch.  Seriously, he was the only guy who walked on stage all night that I didn't brace myself for the terror to come-- he fit the venue, he chose music the kids knew and liked, his voice was amazing, and he knew how to perform.

And that's why he won.  At the end of the night, the audience cheers for who they want to win, and they wanted Darryl.  He now gets to compete for a chance at 10,000.  And I got to go home and listen to Bach.

Head Shots Here We Go

I've scheduled headshots with my new friend and amazing photographer Corey from church for the 13th.  Ironically, we're going to shoot on a Sunday instead of praising the Lord, but Corey says we should be done in time to go to the 5 o'clock.

I don't like getting my picture taken (Corey says most people don't).  And one has to prepare for said picture taking by engaging in two things I don't really like to do:  spending money and making definitive decisions about my appearance.  It's very vulnerable making.

Also, Corey really wanted to photograph me, partly because I look like I can really bring the heat-- intense, larger than life, putting it all out there Joanna.   Which I'm still trying to get comfortable with in my skin, and I always feel a bit silly about, even though I know a. It's why I'm attracted to opera in the first place and b. It's what will sell tickets to my shows, or what's going to get me hired.  I feel like I'm gonna fail, or look dumb.  But hey, it's just Corey, a camera, and me.  What's to fear?

So here we go--teeth whitening (the cheap kind), gym every day (why not), eyebrow waxing, clothes shopping, and trying to decide about makeup and hair. 

So, all my actor friends, you may be getting a phone call here pretty soon to talk strategy: clothes, hair, makeup and prices.  And, if you've got a funny story to share, I want to hear that too!

BBQs, dumpster diving and the pot smokers down the hall

Hello All!  I hope everyone had a lovely Memorial Day weekend.  I got to go bike riding in Central Park with Brian...

...where all the best of NYC frivolity and exhibitionism was on display, and went to a BBQ on Monday.  Saturday night I played the heroine at the Amore Opera company-- the Third Lady that was scheduled got sick, so I got called in at the last minute (well, 2 hours before curtain) to sing Third Lady in The Magic Flute.  After the show, I met up with Brian and his two friends to go hear The Renaldo The Ensemble-- quite a show.  If you're in NYC, we should go.

Today is back to singing and the mundanity of daily life.  Although it was fun to acquire two new pieces of furniture from the trash...

Paramount is shooting a movie up the street and their trucks are all over the place.  I confess, it made me a bit homesick for Los Angeles.

And finally, coming back into the building, I ran into the residential pot smoker.  The common hallways of my 7 floor apartment complex act as a chimney for all the fumage, so you can always tell when they're partying.  Good to finally put a face with the smell.  :D

On catcalls while walking down the street

As a female living in the heart of Harlem, there is no end to the male attention I receive.  That African American men can engage in this particular social interchange so easily, happily and habitually surprises me, since I have spent the majority of my adult life in circles where men barely make eye contact.  Talk about culture shock.

On my four block walk to the subway, I am chatted up, given random compliments, stared at, and, last week, 'offered' a 'part' in a movie.  As long as these overtures occur before sundown, I usually respond to all attempts with good-natured friendliness.

Guys who wish me a good day get a friendly good day back.  Men who offer me movie parts get a 'thank you for the compliment' and a goodbye wave.  Starers, my least favorite because they feel a little rude, get a brisk head-nod (I see what you are doing) or a curt hello (I'm not impressed).  It may be objectification, but I guess I'm not enough of a feminist to care.

Everyone knows that big city life can make a person feel small, invisible and lonely.  The skyscrapers alone are a lesson in humility.  Add in living shoulder to shoulder with the richest, most successful people in the world and your calibration of your own worth gets skewed.  Doesn't everyone want to be noticed, seen as valuable, worth knowing?   Is this one of the many small ways to combat invisibility, and put the lie to the insistent idea that one is not good/rich/pretty/important enough to talk to?

Did I just create a rationale for catcalls as an humanitarian good?  Oh dear.  Well, back to singing....

Living in the face of uncertainty without fear

I don't know if I have anything really profound to say on this subject, but I like the line.   I've been grappling with fear on a kind of low-grade basis for the past 24 hours, which is not surprising to me.  I have just come through a period of great activity and success, and now, after two days of recuperating, doing laundry and catching up on TV and netflix, the question stares me in the face: now what?  Which gets stretched into "what am I doing this for, anyway?" and "how much money do I have in my bank account?" and "wouldn't life be so much easier if I just got a REAL job?"  So I decided to do what I always should do when I feel that way-- go to the gym.

Working out seems to relieve, at least momentarily, a lot of the 'what am I doing again?' feelings that can accumulate in my bones and muscles and leaves me feeling less in my head and happy to be alive.  And it did.  And as an added bonus, while I was reading a magazine while going fast and high on the elliptical machine, this snippet from a sentence in an article caught my eye:  living in the face of uncertainty without fear. 

So that is my prayer and goal for this week-- that I can somehow walk, then jog, then run toward the next thing with joy in my heart, trusting God, enjoying life, and believing that God really can teach me to live so that the words of the Psalmist are a living reality:  I will fear NO evil, for You are with me.