This haunted face holds no horror for me now.
It's in your soul that the true distortion lies.

I don't know what it is, but the Universe does not want me to be in Phantom of the Opera. I try. I really do. I've had amazing auditions, and not-so-amazing auditions. I've wanted it for sixteen years. Sixteen years! I've sung it, I've dressed it, I've lived it. I've even been in the stupid Kopit/Yeston version...TWICE! Every few years, I get a chance for an audition when there's an open call in town. The one yesterday was for a 90-minute Las Vegas production, which sounds like living hell, but I would have done it if they'd cast me. I would have done it because it's a Life Goal that I just can't seem to complete. I've even bargained it down in my head to one performance. I could do one performance of it and feel satisfied.

I was really prepared for yesterday. I've been singing quite a bit. My voice is in pretty good shape. I'm more happy and secure in myself as a person, and understand better what kind of personae I project in auditions. Here, I'll interject to say that I'd been out the night before with Tifanie, Sam, Mary, and Aaron seeing Gorey Stories at the Sacred Fools theatre (which was absolutely FANTASTIC, I mean WONDERFUL, and you MUST MUST see it). We were dressed up as the Addams Family and I was Morticia and David was Gomez and we were all so very cute. We went out to a Halloween party afterwards, and I stayed out a bit too late and talked a bit too loudly and lowly and I couldn't get to sleep. I shot part of my voice out.

Still, I got up at 7:30 and got my butt over to the Valley and expected to find a huge line (like there always is in New York). Instead there were two young girls there, eighteen years old, who had travelled just for this. They were little Shadow Adrianas from the past, still filled with hope and expectation and not knowing that they're too short or too tall or too fat or too skinny or too dark or too light or too wonderful or too dreadful. I cheered for them, because fuck, this is a hard life. The point of this is, I ended up auditioning very early, and my throat just wasn't ready for it. I didn't suck. I just...the magic wasn't there. I couldn't get it to do anything but sing, which is entirely different than Singing. I left the building and called David immediately and asked him if I can still be in the band.

Thank God, he said yes.

...and all I wanted to do was race home into the arms of my best friend and co-creator, because it all means SO MUCH MORE to me than any of this. So that's what I did.

The window on this Life Goal is rapidly closing, and I sort of just have to laugh at it. How could something so simple be so difficult? It really cracks me up. Some things just aren't meant to be, and are replaced by hopes and dreams that are so much better than a fifteen year old could ever possibly imagine.

Still, Christine will always be a part of me.


Sometimes we just can't have our goals! I have nothing profound to say about it. But, at least you seem willing to move past it if it isn't meant to be someday. And, we all love to listen to you in your band! (I remember seeing you in the version you did, though!)
Ma | 10.31.05 - 1:16 pm | #

I remember it as well.
Lisa | 10.31.05 - 8:24 pm | #

...and the Yeston/Kopit version doesn't suck THAT bad. I've done some great productions of it.

The Phantom's music is much better and much of Christine's is wonderful... except, you know, Melodie de Paris.

Okay, for everyone else involved it does suck.

...but "My Mother Bore Me" beats anything that ol' Webber Phantom sings by a mile.

And I don't have to tell you I totally identify with you on this. I have stories to share here.
DW | Homepage | 11.01.05 - 1:09 am | #

I'm sorry we kept you up late, lovely one. But it was sooooooooo good to see you. Please come up here soon...
tifanie | 11.01.05 - 8:51 am | #

By Blogger adriana, at Saturday, October 06, 2007 9:37:00 PM  

Post a Comment

Monday, October 31, 2005 : 11:03 AM     1 Comments  


Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?