Part of my new full-time job is convincing my mother that I won't starve from being a professional musician before I become Mrs. Maestro next October. I admit the thought of it is a little daunting, but possible nonetheless. The most notable change will be in the way I get paid. About the only thing that I'll miss about former-hateful-day-job-that-shall-remain-nameless is the income direct-deposited into my checking account every other Friday. Instead, I'll get paid in large chunks by contract for each gig I complete. I'll get some mad money to supplement that income from teaching private voice, and hopefully that will amount to about half of the green that I use to... you know... not starve. I just have to practice pacing my spending so that I can make those large chunks of cash last until the next one appears. And to survive, I just have to close a show every 4-6 weeks and teach between 20 and 30 hours a month.
So how close am I to making that happen?
Well, I already had existing contracts for gigs ending in December and January, so I have no worries until then. I've booked contracts for gigs ending in March, May, June, and July, so I'm out of the woods for 6 out of the 11 months before the Maestro makes an honest woman out of me. I'm working on a contract for a gig I really want for February and haven't quite figured April out yet. I'm continuing to hustle, and am about halfway there to not allowing my mother's worst fears come to life.
I'll keep you updated on how it goes.
Until then, I'll leave you with a video that reflects my daily sentiments...
Showing posts with label madre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madre. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Jazz...
...was not my first love.
...took me awhile to "get."
...has followed my personal taste and musical proclivities through more than half of my life.
...is something my mother and I share other than DNA.
...made me a better musician.
...makes me prouder to be an American than I would be otherwise.
...has seen me through breakups, make-ups, and the deaths of my father and great-grandmother.
...took me to France and Switzerland as a performer.
Jazz might not be my first love, but it definitely has proven to be one of my most profound. I consider myself beyond lucky to be able to spend a weekend surrounded by some of the best jazz artists in this country-- watching my heart grow larger by the minute for an art form I haven't yet lived enough life to fully grasp.
These people allowed me into their lives this past weekend:
--Bonnie Brammlett
--Kevin Mahogany
--Cyrus Chestnut
--Al Jarreau
...took me awhile to "get."
...has followed my personal taste and musical proclivities through more than half of my life.
...is something my mother and I share other than DNA.
...made me a better musician.
...makes me prouder to be an American than I would be otherwise.
...has seen me through breakups, make-ups, and the deaths of my father and great-grandmother.
...took me to France and Switzerland as a performer.
Jazz might not be my first love, but it definitely has proven to be one of my most profound. I consider myself beyond lucky to be able to spend a weekend surrounded by some of the best jazz artists in this country-- watching my heart grow larger by the minute for an art form I haven't yet lived enough life to fully grasp.
These people allowed me into their lives this past weekend:
--Bonnie Brammlett
--Kevin Mahogany
--Cyrus Chestnut
--Al Jarreau
Thursday, January 15, 2009
...a little pre-occupied
That's the only way to describe my state over the past few days. You see, Mama Downbeats loves her only child so very much that she called me on Monday and offered me and the Maestro tickets to the hottest party in town. That's right... the Maestro and I will be painting the District red, white, and blue with the Obamas and the Bidens and everyone else who's partying like it's January 20, 2009.
I wasn't planning on going anywhere close to D.C. at all next week. I told the production team I'm working with on my current project not to look for me at all next week because, well, Kensington was just too close to the inaugural festivities for me to even think about venturing there. Heck, Baltimore might be too close to the inaugural festivities, so I'm not even sure if I planned on leaving my house next week.
But then Mama Downbeats called me at work on Monday afternoon with the gift that keeps on giving: the opportunity to get fancy and possibly breathe the same air as our new President. So immediately all of those acrid thoughts I was thinking about D.C. next week flew out of my mind and I screamed YES, WE CAN [go down to Washington for an Inaugural Ball as long as we don't have to pay for it]. (Sorry, I couldn't resist)
At any rate, I have chosen a gown. I've asked the Maestro to wear tails. I've been Tweeting my progress and researching all of the possible methods to get down to that side of the world when they've closed all humankind off from any sort of ground transportation. I'll keep you all updated on how it goes.
And if anyone has any sort of insight as to how to get to the Convention Center on Tuesday night, please throw it my way.
I wasn't planning on going anywhere close to D.C. at all next week. I told the production team I'm working with on my current project not to look for me at all next week because, well, Kensington was just too close to the inaugural festivities for me to even think about venturing there. Heck, Baltimore might be too close to the inaugural festivities, so I'm not even sure if I planned on leaving my house next week.
But then Mama Downbeats called me at work on Monday afternoon with the gift that keeps on giving: the opportunity to get fancy and possibly breathe the same air as our new President. So immediately all of those acrid thoughts I was thinking about D.C. next week flew out of my mind and I screamed YES, WE CAN [go down to Washington for an Inaugural Ball as long as we don't have to pay for it]. (Sorry, I couldn't resist)
At any rate, I have chosen a gown. I've asked the Maestro to wear tails. I've been Tweeting my progress and researching all of the possible methods to get down to that side of the world when they've closed all humankind off from any sort of ground transportation. I'll keep you all updated on how it goes.
And if anyone has any sort of insight as to how to get to the Convention Center on Tuesday night, please throw it my way.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
A Brief Monologue from My Mother
Time: Yesterday
Madre Downbeats: Are you working today?
Me: Yes.
Madre Downbeats: Well, did you know it's Columbus Day?
Me: I did.
Madre Downbeats: The banks are closed.
Me: Yup, they sure are.
Madre Downbeats: I stopped by the bank, and I thought that my branch had closed down. It wasn't until I got to another branch that I realized that everything was closed yesterday.
God bless her... take her out of civil service for even a few years and she forgets all of those random Federal-ish holidays.
For me, Columbus Day was just a slap in the face. I didn't get any mail, couldn't go to the bank, but still had to go to work and cover three different jobs for yet another Jewish holiday.
Monday, August 4, 2008
My dear mother and her pronunciation problem
I have this mortal flaw where I correct people in all situations if I know they're wrong or inaccurate. They could be my peers, my elders, my boss, or a stranger on the street. It doesn't matter who it is, but if you misquote the starting and ending dates of the Civil War or identify the wrong actor in a movie, I'll just sidle up to you and throw in, "No, actually that was Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman.' I hate it, and wish I knew how to stop, because I feel like it makes my come off as a know-it-all. Really, I have never claimed to know it all. I simply have an inordinate amount of useless knowledge. It makes me great at trivia, slightly socially inept.
Now that you have that bit of useless knowledge that you never needed to know about me, I'm going to throw something else at you: As a singer, I had to learn phonetics in college to be able to sing songs and arias in foreign languages for which I was not fluent. I had to learn to sing in Italian, French, German, Spanish, Latin, Russian, Czech and all the while try to sound like a native speaker in all of those languages. As a result, I know how to say a lot of words in other languages even when I don't know what they mean.
My longest standing correction feud stands between my mother and I. She has been mispronouncing words since the beginning of time. And so should she. She's not in a field where people look at you like you have three heads if you put the wrong emphasis on the wrong syllable or screw up a vowel sound for a foreign word like I am. Still, she mispronounces words and names all the time, and I correct her... and then slap myself for correcting my mother once we're off the phone. But her brain doesn't operate in phonetics and my brain doesn't operate in decorating, so I guess we're even.
So at any rate, she called me on Saturday morning while I was in the office tying up some loose ends before heading down to the beach for summer oh-eight wedding number four. She was so excited because she had just made a new (to her) discovery at Whole Foods. Here's how that conversation went.
Mother: Sweetie! Have you ever heard of sha-moo-shoo? I just bought some at Whole Foods and it's the most amazing stuff that I've ever tasted!
Me: No... what is it?
Mother: It's like tuna... but it's raw. Well, it's not like tuna. It is tuna, but it's just not cooked.
Me: [thinking to myself] Shamooshoo. Shamooshoo. What on Earth could she be talking about? Raw tuna is tartare. How have I never heard of... OH. Poor thing. [out loud] Mother. You mean sashimi.
Mother: How do you say that? Shashoomoo?
Me: Sashimi. It's like sushi.
Mother: Shashimu.
Me: Sa-shi-mi.
Mother: Sha-shi-mi.
Me: [sigh] Close enough. I'm glad you like it.
God bless her. LOVE her. Long story short, my mother has discovered raw tuna and likes it.
Now that you have that bit of useless knowledge that you never needed to know about me, I'm going to throw something else at you: As a singer, I had to learn phonetics in college to be able to sing songs and arias in foreign languages for which I was not fluent. I had to learn to sing in Italian, French, German, Spanish, Latin, Russian, Czech and all the while try to sound like a native speaker in all of those languages. As a result, I know how to say a lot of words in other languages even when I don't know what they mean.
My longest standing correction feud stands between my mother and I. She has been mispronouncing words since the beginning of time. And so should she. She's not in a field where people look at you like you have three heads if you put the wrong emphasis on the wrong syllable or screw up a vowel sound for a foreign word like I am. Still, she mispronounces words and names all the time, and I correct her... and then slap myself for correcting my mother once we're off the phone. But her brain doesn't operate in phonetics and my brain doesn't operate in decorating, so I guess we're even.
So at any rate, she called me on Saturday morning while I was in the office tying up some loose ends before heading down to the beach for summer oh-eight wedding number four. She was so excited because she had just made a new (to her) discovery at Whole Foods. Here's how that conversation went.
Mother: Sweetie! Have you ever heard of sha-moo-shoo? I just bought some at Whole Foods and it's the most amazing stuff that I've ever tasted!
Me: No... what is it?
Mother: It's like tuna... but it's raw. Well, it's not like tuna. It is tuna, but it's just not cooked.
Me: [thinking to myself] Shamooshoo. Shamooshoo. What on Earth could she be talking about? Raw tuna is tartare. How have I never heard of... OH. Poor thing. [out loud] Mother. You mean sashimi.
Mother: How do you say that? Shashoomoo?
Me: Sashimi. It's like sushi.
Mother: Shashimu.
Me: Sa-shi-mi.
Mother: Sha-shi-mi.
Me: [sigh] Close enough. I'm glad you like it.
God bless her. LOVE her. Long story short, my mother has discovered raw tuna and likes it.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
A long overdue home improvement post
I've had my head spinning and my body going in five million different directions for the past week for tech, but not that we've opened, my life will slowly get back to normal, and hopefully the posts a little more regular.
As I mentioned before, my condo was kind of unapologetically out of control and un-lived-in, and I'd gotten tired of it. Last weekend, I had an unexpected day off from rehearsal, my mother was in town, and she helped me clean house and shop for the new place.
One of the first priorities for us was getting the porch in order. Some barn swallows have been nesting in my porch above the sprinkler head for three seasons in a row. While I love nature, the bird droppings and inability to sit out on my porch have gotten super-old. Not particularly wanting to rip a bird's nest down (don't worry: all the eggs have hatched and no birds were harmed in the process of cleaning my deck), my lovely mother hired someone to do it for us. The woman did a thorough job, and also scrubbed down the siding and patio furniture. Once all remnants of bird were gone, I went to Home Depot and bought a hammer and some thumb tacks (yes, I know... it's appalling that I didn't own a hammer. I'll give you a moment to get over it). We tacked up this magical netting called Bird Block to prevent our feathered creatures from coming back. I've had these great Japanese fish bowls sitting out on the deck that I inherited from one of my mother's recent relocations, but I've had no occasion to use them. We lined the edge of the porch with those fish bowls filled with azaleas and some other plant whose leaves look like elephant ears. Throw some lanterns out there and VOILA! New and improved porch!
We christened the new porch by inviting some neighbors over for wine and cheese that night. Our neighbor from across the hall brought some incense to stick in one of the flower pots to keep the mosquitos at bay. I never knew that worked, but I'm going out to a hippie store to buy some now. I went to Trader Joe's and bought some pita bread, a box of mixed cocktail crackers, some 3-layer hummus, aged gouda, dill havarti, and blackberries and black cherries. Here are the results of my impromptu entertaining:
I opened a bottle of Blue Jean, a California blend that is actually a pretty good value for it's money (it retails for $7.99 and is quite yummy).
All in all, it was a good way to start pulling my place into shape. A week later, the plants are still thriving. I've bought a Dyson and discovered a newfound love of vacuuming. I've cleaned my room and re-decorated the master bath. My mother re-decorated the guest bath and powder rooms. I'll leave all of that for another post, but I'm well on my way into making Chez Downbeats a home!
As I mentioned before, my condo was kind of unapologetically out of control and un-lived-in, and I'd gotten tired of it. Last weekend, I had an unexpected day off from rehearsal, my mother was in town, and she helped me clean house and shop for the new place.
One of the first priorities for us was getting the porch in order. Some barn swallows have been nesting in my porch above the sprinkler head for three seasons in a row. While I love nature, the bird droppings and inability to sit out on my porch have gotten super-old. Not particularly wanting to rip a bird's nest down (don't worry: all the eggs have hatched and no birds were harmed in the process of cleaning my deck), my lovely mother hired someone to do it for us. The woman did a thorough job, and also scrubbed down the siding and patio furniture. Once all remnants of bird were gone, I went to Home Depot and bought a hammer and some thumb tacks (yes, I know... it's appalling that I didn't own a hammer. I'll give you a moment to get over it). We tacked up this magical netting called Bird Block to prevent our feathered creatures from coming back. I've had these great Japanese fish bowls sitting out on the deck that I inherited from one of my mother's recent relocations, but I've had no occasion to use them. We lined the edge of the porch with those fish bowls filled with azaleas and some other plant whose leaves look like elephant ears. Throw some lanterns out there and VOILA! New and improved porch!
We christened the new porch by inviting some neighbors over for wine and cheese that night. Our neighbor from across the hall brought some incense to stick in one of the flower pots to keep the mosquitos at bay. I never knew that worked, but I'm going out to a hippie store to buy some now. I went to Trader Joe's and bought some pita bread, a box of mixed cocktail crackers, some 3-layer hummus, aged gouda, dill havarti, and blackberries and black cherries. Here are the results of my impromptu entertaining:
I opened a bottle of Blue Jean, a California blend that is actually a pretty good value for it's money (it retails for $7.99 and is quite yummy).
All in all, it was a good way to start pulling my place into shape. A week later, the plants are still thriving. I've bought a Dyson and discovered a newfound love of vacuuming. I've cleaned my room and re-decorated the master bath. My mother re-decorated the guest bath and powder rooms. I'll leave all of that for another post, but I'm well on my way into making Chez Downbeats a home!
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