Bravissima

I figure we go back to my "Viva la Not-So-Diva" roots. It's been a strange, emotionally exhausting weekend.

Friday 2pm I had a blowout with my boss at Hallmark about how I've been apathetic and vacant. Which is true. I've been completely depressed this month and kind of hating everything in my life. And then she suggested I should be fired and should only work seasonly so I left.

6pm - I get a phone call being offered a job at a marketing firm that I am slightly apprehensive about because it mostly based on commissions and I have to get up at 6:30am every day and drive to Raleigh. But it is full time and there is a chance I can make a decent amount of cash.

8pm - Recital. We can't figure how to get the camera to work...I'm a mess with the accompianiment. But vocally I sound fine (if a little too bright) And I never freaking know what do with my hands when I'm not moving them. I make wings. It looks strange. But my parents and the old people love it. I get the most applause out of everyone. This one old lady of Eastern European descent says "I sing beautiful and look sexy." Nice. Braden has to work at the last minute and can't make it, which is probably for the best because he watches it later uncomfortably and makes fun of my expressions.

Which I wasn't really expecting him to LAUGH. Smile maybe, but not smirk. Maybe a "wow, you sound really good." or "you look beautiful." But he just kind of laughs through the whole thing and I don't know what to do so I just laugh along, kind of like at Christmas when my cousins started making fun of me at the dinner table about Sean and our engagement and all the horrible things that happened. As if that was the appropriate dinner conversation. How steamingly uncomfortable I was, but I played along and shared the same goofy embarrassing, revolting anecdotes.

Saturday 12am - We go to The Station and they are playing Soul & old school Beach music which I love. I convince Braden to dance with me and have massive amounts of fun. I was on a high from the recital, so I even got up the urge to talk to people. STRANGERS! I KNOW, RIGHT? I may have made a friend. I must say, having Bax with us is wonderful ice breaker because everybody likes a puppy. It's like that commercial where single men rent puppies to meet women. Guess what? It works! We dance some more (I request Sam Cooke's "You Send Me", but no dice. Those DJs never play requests...probably because they have a premade Ipod shuffle playlist. The art of the DJ has clearly been simplified over the past decade.) We both get very drunk. Blue moons for everyone!

2:00am - He gets sick of dancing like he alway does so I ask if he minds if I dance with other people. He doesn't mind and hey I'm feeling very pretty and social for once. So a lot of men want to dance with me. Braden disappears so I guess most of them assume I'm single. And this guy starts following me around, getting the wrong idea...following to my car...to go hang out at our apartment. He's confused and I'm not sober enough to explain my boyfriend is IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW. PISSED OFF. So we have a stupid drunk fight where he ignores me and I keep yelling and then at some point we embrace and have sex and then just pass out.

10am - We wake up hungover and have breakfast together. It's uncomfortable.

All of these rollercoaster emotions over the past 24 hours...too much. I know it's gonna get better and level out eventually...but it's really been too much drama for me to handle. I am so ready to put January 2010 past me.

But you just came here for the recital video. Okay, here you go!

Is La Vie Boheme really all it's cracked up to be?

Being a starving artist is so glamorized...is it really all what the great composers and film makers made it out to be? I don't think it's all that much fun, especially at the moment where I can barely afford groceries and don't feel like much of an artist. And I followed a boy to Carrboro. A boy who could care less about music theatre and lyric sopranos and Astoria and apartments and voice lessons and fighting for an impossible dream in the big city. But someone who fell in love with ME all the same.

I had hoped that when I moved here, I would find full-time work and I could save money. I live rather modestly if I have to...just take voice lessons and piano lessons. But then my $3000 savings dried up and there's still no temp job to be found. And at this point, I'm just floundering. I can no longer afford piano lessons (or even a PIANO...I learn on a little Yamaha keyboard and sneak on to pianos where ever I am.) or voice lessons. And all the professionals in my life keep telling me to move. And I knew, I KNEW from the minute I met Braden that he could never coexist with my dreams. Despite the fact that he romanticized following me somewhere. From the minute I saw this man build things out of junk in our backyard,  I realized "Okay...maybe if I want to be with him, I need to find a way to work around this New York, big city actor-singer thing."

I don't have a job there. I'm not the kind of person that can just up and move to somewhere like that. Not in this climate. I don't trust myself or the world. I've had the following fantasy proposals: a) get into grad school at Manhattan School of Music and b) get decent job and move there. But I can't even get a job here...

I had a major blow today. I was considered for an fantastic opportunity at an IT staffing firm in Raleigh as an account manager. The money was good, the job appealing and flexible with growth and promotion opportunities. And it didn't happen. I don't know why I get my hopes for shit like that. It makes me feel like I'm a fucking performing arts failure and now I can't even find a good job to support myself. I know that's drudging the bottom of the barrel, but that's my gut reaction.

But we're just gonna have to figure it out.