Remember how I lost a role that I loved last week? ( It kinda blew chunks for those just tuning in.)

Today I had a “Close door, open window” moment.

I got a phone call from the very sweet assistant director who held my hand through the whole ordeal. She told me that she was participating in the summer stock season of an adorable lakeside theater about an hour away from my house and asked if I would have any interest in splitting a role with her because she is so busy she can’t commit to every performance over three months.

Dude.

I have always wanted to work in this particular theater. It’s small (About 300 seats) and it is a hand built log theater that a family founded about 40 years ago. I love it. I always have, since I was a kid. I just never really thought I could work it into my schedule or pay that much for gas. However, since I am splitting the performances, it will be a manageable 15 shows and since I’m getting paid, the gas point is moot.

The role is in Thoroughly Modern Millie as the eccentric diva, Muzzy (Typecasting, anyone?). Problems? She is in her late 40′s, and is basically supposed to be a bigger diva than Ella Fitzgerald and Aretha Franklin combined. You can check out the big number I’ll be singing if you care to. This is a crappy recording, but the actress is a pretty damn good Muzzy (Still a bit young, though.)

A real show stopper, no?

I can’t help but be a little nervous. I know that I am in my early 30′s and am a thin-ish white opera singer that lives in a house built by dairy hands in their spare time, but given that I live in a totally homogenized section of the country, you are doing awesome if you can find a female that isn’t blond, blue eyed and dainty featured.

Even though I was fairly confident I would be cast due to the strong recommendation of my friend, the people in charge still had to hear me in person, so last night I stopped by the director and producer’s house and sang. The role is heavy, jazzy, low and sultry, so I sang few stanzas of a jazzed up version of “Summertime” that I sing about an octave and a half down from the original key because that is the only remotely appropriate styled song I knew. The role uses the belt technique, which is usually harder for me, but the key is so dang low (my comfort zone) that I have little to no issues.

The producer was lovely. She recognized me from The King and I and she said, “I would be standing back stage and this glorious presence and VOICE would glide by.” (FYI, hearing that is much better for your psyche than auditioning when you know that the person doesn’t really dig your sound. Just so you know.)

They must have liked it because I got the call just now that the role is mine and my first rehearsal is tonight.

Even though in so many ways, I am not right for the role, I am really excited because it is TOTALLY different from classical or the musical theater that I usually do. I will get to channel my inner bluesy lounge singer and I will also have something to drag my ass out of the house and work at.

I have never seen the movie, heard the music before yesterday, nada. The cast has already been in rehearsals for almost 8 weeks. My opening performance is June 19th, which means that I have about a month to get this role down.

That is not a long time, people.

Wish me luck. (Don’t tell me to “Break a leg”. With my luck, Karma would probably translate that literally)

We all have moments from high school that we remember with perfect clarity. Moments that are still so close to you that you remember everything about it-the smell, the outfit you were wearing, and the feelings that corsed through your hormone-addled body. Hopefully, some of those moments were times of triumph or joy, but often they are moments of failure, embarrassment or stinging disappointment. I have been on both sides of those feelings and know vividly what each feels like.

Tonight I was responsible for deciding some of those moments for a good many teenagers and I am not sure how I feel about it.

I was asked to be a judge at a vocal competition for high schoolers.

It is a huge deal for these kids.

It’s a big deal to me as well.

It is a lot of responsibility.

A lot of self-worth can be tied up in a trophy and I am not sure how well that sits with me.

Every time I am asked to judge something like this I take it very seriously because I know how much it means to them. I truly enjoy doing it. I have worked hard to be qualified to judge someone vocally and I love working with the kids.

I also needed this responsibility right now.

I have been overwhelmed with life suck. I know that it is necessary and so I am really trying to stay positive and upbeat, but I have been having a hard few days and have been a shut in this week. Getting out of the house to go somewhere that I need to actually bathe and brush my hair was very, very needed.

The fact that I got paid is just a bonus.

Sure, there are frustrations when you judge a competition of this sort. Some of the performances are so godawful that all you can write is “You have a very pretty dress on and your hair looks nice”, they are THAT bad.

After you are done siting through two long hours writing so fast and furious on judging forms that your hand feels like it is falling off, you have to go in a little room and determine who wins and who loses.

Luckily, most of the winners were apparent to us.

Sometimes when the winners are announced, there is some confusion in the audience as far as placement. That is not an anomaly. Audience favorites are often not the people that are selected by the judges. For example, in the male placement tonight, there was one singer that was so adorable I wanted to put him in my purse and take him home. His voice was more suited for musical theater, but he had such a playful and outgoing presence that the audience loved him. He did well on his piece (I attempt from love’s sickness. Not an easy piece to sing) but we picked another boy that did not quite have his presence and popularity of the other boy, but his training and sound were just better.

Plus, there was no way that the adorable kid would not have oodles of accolades in his high school career. He was a grade younger and I don’t know if I can describe it, but it was a gut instinct that the other kid NEEDED it more. I wouldn’t have awarded it to him just on that alone, but it cinched my decision for me.

I feel good about how the evening went, but I admit to having a moment of self doubt.

The third place trophy in the female vocal division.

It was between two young singers, both were ok, neither remarkable (Truthfully, no one in the competition was remarkable) and both were of similar skill.

One of the girls sang a flashier piece than the other. It was the song that landed me a full-ride vocal scholarship to college and honestly? I think that it colored my judgment against her. I feel I was a little more critical of the piece than the others.

I cast my vote for the other girl and while the judges agreed with me, I also think that they may have been just following my lead as I had more classical experience than the other judges, but I’m not sure.

I walked back into the auditorium feeling fine about it.

Then?

I saw the face of the girl I voted against when they announced and she realized that she hadn’t placed.

She was devastated.

I felt a bit like six shades of suck.

I have failures from high school that I can still remember because they have stayed with me. They were excruciating. Sure, it doesn’t sting as much now that years have passed, but I have certainly played and replayed the moments time and time again and critiqued what I did wrong, and what I would do differently if I had a do-over.

I still stand by my decision and know that guess what? SOMEONE had to lose, but seeing that moment was hard for me. I know that she is utterly confused and probably bewildered at the decision we came to. I have been right there where she was at that moment and I really wish that I hadn’t been one of those responsible for handing it to her.

I know I’ll get over it.

I really hope that she does.

My body hurts.

This isn’t a new experience for me. I have several back and neck herniations from a bad car crash and being thrown and trampled by a horse. One leg is also shorter than the other due to some curvature of my spine.

(Totally sexy imagry, no?)

It exacerbates matters that I have a bed that sucks. We are going to replace it this year, but I’ve been suffering with it for the last 6 years.

I never wake up feeling refreshed. I usually start feeling like knives are being stuck in various body parts before my eyelids flutter open. I imagine it is similar to what one would feel like if thrown out of a moving train. Then run over by a tractor. Then peed on by the guy driving the tractor.

Point is, I hurt most of the time that I am conscious.

Aleve is my friend and for the most part I just suck it up and deal. You get used to it after awhile.

Right now, my body hurts more than the same-old, same-old.

Why, you ask?

See this fuzzy, poorly lit photo?

Yah, sorry about that. It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.

This gem of a theater will be my home for the next three weeks. I will spend more time there than in my own bed. (Again-given the extreme hideousness of it, I’m not sure that this is a bad thing.)

I am in the final weeks of appearing in a little musical called “The King & I“.

I’m just in the chorus. Specifically, I’m one of “The Royal Wives”. (The King of Siam was into polygamy. And yes, I find the irony that I’m doing this in Utah amusing.)

Normally, being in a choral role isn’t that difficult. Usually the toughest thing about it is the hours you have to wait around the theater doing nothing and wishing you could go home already.

Musically and character-wise, this is a VERY easy show but this choral role IS ABOUT TO KILL ME.

Apparently, the King is married to nine submissive women that drop to their knees and put their foreheads on the floor whenever he enters the room and freeze in that position until he finishes talking and says we can get up.

Before the bitchfest gets out of control I will say that this is turning into a great little production. I had such huge reservations at first, but it is going to be great. The orchestra is excellent, they flew in a great conductor from Florida and the costuming is as good, if not better than many of the professional productions I’ve been in. Because this is the debut musical for this theater company, they are investing thousands and thousands of dollars into it. Even the scene I LOATHE in musical theater (Uncle Tom’s Cabin) is good because they brought in an excellent choreographer and ballet company to perform it.

I am very happy and non-embarrassed to be a part of it.

THAT SAID…

Do you know how freaking long you have to be on your knees as a Royal Siamese Wife?

A FREAKING LONG TIME would be the answer. (The King enters the room a lot. He is also very long-winded.)

You would think that with that many wives we could rotate and schedule to keep it down to a minimum. (Was that inappropriate? Probably.)

Up! Down! Up! Down! Put your forehead on the ground!

For hours, and hours, and HOURS A DAY.

All of the bending and contorting into such extreme angles is taking its toll on my body. The other wives are even feeling it and I have EIGHT YEARS on the next oldest wife.

During the long-ass scenes where the King delivers amusing, pithy and long-winded dialog, etc. etc. etc., I am kneeling on the very hard stage floor feeling the blood pool and swell in my already damaged leg.

What? You mean you didn’t know that my 33-year-old body is totally falling apart? There’s more wrong with me than just back suck?

Yup.

Eight years ago, three weeks after my son, Christopher was born, I developed a massive blood clot in my abdomen that went down the length of my entire leg. I have a clotting disorder (Leiden V Factor) that means I am much more susceptible to blood clots than normal people. Since I have already thrown a clot, my chances of reclotting are even higher. It damn near killed me and left me with a damaged circulatory system and perpetually swollen leg.

My.legs.suck.

They suck.

(Oh, and did I mention that they SUCK?)
Don’t believe me? Here. Some honest photography for you.

You can see the size difference and the bluish, purple tone to my damaged leg.

You can see the pressure that is put on my left leg by how much the veins in my left foot “Pop” compared to my right foot.

I already struggle with poorly shaped legs. I am a bit bow-legged, I have a really hard time gaining muscle mass and have big feet and cankles. The blood clot just makes it all so much more attractive. Yippee.

It is why I always wear long pants and skirts. I never show my legs unless it is absolutely necessary. It isn’t just a vanity issue. I have been approached more times than I care to remember by well-meaning medical people who tell me that I may have a blood clot and should go to the nearest ER.

In their defense, it is a life-threatening condition. Plus, my leg looks like I could be in serious trouble; Most clots resolve where the leg returns to normal size. My clot was GINORMOUS. When It first happened my leg the size of both my legs put together and was dark purple.

I was in the hospital for a month. They told me to “Make arrangements” and prepare. They didn’t even dare put a filter in there were that scared that it would cause a piece to break off and go to my heart or brain and kill me. I was on Oxycontin for 8 months (It was rather new at the time. My doctors had no idea the hell it would be to get off of it after that long. Post for another day but lets just say that I understand why people hold up liquor stores and drive to Tijuana!)

This condition is permanent and painful. It sucks.

As much as I have enjoyed aspects of this musical and know that I auditioned willingly, I can’t wait for it to be over. It will be quite the effort to sit up there hurting and swelling and stay perfectly still and serene-looking.

There is zero point to this post. I have no “How I conquered my pain” or management tips or motivational tales about how I reached deep inside of myself and started wearing skirts to show that I love my body just as it is.

Nah.

I just wanted to bitch and whine about unattractive legs, crappy medical conditions and back pain. (And my piece of crap bed. We can’t forget about that.)

Thanks for listening. You all deserve a cookie for making it to the end of such long-winded, self-serving drivel.

Sigh…