Sing, Sing.

I am a passionate person, by nature. I believe passion to be necessary, a way for us to feel alive and stay in touch. One of my passions is music. I know, cliche. Don't judge me!  I enjoy it immensely. I love opera, and listening to those who have been classically trained. While I think that popular music has its place (especially when you're in the mood to dance) it's just too much sometimes. I don't really dig hip hop, it's too nasty. I don't give a hoot what someone is doing with someone else's boyfriend or who's wearing apple bottom jeans or what she's doing in those jeans. Lady Gaga? Not so much. She's a creeper.

I was introduced to the Phantom of the Opera early, and it was love at first listen. One of my first cd's was the Phantom soundtrack, and I feel asleep to it every night as a tween.  Every. Night. I would wake up with Sarah Brightman in my head and tangled in my headphones, usually being poked by the metal headband. I always imagined that I would be the diva, with a beautiful, flowing dress. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that diva. I think she crept into the shadows and hung out there with my other fleeting dreams: the artist, the cello master,  and the photojournalist.

My point is that I have always wanted to sing opera. Even if it wasn't on stage, even if I never made it into an actual opera. Even if the only person I sing to is myself. I rediscovered that dream today, thanks to my awesome mom.

I mentioned (about a year ago) that I thought of auditioning for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. This came after I had the opportunity to sing with our beautiful stake choir in the Interfaith Choir event that is held annually, and includes choirs from local Episcopal, Catholic, Methodist and LDS churches in the downtown Salt Lake City area. The woman responsible for directing the choir last year is in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and mentioned to me that I should. I was flattered, of course, but never made anything of it. Luckily, my mom did. My mom has an incredible knack for picking up on things that my brother and I desire, and that she also feels are worthwhile. Once she's picked up on it, there is no stopping her! Needless to say, she devised a plan on her own to get me there. So, for Christmas 2010, I received the fabulous gift of seven voice lessons to get me started back on the path to the choir. I had my first lesson tonight. Yes, I am fully aware that it is March. I just never got around to scheduling my first lesson. I was too TERRIFIED busy to fit the lessons in, what with church callings, school and work. Last week I made the mistake  decision to pay my parents a surprise midweek visit, and I was forced to call the voice teacher right then and there. Oh, the pain! I was shakin' in my boots.

After tonight, I am no longer scared of Julie, and have a renewed faith that I can whip this old voice back into shape. I think she's heading up the optimism train, because after my FIRST lesson, she said my voice is good enough to whip this bad boy out.  Either that, or Puccini's "O mio babbino caro." We'll see how this goes.....