Licorice for My Laryngitis

I had my first individual practice last night for the play. I only have one solo, and it’s a silly number where I’m pretending to be an old woman. I’ve listened to the CDs, and the girls who have this part almost all speak-sing it rather than regular old sing it. Personally, I’d like to at least try to sing-sing most of it.

After my first go last night, it’s pretty clear that my diaphragm is a little out of shape. I’ve always known this. Projecting has never been my forte. I think it has something to do with having a primary goal of not embarrassing myself; the louder I sing, the more likely people are to hear me mess up. But okay, I’ll work on singing louder. At least I know how – in theory – to fix that. (Fff, Sss, Sssh!)

After my second go, one of our several music directors (we seem to have a little uncertainty about who is actually in charge of the music) suggested that I should try not to go “over the fence” on my concluding notes. I wasn’t sure what she meant at first, but then she pointed out that I shouldn’t follow her example of singing, because – since she has perfect pitch – she can’t actually sing it the right way herself.

*blinkblink*

So she means I’m sharp. She’s probably right, but… very strange.

And the advice just kept getting stranger. After practice, she suggested I could try licorice drops to cure my laryngitis.

*blinkblink*

Laryngitis? I don’t have laryngitis. Was I doing worse than I thought? Was she confusing me with someone else? Sharon has laryngitis.

No, no. She had me straight. Apparently I was singing like I have laryngitis. (Well crap.) I came home and did a little research. Sure enough, the Mayo Clinic’s website says I could perfectly well have a temporary case of laryngitis from over-extending my rather rusty vocal cords. (And I must say, I was doing an admirable job hitting high F#s last night. Or maybe F# and 1/2s? :p Anyway, notes higher than any normal person normally sings.) Of course, it also says I might have gotten laryngitis as a result of diphtheria.

But probably not.

A little more research shows that using licorice as a cure for ailing throats is a practice that started with traditional Chinese medicine, but that in traditional Chinese medicine, it’s rarely ever just one herb used on its own.

Well, that’s all right. I may just toddle myself down to a health foods store and see what they recommend. Maybe they can also give me something to encourage my diaphragm to help me out a little more. On the other hand, there probably isn’t an herb in the world that can fix my sharpness problem. Guess I’ll just have to practice more. Good thing Dustin has headphones.

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Tzeitel!

I did it! I win! I got a part! I got THE part! I’m going to be Tzeitel in the upcoming Lead-Deadwood production of Fiddler on the Roof.

Wheeeeeee!

(And incidentally, here’s a funny thing):

I am Tzeitel!

Take the Fiddler on the Roof quiz at ChaiSpace.com

Okay, here’s a recap of auditions. It wasn’t nearly as dire as my conversation with Tom led me to believe. There had been a gap in communication somewhere, resulting in a much more normal audition than I’d been expecting. The director was in town, the parts had not yet been cast, and there was singing involved.

And I have decided: I love community theater. Every other theater experience I’ve had, whether it was at a church when I was 10, high school, or college, getting into a play has been about who has the most talent, who has the most friends, or who is sleeping with the director. (Haha, okay, not really.) But in a production where your potential cast pool consists of a community of 4,200 – of whom only 40 show up for auditions (and some are just there with their kids) – the production actually has nothing to do with talent. Instead, it is completely about interest and commitment and having a great time. You’re not making do with second-rate talent, you are celebrating that at least you got as much talent as you did, and probably without the attitudes that come along with (some) truly talented people.

This is going to be fun. I’m going to giggle when things don’t go perfectly, delight in the fact that none of the actors can handle dialects, and appreciate the irony that the “older man” I’ll be marrying will probably be a high school student ten years younger than I am. And I’m going to drag Sharon along with me. We had a little pep talk this morning where I reminded her that this isn’t Broadway. The point, truly, is to have fun.

Hooray! I’m in a musical!

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Auditioning for a Dream

Auditions for my dream are tonight after work. Or perhaps I should say “auditions.”

I wasn’t able to go to the Information Session myself, so I sent Sharon’s husband, Tom, on a reconnaissance mission. Here’s roughly how the conversation went when he called to report his findings:

Tom: So let’s see… for the auditions, you don’t need to do anything special. She said it’s “come as you are.”

Laura: Okay, did she say what we’d be singing?

Tom: You don’t have to have a prepared piece. You just come, and then if you’re wanting one of the main parts, maybe you’ll sing something.

Laura: “Maybe?” Okay, weird. What else?

Tom: The first rehearsal will be a week from Sunday, from 7-9.

Laura: On a Sunday? Gah. Okay. And after that?

Tom: Well, they won’t decide on a schedule until they have a cast, and can find out what will work for everyone. I guess that’s everyone, isn’t it?

Laura: Oh great. They’re casting everyone who turns up for auditions and think they can coordinate all those schedules?

Tom: Haha. Yeah well, maybe just the main characters. She didn’t know when the cast list would be announced, because the director isn’t here yet. She’s coming into town some time next week.

Laura: Huh? So who’s running the auditions?

Tom: Maybe the music director? She’s a student from Black Hills State University.

Laura: This gets better and better.

Tom: So I think for the first few rehearsals the main characters will just be on their own, maybe work with the music director until the real director comes.

Laura: And show times?

Tom: First three weekends in May – Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The last weekend might depend on how many people came to the show on the other weekends though.

Laura: Okay, I’ll remind my family not to bring tomatoes. So let me just recap: I don’t need to prepare a song, and might not even have to sing.

Tom: Right. Oh, she did say they still need a Golde.

Laura: I can’t be Golde! I’m, like, 12! But say… I know someone else who could be a great Golde…

Tom: I think I know who you’re talking about. You’ll lean on her a little, right?

Laura: I’m working on it. Now wait a sec… if they still need a Golde, does that mean they’ve already picked the cast??

Tom: Uh… I don’t know. She just said they still need a Golde.

Laura: This is going to be the craziest play I’ve ever tried to be in. Thanks for all your help, Tom.

(My apologies to Tom… this conversation was completely reconstituted from memory about six hours after the fact.)

So let me recap again: the auditions are tonight, but I maybe don’t have to sing, and maybe there aren’t even any parts left to audition for, and it doesn’t matter much anyway because the director won’t even be there? This has the makings of an absolute disaster!

I’m trying to keep all this in perspective, because I really don’t want to audition, wind up a Villager, and be disappointed about that. I say I’d settle for anything, but in honesty, I’d like a real part. I’ve convinced myself over the last few days that I deserve a real part. But maybe it’s an Old Boys Club and the music director already knows everyone involved and has the cast list figured out before anyone even shows up. I’m sure not good enough to blow THAT sort of thing away. So! I hereby declare this an Experiment In Social Chaos, and promise not to be annoyed when I’m passed over for someone who will clearly have less talent than I do.

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My Dream About to Come True?

I joke about the fact that I don’t have any goals. For the most part, this is sadly true. I’m pretty much content to roll with whatever life throws at me. I have no career ambitions, no skills I want to take to the Next Level. But I do have things that I wish I could do, and would do if I had the time and/or talent.

One of those goals (dreams?) is to be in a musical.

Okay, stop laughing and listen. I’m serious! When I was 10 years old, I was in a musical called “Adam’s Apple” about everyone’s favorite sinners, Adam and Eve. I got to to be Eve. I wore pink tights and a long pink shirt with green felt leaves glued around my waist and chest. I got to sing two solos. I can remember all the words to this day. I’m sure I was very cute. The following year, at the ripe old age of 11, I was scheduled to play Lydia in another Biblically-themed musical. Before we even got around to rehearsals, though, our music director abandoned ship and the show died.

Thus ended my marvelous stage career.

I arrived in high school full of confidence and enthusiasm. I was given a bit part in a play during my freshman year, but when musical auditions rolled around, I fell flat on my face. Nerves kill me. As a senior, I got my second chance and had (I think) I kick-booty audition, but I wasn’t cast. I asked why, and the drama teacher told me I was too short. Too short for the chorus?!? I remained bitter for the remainder of my high school career. I still occasionally have dreams where this bitterness resurfaces, usually in the form of returning to my high school as some sort of musical star, much to the embarrassment of said drama teacher.

In college I was cast in four plays, as a dancer in each one. I was such a good dancer, they cast me even when there were no dancing parts called for. It was fun, the directors loved me, and I was happy. I flopped the audition my freshman year for Into the Woods (I SO could have been Red Riding Hood!) and junior year when they did Cabaret (a DANCING musical no less!) I was studying abroad. Woe for shattered dreams!

And so I am left with this unfulfilled desire to be in another musical – to prove to myself that hitting puberty didn’t rob me of all talent. And what comes my way?

Compliments of my coworker Sharon, who played a Mama in high school, from her husband who thinks it’s time for her to reprise her roll:

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF AUDITIONS!

The Historic Deadwood Lead Arts Council (HDLAC) and the Historic Homestake Opera House (HHOH) will be hosting an informational meeting regarding the community theatre production of Fiddler on the Roof. The informational meeting will be held at the Smart Center located on the backside of the Opera House (Julius Street) at 7 p.m. on Tuesday, March 4. Auditions will be held at the Smart Center on Wednesday, March 5th and Thursday, March 6th at 7 p.m. with productions scheduled for May.

No experience is required to be a part of this wonderful theatre event. Donna Fjestad, of Pierre, will be directing the show and would like to encourage residents of all ages to participate. “There will be a part for everyone, no one will be turned away,” said Fjestad. A variety of roles are available from the main characters to the many villagers who range from young children to seniors. In addition to the acting roles, residents will be needed to help with choreography, music, stage sets, costumes, etc.

“The show is not about having only experienced and extremely gifted people involved, its about community and having fun with your friends and neighbors,” said Karen Everett, HDLAC Director. “Even if you’ve never been involved with theatre, it will be a great experience and we want you and need you!”

Help make history by being a part of the first community theatre production at the Historic Homestake Opera House since restoration began. For more information, please feel free to contact HDLAC at 584-1461, HHOH at 584-2067 or Donna Fjestad at 280-1393.

Do you SEE this?? Allow me to repeat the important part: “There will be a part for everyone, no one will be turned away.“

Hooray! I’m a shoe-in! They can’t turn me away or call me too short! I could be one of 76 Townspeople!

But seriously – there aren’t that many people IN Lead or Deadwood, so I might, by statistical default, get a real part! I could be a Daughter. There are five of them, after all, and most of them don’t do anything but stand around. I can do that!

I told Sharon that if she does this, I will go see her in the play. “Hahaha!” she says. “That’s what I’m afraid of!” I promised to leave my camera at home. She didn’t sound convinced. She told me I could go audition instead, and that she would come see ME. I told her that if she does, she’d better bring her camera. I’d need pictures to send to my high school drama teacher. “SEE?? I am TOTALLY talented!!”

(I just heard her talking to someone else on the phone, saying “Laura is going to be in Fiddler on the Roof in May, and I want to make sure I’m here to see it.” Aah! It’s nice for people to believe in me!)

I can’t remember the last time I used this many exclamation points in anything I’ve written. I’m very excited. Now what do you suppose they’ll say when I tell them my rehearsal availability? “Monday nights, every other Wednesday, and Friday but only until 6:00…”

“Sign here,” they’ll say. They have to, after all. No one will be turned away!

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