Continuing yesterday's post...

But first, before I forget: I caught part of PRETTY WOMAN last night, which I haven't seen for a long time. (I only wanted to watch up until the "Pretty Woman" montage when she goes back into the store where the mean women refused to wait on her and she holds up her shopping bags and goes, "BIG mistake! HUGE!") Did it ever occur to anyone that this movie is beyond creepy? I mean, it's totally disgusting. He's having sex with a hooker on the piano in the hotel ballroom. This is not ROMANTIC, it's NASTY. Ew.

So we were on to the deconstruction. All I have are questions. Why did I need to bring this up anyway? Why am I still obsessing about this particularly horrible thing? Why did I feel the need to sabotage my marriage? I'm certainly no stranger to self-destructive behavior. That weird dark fog-head buzzing thing seems to happen whenever I do something irrational and hurtful to myself: during all the bulimic and binging episodes, when I slept with Dave the racist pothead... Come to think of it, that's how my head felt when I had that panic attack during my first try at grad school--the time when I was convinced breaking my arm with a hammer or overdosing on Advil were viable ways to get out of writing my prospectus on the influence of traditional British folk music on Jethro Tull. What the hell? Is this like my Dead Zone or something, except instead of seeing the future I make really horrible decisions? Is there something really wrong with me? I don't know what to think about this.

And while I'm sure it's completely natural to think about something like this from time to time--and I'm not trying to get off the hook, believe me--how healthy is it for it to still be haunting me ten months later? It's with me every day--this reminder that "I am a bad person who doesn't deserve Mark." It even came up during the wedding ceremony, which was supposed to be the happiest time of my life. While I was putting on Mark's ring, saying some jazz about it being a sign of my fidelity, did anybody notice how vehement and fierce I was? I was trying to convince him and God and myself that it would never, ever happen again. As if there were even a CHANCE. As if I would ever hurt him like that in a normal situation. But can I trust myself? There's this other singer in town here who I've done a few shows with, and I'm kind of attracted to him. I've found myself deliberately avoiding him in case I felt tempted. But I'm NOT. It's so fucked up. I feel like I can't trust myself anymore, even though Mark trusts me implicitly. He was able to blame 95 percent of this on the guy, and five percent on me for being lonely or sowing my oats or something. And part of me knows this is completely true--part of me knows it was just out of desperation and rebellion or something--but part of me isn't convinced. Part of me is convinced that I'm just a horrible person, that I don't deserve a happy life, and that I will make out with the first willing warm body that crosses my path the minute Mark's out of the room. So repentance I understand, but self-flagellation seems a bit much.

So what do I do? I can't talk to Mark about it, because it's just about me being crazy and I don't want to upset him. Do I need meds? All I know is every day I look down at Mark and think of how lucky I am, and how stupid I was, and how undeserving of his trust I am. No wonder I feel so stressed, and have trouble sleeping, and am tired all the time. (I mean, besides the defective ovaries and everything.) I just don't know what to do, and am open to all ideas. Including those from lurkers, unless you're just spamming me.

On a happier note, it's almost Christmas. Oh, and the party this weekend went really well--my grandfather's wine was a particular hit. I poured it into empty bottles and created labels that said "Avozinho [Grandpa] Red 2004". Very amusing.

I have a lot on my mind, so this may be a long post. Or I may come back to it later, as my battery is set to run out in about an hour. Plus, how long can I sit in Panera?

There is one topic which I have never spoken of on my blog. Well, I'm sure there's more than one, but there's a topic which I have purposely avoided. I'm perfectly willing to talk about the ins and outs of my reproductive problems, my sex life, my crazy mother, but I haven't brought this up so far because 1. it's a bigass can of worms, 2. it makes me look like a bad person, and 3. I thought not talking about it would make it go away. This very scary subject, with which those of you in the know are undoubtedly familiar, is what happened last February in Florida. Basically, well, I cheated on Mark. There, I said it. I didn't sleep with the guy (how I will refer to him), we just kissed (and I let him feel me up) for approximately two minutes. I told Mark two days later (the most horrible phone conversation of my entire LIFE), he forgave me, I went to Confession the next day, all is well, right? NO. I mean, there's a lot more to it than just "I cheated on Mark".

First of all, the guy had been sexually harrassing me since Day One. Seriously. Grabbing me from behind and telling me how much he'd "love to get [me] naked...if I weren't engaged." Among other things. Seriously inappropriate stuff. And I certainly would've reported him to our program director if it had happened at the opera house (this particular comment was after hours, at the local sports bar). I didn't think that things that happened off-site would count--later, when I checked my contract, I learned that they certainly DID count. And I did report him, after the fact. More on that later. Anyway, I also thought that, as a modern, empowered woman, I could handle this on my own with a few stern words. And the night after the "get me naked" comment I did say something to him--which he basically tossed off. (Should've been my first clue.) Did I mention that this guy was totally slimy and completely NOT my type? All he had going for him was a thick head of hair. He's not even a particularly good singer.

Back on topic: So I thought that expressing my disapproval would change his behavior, but of course it didn't. I guess I just got complacent. Then it became flattering, and I started flirting with him--innocently, I thought. Mark and I had been together for so long, I guess it was just nice to get some different male attention. (So much for being a "modern, empowered woman".) It didn't help that we were together all the time--not only were we a married couple in one of the operas, but we had a particularly steamy scene together in the apprentice scene performances. (G-rated, I suppose, but with lots of subtext.) It'd be nice to blame it on the scene, but that wouldn't work, either. Anyway, one day when I was practicing alone I realized that the scene had been staged without any kissing, but it really required at least two (the scenes programs with this company tend to be particularly chaste--in fact, I think the artistic director even prohibits onstage cleavage for the apprentices, in scenes and in the mainstage choruses--which must be why the obvious kiss moments were staged differently). One day I mentioned this to the guy in conversation, and we decided to work the love scene out with the kissing added. At the time, it seemed important for the energy of the scene. I still feel that way, honestly (if only it had been with someone else!). This was supposed to happen at the opera house, in an empty rehearsal room, but when the time came there were no spare rooms. So we ended up getting together in his bedroom. (Bad idea, of course, but I suppose I was under his thrall--and I was dead set against him ever entering my bedroom. This should've tipped me off that something was wrong.) Anyway, this extra practice session, if you will, went okay, though I did get carried away a bit. I chalked it up to my lack of experience with stage kissing. (I've only had one official one so far--with a woman, in fact--and I was nervous about it but it went okay. I have tended to have very G-rated opera directors--my high school musical director put at least a dozen kisses in one scene in OKLAHOMA!, which thank God I didn't have to do with Jason P---zelski, ugh!) I think separating fiction and reality can be difficult with something so seemingly intimate. But I thought I was cool with it. I even told Mark about it beforehand, and he was wary (I had mentioned the guy before, and he didn't like what he heard) but okay with it. He trusted me, and I ought to have been deserving of his trust.

This happened to take place about two days before Mark came down to visit. The visit was wonderful--though he did order me the wrong sandwich at Subway, which brought on a temper tantrum from me (why do I remember this?)--and when I saw him off at the airport (on a Tuesday morning) I remember thinking how I could certainly manage to survive the next five weeks before I saw him again. (It had been a rough time before he came--almost two months apart!--and I spent a lot of time pining. Or drinking. Sometimes at the same time. :>) Then the next day I made this joke at the guy's expense--there was something about an ugly-ass blonde wig on a Latino that I just couldn't handle--and I jokingly asked if I could make it up to him somehow. One of us suggested (I can't even remember who, months later) that he be allowed to touch my ass as consolation. So that happened, and I did let it go too far. I can't describe what was going through my head at the time. Probably nothing. Someone was having a birthday that night, so there was a customary cake/beer consumption going on. It's hard to explain what I was feeling--I felt like everything was dark around the edges, kind of like right before you faint, but I felt this weird energy and a constant humming in my head. I don't remember what my thought process was, but whatever demon was in my brain made me call the guy over and tell him, "I'll give you two minutes." We went to his bedroom, we kissed, I let him feel me up but stopped everything else, all the while looking at my watch. Then I stopped and left. I didn't call Mark that night--I guess I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. I didn't feel guilty yet; I was just really confused. The next day I regretted it, and asked a few people I trusted what I should do. I had to tell him right away, I realized, and called him before the Friday night performance. And again after the performance, for a total of about four hours. We cried, I hyperventilated. He wanted a blow-by-blow description of what exactly happened. I couldn't even give that to him. "I'll give you two minutes"? How could I tell him that I'd said that?! It was impossible. How Mark was able to remain mostly rational I'll never know. He came out with these matter-of-fact statements like, "Well, I'm sure all married couples face things like this, but I didn't think it would be so soon..." He acknowledged that the guy was "an evil fucker" (his exact words!), and that I needed to report him. Don't get me wrong, he got very upset at times (I'll never forget when he said, sobbing, "You went to his BEDROOM?! With my ENGAGEMENT RING on?!" That's what sticks with me the most...) but he was much more rational than I was. He was the one who said I should go to Confession the next morning. The worst part of it all was that I still needed to work with the guy (oh, did I mention, by the way, that I also had to perform both of my apprentice scenes the next morning, including the one with the guy? Great timing.), so I needed to tell him that our relationship would be just professional, period.

So the next morning I went to Confession (I'll also never forget the cute little Polish priest saying, "But is that not the sexual harrassment? Next time he try something, you slap him."), which made me feel better (laugh all you want, I'm apparently Catholic to the core). I spoke to our program director after the scene performances (the most serious I ever saw him), emphasizing that what had happened was consensual, but I wanted to let the company know for the future. Then I had to talk to the guy. He got pissy, as Mark predicted, saying that I was the one who initiated it, etc., but I basically told him that I didn't care who started it, but it was over and as we had to see each other for the next month we would keep things professional, that's it. Then I walked away and got upset, because I hate being yelled at. I cried a lot that weekend.

So that's the part of the story that the select few know. Here's the part that nobody else knows. In order to avoid the guy, I had to avoid almost all social interaction (very difficult). One night when I was in bed he and his, um, female companion came to talk to my roommate; just hearing his voice was enough to provoke a nightmare where I dreamed he came into my bedroom. This was not working. So I made up with him, sort of. One night, as he was getting his wig put on, I came up to him and said that avoiding him wasn't working, could we just be friends? He laughed and we shook hands. I had no intention of being friends with him, of course--I just wanted to be able to be in the same room with him. It was still hard--there were times I wanted to puke--but I tried to make it work. But then things started to slip into the old pattern. Even though I knew how dangerous he was, I started flirting with him again. It was in public, certainly, but it was wrong. I kept doing it even though he made my skin crawl. We even parted on good terms. Then he started sending me emails. I even told Mark, and I blocked his address from my email and from Frienster.

Now, months later, I still feel the need to deconstruct this. Which I will do tomorrow...

This post has been cannibalized from an email to my voice teacher (with names and locations changed to protect the innocent), as I thought you all might want to know how my auditions went:
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To save time in my next lesson, whenever it may be, here's a quick summary of how the auditions went:

[Midwestern summer program]: They only heard one aria from everyone (four-minute slots!). I sang "Voi lo sapete", they said "very impressive", done. I'm trying to take it positively.

[Southern resident program]: [Artistic Director, who I sang for in October in a masterclass) recognized me right away. I started with "Voi lo sapete" [which he suggested, in lieu of the aria I sing for Upstate NY audition #1, which is too damn high], he smiled and said, "Now isn't that SO much easier to sing?", I said oh, yeah. Then he asked for ALL of "Mi tradi". I tried to really vary the emotions on the verses, which I think worked out well. I took an extra breath on the last page but I don't think it was detrimental. He asked me where else I had auditions, then I left. The pianist I hired was quite good--very intuitive and had a good feel for vocal music.

[Midwestern resident program]: They don't let you choose your first aria, but they asked for "Dich, theure Halle" [Wagner] so I was pleased. (Though at 10:30 in the morning...yuck) Then the sneaky guy asked for "Mi tradi" [coloratura Mozart aria--totally different to sing than the first aria]--and for me to start right on the aria. Mean! But it actually went pretty well--I just concentrated really hard on finding a smaller focus [singer-ese]. I was kind of proud of myself there.

[Upstate NY summer program #1]: Sang "Stridono lassu". It really does feel a little high and relentless. But I think it went okay. (By the way, this was on Friday. There was a big snowstorm and it took me 2 1/2 hours to drive to the train station over six inches of snow--nothing was plowed. It was a NIGHTMARE. I'm glad I was actually able to sing at all after that.)

[Upstate NY summer program #2]: The pianist I had arranged for this audition called me Friday morning deathly ill, so I had to take my chances with the pianist they provided. Luckily he was someone I already knew ([person involved with YAP I did last winter]), and the moment I saw him I figured everything would be fine. I started with "Voi lo sapete", and they seemed to like it. Then they asked me to start with the middle section of "Do not utter a word". Vocally it went quite well, though I think I could've been more specific dramatically. Unfortunately I forgot to drop my friend Brad's name, which might have helped me. I hear they're making calls already--we'll see.

I did make goals for the auditions, per [aforementioned Artistic Director], which were to notice what my shoulders were doing and to anticipate musical changes dramatically. I think I accomplished these, for the most part. --Also, I was able to coach with [great vocal coach] while I was up there, and I have some feedback from the coaching which I can tell you about in my lesson.
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There, now wasn't that scintillating? While others are home-birthing ten-pound babies in a bathtub with no anesthesia (!), I am taking two-hour train trips to sing for five minutes for a chance to sing in the chorus of a few operas this summer. (I also had a harrowing experience the evening of the snowstorm and the two auditions--getting stuck behind an accident on I-84 for almost three hours with the engine turned off (I almost ran out of gas!), freezing, finally finding a way off the interstate at one A.M., but this is all I will reveal. I really don't want to talk about it.)

And a final note: met Cathy's boyfriend Saturday. He has my seal of approval. :) Email me if you want more information.

Welcome to the world, new baby boy! I can't wait to see you.

In other happy news, I am here in New York, having driven the whole way yesterday. I am rather proud of myself for this feat of endurance. I went a way I'd never gone before which took me through Allentown and Bethlehem and Stroudsburg and finally through twenty-five miles of the Delaware Water Gap, where I hadn't been in years. It was a great way to break up what generally becomes hundreds of miles of monotonous interstate. I felt I would need lots of distraction to keep me alert, which this route provided. I would not suggest going this way in the wintertime, though--very hilly. Plus I kept thinking that deer would come darting out of the woods. No such luck, thankfully.

I have five auditions in the next week. Looks like I'll be taking the train from Poughkeepsie this time (the parking situation in Beacon is not good). I'll actually be staying with my brother and his girlfriend (cohabitation--shocking!) tomorrow night so I don't have to schlep into the city two days in a row. I really don't know how people do this five days a week. It's really exhausting.

Last item: Mark and I are having a holiday wine and cheese party, which I finalized today on Evite. Our friend from Charlotte has already promised to come! Guess we can't back out now...