Electricity, E-Lec-Tri-City!

Ever since I arrived home this evening I've been singing the above little ditty from Schoolhouse Rock. I'm sitting in plenty of light in my little home in Miami. Well into day 7 and I finally get it back. All of us at the house were ecstatic. and I am basking in my ability to see clearly.

You can see the difference in this very dark photo. This is the moment the giant tree in the back fell as we all sat in the living room and watched Wilma destroy the neighborhood. Things are starting to recover, however. I didn't know how much more darkness I could take but today has been a turning point for many of us who finally can work after dark.

Rehearsals are still run by generator power. We are working long hours with no air conditioning and a full chorus, so tensions run a little higher. Our chorus is amazing, however, and have worked their tails off this weekend. They are going to be spectacular because they all can act, they all react, and they all are committed to the production. Lillian told the chorus after rehearsal yesterday, "I think Doug (Kinney-Frost, the chorus master) should manufacture Florida Grand Chorus pills and sell them to opera companies around the country. He would make a mint!" Tis' true. We are blessed.

Blessed, but dealing with power issues every day.

Today wigs and makeup was doing fittings and they set their station up right in the doorway of the lobby so they would have enough light to do their work. The pic is of Jeff Buchman getting a head wrap made out of a Publix supermarket bag, so they could get the size of his head for wigs, since they couldn't have their entire stock in the doorway. We sat all over that well lit doorway for dinner as well, which was Greek food from across the street. The best Baklavah I've ever had. I'm not sure if it's because I haven't had well-made food in a while or because it really was that great, but it was making us all happy as we sat along the sidewalk with our styrofoam plates and shoveled warm food in our mouths.

This show will be ready and amazing if we can get into the theater in time. The boys sound great and the end, when they turn into a lynch mob, is truly terrifying. Thank god for the good days.

The Show Must Go On

The generator's working. We are all cranky at the opera, but dealing and continuing to rehearse as much as possible. We are laughing a lot - out of tension - but still laughing. The first picture is of our callboard at the rehearsal hall. A little humor goes a long way.

Yesterday eight of us piled into one car and drove to an electrically charged area to eat at Baja Fresh. We were like high school kids piled on top of one another and laughing hysterically but this is what keeps us sane. Lillian and I are still without power (she is worse off than me taking cold showers still. I, at least, have a gas-powered hot water heater).

This photo is a picture of a ton of us in front of our beloved generator on the first day of rehearsals. From right to left: Bob Heuer, our General Director, Les Greenwald, ?, Patrick Moss, our head of P.R., Patrick Hansen, Jody Gage, brilliant ASM, Sasha Vukovich, Andy Chugg, our sweet artistic administrator (who did "Fanciulla" at Glimmerglass and is having a hard time not doing it now), Vladimir Vukovich, our director of production, Doug Kinney-Frost, our chorus director, Chelsea Antrim, another brilliant ASM, Jeff Buchman, Billy Jackrabbit in "Fanciulla", Sherrie Dee Brewer, PSM extraordinaire!, Ivana Diez, another ASM, Fenna Ograjensek, Wowkle in "Fanciulla", Cassandra (our costume coordinator). We are surviving. We are eating, we are getting work done, our lives are continuing, however stressful and overwhelming. We are living in interesting times, in the Chinese sense.

There are cops directing traffic at the intersection in front of the rehearsal hall. During a break, all of the boys in the cast piled outdoors to get some sunlight while still wearing their gunbelts, with rifles slung over their shoulders and bowie knives attached to their belt. The cops were freaked out and in a frenzy until the whole thing was explained. We are living (all of us...cops included) in a surreal existence down here.

Change is coming. Thank god.

Aftermath

Hello all. I'm surviving in Miami. The pictures above are of the front of my house and my landlord's son, Brian, surveying the extensive damage in our neighborhood. I’ll backtrack a bit before moving forward. Early on the morning of October 24th, Wilma hit Southern Florida as a fast-moving Category 3 hurricane. Though it was not nearly as devastating as Katrina in the gulf, or even Wilma itself in the Yucatan, it has still left an entire city (millions of people) without power, and the poor people of Ft. Lauderdale with not much of anything. This was the worst disaster in Ft. Lauderdale’s history. Some thoughts I wrote down as the hurricane passed overhead:

10/24/05 5:30am

I’m sitting on my doorstep (to the rest of the house). It’s farthest from my front door. The electricity went out for good about 5 minutes ago after flickering on and off for a good hour.

Brian’s playing Monopoly by candlelight with two girls. Their discussions have become more and more heated. I was watching a video of Dave Chapelle with the other three guys at this particular hurricane party when the electricity finally went away. So now I’m in here.

Through the corner of the window on my front door, I can see the trees thrashing around and I know this is just the beginning. The eye was supposed to make landfall just after 6am. and we haven’t even begun to feel hurricane force winds.

I’m almost too tired to be scared. Perhaps that was the advantage of staying up all night.

Every once in a while there are blue flashes of light indicating another wounded transformer in the area. I cannot begin to fathom what the winds will be like when the eyewall passes by us. My fellow hurricane partiers don’t seem worried. They are too caught up in their Monopoly game.

I, however, have no history with this. I have no reference point, and so I watch the trees and wonder how they could possibly bend any lower.

I wonder how much light comes through all of this mayhem when the sun comes up?

I am worried for my cat, who has been sniffing the air like mad tonight. He is maybe smelling the ionization, or perhaps fear and despair blowing in from the West.

The news has dubbed Florida the “Here we go Again” state. I wonder how anyone could live through this kind of anxiety more than once.

8:05am

I’m in my shower. Terrified. Everyone else is screaming through the house, equally terrified. Brian tells me this is much worse than he thought it would be. More like Andrew than Katrina. I’ve never heard such violent wind. It sounds like a jet plane taking off. I can’t keep my cat in the bathroom. 45 minutes ago I walked into the living room just in time to see a full grown palm tree come flying towards the back bay windows. It was “Final Destination,” it was a near-death experience. It smashed into the side of the house and everyone screamed bloody murder.

It’s a constant barrage of thunder against the house. I can feel the whole structure vibrating and the pipes on the toilet are clanking together.

I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.

10/25/05

So today is the first full day of reconstruction (as the news told me while I was basking in the electricity at Sherrie Dee’s house). They have been telling everyone not to expect electricity for a full week, maybe more. I don’t know how to live without it. I don’t have a car charger for my phone so I can’t power up anything until I have lights. I can’t drive to Sherrie’s every day because it took me an hour and I only have a half tank left of gasoline. Once I run out of gas I’m shit out of luck because, if there’s no electricity, the gas pumps don’t work.

Patrick Hansen, at the opera, tells me that there’s a gas pump working over by the rehearsal studio, but every working gas pump I saw on my way around town today is encumbered by a line from hell.

There are trees all over the neighborhood. I had to drive up on the sidewalk to get out of here this morning. I think Miami Springs got it the worst in terms of downed tree (excepting Ft. Lauderdale of course). Yesterday, as the sky cleared and the winds died down, I watched everyone go outside and begin to saw through their broken trees. As it were, there are four down in our yard but Brian wants to wait until his parents get home before doing anything about them.

Thank god my car is fine. (albeit hoping gas will be available soon).

As for the opera… who knows. I worked through a tentative schedule for the rest of the week with Sherrie Dee while I was charging stuff at her place. Then, tonight that got shot all to hell. Patrick called her and said that a generator had been donated to them and they were going to set it up in the morning. They’ve suggested two sessions tomorrow using the minimum amount of people possible because the generator will not produce a lot of light.

We’re not sure what to do about that since everything that still needs to be staged includes everyone. Also, two of our singers (one who is in every scene) were out of town for a few days and now they’re stranded, unable to get into Miami, so we can’t rehearse with them at all. So, we are rehearsing the same damn thing we’ve been rehearsing and hoping to god that the electricity comes back on soon so that we can begin to put this whole thing together.

I’m worried about the generator. About having enough extension cords to hook up all those lights. I’m worried about the fact that the bathrooms will be in the dark and they’ll have to fill them with candles so people can see what they’re doing. I’m worried that the light will not be enough to make that precarious set safe. I’m worried that the generator will not work at all and we’ll lose yet another day of time. We open in 16 days mind you. I’m worried that AGMA will have a fit if we’re rehearsing in subpar conditions (or one of the singers will). I’m worried about Lillian being okay with all of this.

I don’t know how it’s going to turn out. For the time being I’m just trying to roll with the punches, but that’s going to get harder and harder as I grow weary of this inability to communicate and this incessant darkness.

After Wilma

I'm recovering from Wilma. There's lots to say but I only have a few minutes of internet time so it will have to wait. Suffice to say, I'm still in the dark (as are 400,000 of my fellow Miamians). We are using a generator to conduct rehearsals.

The Show Must Go On!

More later.....

The Tree I'm Worried About (and other reasons I'm obsessing)

This is the huge, vine-covered, weeping tree in the front yard of my little apartment. Please think good thoughts that it will still be standing. Every other tree in the neigborhood can snap at the roots, but this one needs to stay up!

Brian, my landlord's son, put down the hurricane shutters this morning. The wind has picked up a bit and when you're standing outside, all you can hear are drills and hammers as people shutter all of their windows. The cats are restless and the clouds are moving quickly. Every once in a while, the sun peeks through and everything seems normal for that brief moment.



The only window not covered, of course, is mine. Brian claims that it is shatter-proof and should withstand the hurricane. It makes me infinitely nervous to leave it unprotected but I'm not sure what I can do at this point. That's Lucius staring out at me. I think he wonders why I'm acting like such a ninny. I have a big shower in a little bathroom and I am planning on holing up in there if anything horrid happens. I hope all of the other Northerners and Midwesterners down here working on "Fanciulla" are faring as well as I am and have all the provisions they need.

Here it comes....

Incredible Blog!

Just read the following blog. Incredible. Read it and look at the haunting photographs. I guarantee you won't be dissapointed.


Operation Eden

A Day in the Life of a Florida Grand A.D.

I just finished petting my cat (see the pic to the left). Having moments with Lucius is how I finish up most of my days in Miami. I'm not hugely social down here, it's too hard to get around. I don't have any money, my boyfriend is three thousand miles away, and so I sit in my arm chair and pet my cat. I don't think he minds. I thought I'd use today's post to give a rundown of my day for people who aren't in the opera business. Was today typical? Mostly methinks.

I'm up at 7:45 in the morning. Not being a morning person, the tiny travel alarm clock with the four-year-old battery worries me a bit. As I settle into Miami better (and this bloody hurricane goes away) I have a feeling I'm going to start sleeping through its meager signal and then we're all in trouble. If I jump right out of bed I have time for coffee and maybe a chapter or two in a book that has nothing to do with opera. If not, it's all business: feed the cat, shower, eat a bite, make the bed, make sure that cat takes a leak in the litter box, pack up my score, leave.

It's a twenty-five minute drive to work (if no drawbridges decide to rise, no trains pass, and I run into very few meandering Cuban drivers with nothing better to do on at 9:00 in the morning than drive in front of me). Radio stations are nonexistant here unless you want hip hop or latin rhythms, so I always try to have my iPod charged. Today it was Elvis Costello all the way there.

I'm at work by 9:15 so I can get a parking spot. I don't have one with my name on it and they are generally filled by 9:30. After that, it's a free-for-all in the surrounding neighborhood. I'm at an advantage because I'm willing to walk more than a block to work but I feel sorry for those lazy slobs who have to park at a meter and run out ever two hours to feed it (don't you do just as much leg work running back and forth as walking the extra two blocks to park in a free spot??? Whatever..).

My office is on the first floor but it feels like a basement with low ceilings, badly put-in carpeting that is wrinkled in four directions and a very flimsy door. I lock it at night but I'm not really sure what good it does. Sherrie Dee and her ASMs are even further into the dregs, behind another door and into an area covered over in pipes and insulation. I feel like I work in a warehouse. Anyway, I throw my stuff down, then walk around the corner and say hello to Chelsea, Jody and Sherrie Dee, the stage management staff, who are always there before me. (They say they live on the beach, but I'm not so sure....)

If I'm lucky, I get a little work done on my score in the hour and fifteen minutes before rehearsals begin. Today, however, my mother called to tell me that my grandmother is in the hospital and that, coupled with my obsessive map watching of Hurricane Wilma's path, left me with barely ten minutes to get my stuff together before we started staging. Tons of people stop in to wave or chat as I sit behind my desk. I can see them coming down the hall from where I sit so I know whether to act really busy or not. Brad, the musical assistant, dropped off an Eddie Izzard DVD today, and Felicity, who worked with me at Chicago Opera Theater, chatted for a little while as well. Andrew Chugg, the artistic administrator, came by when I first arrived to worry out loud about whether or not Lillian (our director) would be able to get in the building or not since it's locked on Saturdays. I informed him that I had a key made for her. I'm so good at quelling fears.

Oh, and by the way, my grandmother is okay as of right now, for those of you who were wondering. She's getting a pace maker installed but I have high hopes that she will be around a little longer.

10:30 is the beginning of the first rehearsal. Today we were working on Act II from Dick Johnson getting shot up until the end of the act. We started with Mikhail Agafonov and Elizabeth Blanke-Biggs, trying to figure out the path between him falling against the door and her hiding him in the loft. Mr. Agafonov is a trooper, flopping all over the uneven stage and acting wounded through some very difficult music. We, in fact, took ten minutes to run the music of this tiny bit of opera so that they could concentrate on the staging without losing their places. Lillian likened this part in the music to Stravinsky. After listening to it again, I can see where she's coming from. I find it very hard to make sure I know what's going on from the corner in which I am crammed most of the time. Since Act II only takes place on the central platform, I find myself climbing all over the set with my score to get a better look. During the poker game, I stood up on two chairs or sat at the onstage bar to see over the top of the table. I'm like a monkey, climbing all over the set, or a cat, sniffing out the smallest, most unnoticeable place to sit where I can still survey the entire room.

At first break, Sherrie and I talk about the schedule changing to accomodate the hurricane passing through. We hope they're right so we don't lose a day of rehearsal. I also run and call my dad to check on my grandmother, and look through my score so I can be ready for all of the blocking coming up in the next hour and a half. Lillian runs across the street for a bottle of water and brings me one too. She also brings a huge box of pastries for the singers sitting out in the lobby. The fastest way to a singer's heart is through their stomach.

Rance comes in for the last half of rehearsal, but waits for a bit as we finish up with Johnson. There's a bit where he throws a gun on the bed and Sherrie is worried that it will bounce off and hit Elizabeth or go into the pit. The maestro and singers make jokes about it hitting the violists (I personally could have laughed the same way about it hitting the soprano....but I digress). Ms. Blanke-Biggs exclaims that it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. We get right up to the poker game and Sherrie Dee calls for lunch.

Lunch is spent in my office. Today is actually the first time as the last three days Lillian and I have spent it in Sherrie's office watching the Glimmerglass video. Today we are taking respite at our respective desks. We start out with a conversation about our ever-changing schedule, then I call Bruce, the fight director, and give him the lowdown on next week. I check my email, check on Wilma (like a schizophrenic sister that I have to make sure is still alive..), and call my mom again. As I eat my peanut butter and work on my score, Lillian and I talk about the singers, their progress, what we need to work on. I am entranced by her stories of the building she's staying in and her impressions of Miami (Horrible!). I tell her that I sent my resume to Glimmerglass and she calls the Artistic supervisor there to remind him to take a look. Lillian could be responsible for a huge boost in my career and so I sit and enjoy lunch with her and giggle with her about anything and everything.

Patrick, one of our administrators, brought his 6-year-old son into rehearsals today. This little boy was enchanted with the production and told Lillian that the only improvement that could be made was to have Dick Johnson enter on a horse on wheels. Patrick told us that his son, at lunch, told him that he thought the show would be excellent because of his suggestion. Lillian and I thought so too. Lillian told Patrick to bring the little boy in as much as he could. Fresh opinions brings smiles to everyone's faces. We need them desperately as we get further into the rehearsal process.

Lunch ends and we are back in the studio for another three hours. I have not seen daylight since I arrived at work. More scheduling conversations on breaks and some more minor discussions of the hurricane and its projected path. We finish the act except for a minor bit in the center involving most of the cast. Rance and Minnie are stymied by the intense poker game at the end. They practice over and over but keep fumbling the cards and dropping them as they try to shuffle. Minnie keeps forgetting to cut the deck between hands and, when she gets really caught up in the cards, starts singing the baritone's lines. By the end they have all erupted into laughter and Elizabeth has her head on the table, her black hair falling all around the strewn cards. Only her shoulders are moving. Anthony Michaels-Moore (who Lillian calls "Michael" because of his last name, to which Anthony responds by calling Lillian "Doris" in his charming British accent) sits on the other side of the table very patiently, waiting for Elizabeth to get over her poker-induced nervous breakdown.

Despite, we are in good shape. The cast is working on the actual set with actual props. The schedule problems seem to be calming down as most of the people who were released will be back on Monday. We all seem to like each other well enough, and I am making some very good contacts it seems.

6:00 rolls around and I ask everyone if they need anything from me. When scheduling was driving us up a wall, Sherrie and I would talk for another hour and a half before I left, but today I got out of there scot free. I forgot to call Bruce again, but will do that in the morning. I jumped in my car in this horrid humidity, stopped by the grocery, and came home to feed and pet my cat. The evening would generally be spent by cleaning up my score and working on the Who/What/Where, but tonight I've decided to take an evening off.

Now it's two days off and I'm going to spend it riding out Wilma. Cross your fingers for me. I'd much rather be in the throes of rehearsal than here at home watching trees get ripped out of the ground.

Fears (Left Over From Childhood..)

This is it. What you see above me is a forecast of what and when will be passing over my head in the next couple of days. The good news for us is that it is spending so much time over the Yucatan that they think it will dissipate quite a bit by the time it reaches Florida. They also think it will cross Central Florida as opposed to Southern, which makes the impact on Miami much less. (Not such good news for the Yucatan).

I'm terrified of storms. I went through a major tornado when I was eight years old and it left an indelible mark on my nervous system. The idea of mother nature wreaking havoc on my home puts me in an instant state of panic. Then, after watching so much horror on television during Katrina and Rita, the idea of experiencing that myself puts me on edge. I am trying to take it easy, to realize that the locals here know how to deal with this, to understand that all I can do is be prepared, but the pit of my stomach is still churning at the thought that, in moving to a place in order to avoid horrible storms, I have suddenly come here for a short period of time and dropped myself in the middle of one.

It's peppering the rehearsal process as well. This is not just logistically, though the scheduling continues to be a nightmare. People are noticeably on edge. They are erupting when they wouldn't normally, they stand outside on breaks and look at the ominous sky and ask if it's started raining constantly. The office staff is going crazy trying to decide when our two free days are to ensure that they fall right during when the storm will be passing over (an impossible task). I hate worrying about this when trying to put together a show. It shouldn't feel like a life and death situation but we all saw the footage a few months ago and, like the thought of getting on airplane after 9/11, we are dreading the worst if it happens to be bestowed upon us.

So....I'm trying to enjoy what I can. Yesterday we rehearsed a duet between "Rance" and "Minnie," where this poor man pours his heart out to the woman he is in love with and she tells him "absolutely not." Anthony Michaels-Moore, our "Rance," is so heartfelt in every word he says, it makes me well up to watch him be rejected when it's taken him so long to finally express his feelings. He stands behind her and asks for one kiss - he'll give her all the treasures he possesses for one kiss ("Or per un bacio tuo getto un tesoro!"), and as he reaches into her she comes back with, "L'amore e un'altra cosa" (real love is not like that). He is crushed, devestated. He's been scolded by her; she tells him that the love he is feeling is not real. It's anguish that he's in and I'm sitting, crushed against the side, trying to pretend that I haven't started to tear up. If I'm getting that emotional in the rehearsal room, I don't want to know what opening night will be like.

And so rehearsals go on. Thank heavens I can still get caught up. I only have to worry about real life in the in between times.

Blame it on Wilma

So here it is: Day two of staging rehearsals at Florida Grand. The above picture is yet another photo of John Conklin's set crammed into our rehearsal hall. This one is the best, however, because you can see our set up. That's my music stand and Lillian's music stand right next to the tech table. Sherrie Dee, our PSM, sets up in the corner on the opposite side of the table. Notice how close we all are to the edge of the set. The stage (and most of the action) actually extands out six feet from the front of the set, so we spend most of our time plastered up against the wall. We get to know each other really fast in this business. Oh, and just for kicks we decided to put Maestro and the piano aaaaaallll the way across the room (see that black speck in the opposite corner?). Andrew Bisantz, the assistant conducter, and I have a great time communicating from 1/4 mile away.

Today's tension level was much higher than yesterday. Our fight choreographer noticed it (even bought Sherrie and I chocolate mousse because we looked like we needed a treat), and I was feeling it. I'm blaming it all on Wilma. She's putting everyone a bit on edge since we aren't sure if we'll be losing a rehearsal date to her hurricane winds or not. Not to mention the fact that most of us working on this production aren't from Florida and many haven't ever been in a hurricane. (Dean Anthony, our "Nick" yells across the room yesterday evening, "The first hint of a warning I hear, I am packed up, in my car, and out of here!") My landlords have been so nice, giving me the lowdown on waiting out a hurricane, telling me that the house will survive and everyone is going to be fine. I need reassurance while I calm my natural phobia of storms (ask my brothers about the violence I would bring forth if anyone changed the tv from the weather channel during a storm when we were kids).

The tension was exacerbated by continuous scheduling snafus and confusions. Every production has an issue that just will not die and the daily schedule fits the bill for "Fanciulla." If it's not miscommunication about who appears in what scene, it's conflicts that no one on the production staff could possibly predict. For instance, today a photo shoot for Ms. Blanke-Biggs was scheduled at the exact time that we were to start rehearsals (you can see the photographer setting up in the above photograph). All of us were standing around and Lillian was pacing and I was getting more and more stressed by the instant. Some days just aren't meant to turn out the way you want them to.

In better news, the show is going to look great! Mikhail Agafonov, our "Johnson," is a dear with a beautiful voice and sweet dimples, our boys seem willing, and the staging is going well since the singers get to experience the uniqueness of the set as they learn the show. I also got the best compliment I've ever received from Lillian Groag today. She told someone from the opera that I was "Excellent, excellent, excellent," and that she's shouted my name from the rooftops to opera companies all over the country telling them to "bag me now!" I think I blushed from head to toe, but with the day I was having at that point, I really needed it.

Thank god for that, and thank god for Sherrie Dee who, at the end of the day, was there to receive my bitching and blabbering. It's such an amazing thing to be able to laugh with your coworkers no matter what kind of job you have.

Because I feel like it, I'm ending this post with a relevant quote from Azar Nafisi ("Reading Lolita in Tehran")

Times of peace often bring to the surface the extent of the damage, placing in the foreground the gaping craters where houses used to be. It is then that hte muted voices, the evil spirits that had been trapped in the bottle, fly out in different directions.

I'm a Sucker (Lucius knew)

So I'm in the Winn-Dixie parking lot on Coral and 17th buying water and non-perishable food items in prepration for a lil' hurricane to come creeping by on Saturday, when across the front of my path comes a full litter of six cats. They've climbed out of the bushes on the far side of the lot and are all sitting in various places on the blacktop, licking their paws and looking nonchalant. I am as mesmerized by them as they are by my blinding headlights.

As I drive forward, they lackidaisically move back into the bushes and I am left to think about thier fate as this huge storm passes over the area. I hate strays (I hate SEEING strays rather . . . if it were up to me, all strays would live in my house).

I am reminded of my acquisition of Lucius, rather, his acquisition of me. I was in the parking lot of an Osco Drug in Columbia, Missouri, when this skinny white cat comes bounding across the parking lot out of nowhere and jumps in my front seat. He chose me. It was love at first site. I chose him right back and I thank god that I did. He is so sensitive - he could never have survived on his own.

I wish I could have given these kitties homes. As it were, I took their picture for posterity. I hope, hope, hope they're safe.

P'raps There's Hope

Missouri lost a Supreme Court ruling Monday and now must take a prison inmate to a St. Louis clinic for an abortion.

The inmate celebrated victory while a governor trying to burnish his pro-life credentials fumed.

A few posts ago I linked to an article stating that the Supreme Court had put a hold on a Missouri judge's decision that a prison inmate in Kansas City should be transported to an abortion clinic. It was disheartening to see but now that the actual ruling has come through (and apparently unanimous), I am feeling hopeful about what might be coming in the next few years.

The part of this whole debacle that really stinks is the Missouri law. If you look at the first article, the timeline looks a bit suspicious to me. This woman was arrested in California right after she found out she was pregnant in July. She tried to get an abortion before being extradited to Missouri, but she was rushed back to her arresting state where they had just passed legislation (rushed through in JULY) that Missourians could not spend tax dollars to transport an inmate to get an abortion, therefore making it impossible for her to get to a clinic.

Maybe I'm just an incredible cynic, but something seems a little fishy to me. Thank god that the supreme court recognized the Missouri law's infringement on a woman's right to choose.

I'm glad I don't live in that state anymore (no offence to my parents, who have a beautiful farm).

. . . That's a Very Good Place to Start

So it's finally starting - rehearsals that is. I've been in Miami for a week and rehearsals are just starting. I'm not so into the whole prep week thing, but rehearsals I can do. I really feel like I'm in my element here.

The opera is "La Fanciulla Del West" (The Girl of the Golden West) by Puccini. It's based on a play by David Belasco, but this is basically Puccini's idea of what the Gold Rush of 1849 must have been like. The music has inspired so many people. I hear bits and pieces of the Westerns from the fifties and sixties in it as well as "Music of the Night" from "Phantom," which Andrew Lloyd Weber lifted directly from "Fanciulla's" score. It's good stuff. Plus, Lillian Groag is directing it, which will make it all the more interesting.

The photos you see here are pictures of John Conklin's set stuffed into the rehearsal hall at Florida Grand Opera. The monstrosity of gold mining equipment and old, tatty furniture on tons of lumber barely fits inside the rehearsal hall, yet here it is. The artistic team is plastered up against the wall, barely able to see what's going on, yet here it is. Despite it's unsavory parts, having a full set like this for rehearsals is a real luxury. The floor is really uneven and easy to trip over so it will be a boon for the singers the have the opportunity to get used to the space before they are hurled onto the stage and have to sing in front of an audience. Bruce Lecure, the fight director, and I spent the entire morning discussing how exactly he was going to take care of the fights since he doesn't have enough space to stage them properly in the rehearsal hall. We lose about four feet of front space in there because of the rest of the set. He's going to have his hands full with all of these clumsy boys, a dangerous set, and oodles of proposed violence within the score.

No matter how tiring, frustrating, and long this day was with a production meeting, music rehearsals and all sorts of Snafus involving schedule (a never-ending nightmare it seems), it was a good day because I got to meet Lillian. She is such a joy and I've only known her for five hours. She is energetic and sweet and witty and the first thing we did when we got into the production meeting was clap me on the leg, rub my back vigorously and laugh. It's as if I was an old friend she hadn't seen in ten years. We sat together through the entire musical run through and I took various notes for her and got to watch her mind work as she became familiar with the singers, followed along with her score, lost her water, took fifteen minutes trying to extract a kleenex quietly from her purse while people were singing. She is a brilliant mess and I have a feeling it will be a true pleasure to keep her on track.

So, things are looking up. I'm past the massive paperwork (only revisions are due now), I like the people I'm working for. I'm getting to know the city. Yesterday I went to Miami Beach and went swimming with the musical assistant and the ensemble director from the opera. It's great to suddenly feel included. If you can't tell by this post, I was feeling a bit isolated over the last few days. Thank god that's changed. The first day of a rehearsal, to me, is always good foreshadowing of things to come. If it's a disaster then I get a little scared, if it's not then I start to feel optimisitc.

Feeling really optimistic right now...

Driving in Miami

So, in an earlier post I spoke about the perils of driving in Miami and the beauty of the sunsets as I make my way home from work every night. Here are four photos that demonstrate both of those things (though the traffic was not horrible as I drove home on Friday). These are photos of the glorious sunset as I drove home along 22nd street through Little Havana and onto Northwest River drive. There is one photo of the "Captain's Cafeteria" on River Drive where I watched the sun dip below the boat masts while waiting for a drawbridge to close after letting a huge yacht sail through in the tiny inlet.

Thank god for the small beauties in life.

Today it is raining so no sunset I fear, but it's fine because I am at home all day cleaning house and tying up loose ends. My landlord has invited me to dinner this evening so I am looking forward to a home cooked meal.

Rehearsals begin Monday. Yikes is all I can say right now.

Our Worst Fears?

It's Already Starting. . .

Because I'm Feeling Political Today

As the bumper sticker says: "Doing my best to piss off the religious right."

Bush - Champion of the Environment

So, I'm on my way to work, listening to NPR, and I hear a short passing news bite in the business report that says that Bush released a statement today that the government is relaxing the requirements by the EPA's New Source Review that require gross polluting industrial plants to clean up their emissions. They say they are relaxing these in lieu of a new series of regulations that ask for a decrease of emissions over large areas as a whole instead of with individual polluters, therefore allowing groups of plants to decide who has to clean up their act and who doesn't. Really, the government is favoring industry and keeping up its profits instead of the environment. The federal government is forcing the EPA to back down in terms of enforcing NSR regulations on gross polluting plants and in their statement they say that these new rules will be better for the environment in the long run.

I can't seem to find anything about this on any online news sites. I haven't really looked very hard since I am at work, but it wasn't in the immediate, easily accessible places.

Something really stinks.

Who? What? Where? (paperwork sucks..)

For the past two days I have been holed up in a tiny office in the basement of the Arturo di Filippi Educational Center in Miami, where Florida Grand Opera has its home. Preparing for an opera is mounds of paperwork - sheets and sheets of organization that the public has no idea about. Today was a nine hour day of me sitting in front of my laptop filling in spreadsheet after spreadsheet after spreadsheet. I think the paperwork may be even more difficult when you are recreating an opera (as we are doing now) because you aren't starting with your own work, you are trying to decipher someone else's spreadsheets. It makes my eyes bug out just thinking about it.

I think the most heinous of these sheets is a chunk of paper called the "Who/What/Where." This is basically a list of everything that happens during the run of a show: who comes on the stage, who leaves the stage, what they are wearing, what side of the stage they leave their props, where the curtain comes in, where the quick change happens, etc. This is all listed with precise timings and score notations so that an entire show track can be read from said sheet. It's a monstrosity of paperwork and the specificity is mind boggling. We have two of them that we are looking at for this show right now (we haven't yet begun rehearsals mind you). One is from the original time the production was done and one is from the run in New York last year. What has my panties all in a twist today is that there is no possible way to reconcile these separate who/what/wheres. They are completely different in every way and that either means that the show changed considerably from one house to the other, or someone is doing really shoddy paper work.

Either way, I'm feeling a bit screwed right now.

Ah, the glamorous world of show business. Paperwork and filing, cleaning up other people's shoddy work, sucking down coffee while staring at a computer screen for hours on end. Gee...I might as well be at your job.

John Doin' His Thang

This is a photo of my boyfriend shooting a site-specific dance concert last week. He's so talented and he doesn't even know it (cute too)...

Big Trucks are Heinous, but Sunsets are Pretty.

So here I am in humid, oppressive, third world Miami, Florida! I don't know . . . maybe I'm overselling it.

No, actually, I thought for the first time today that I might actually be able to get used to this place. I learned two things about Miami and myself while I was sitting in my car on the way home from Florida Grand Opera, where I had my first day of work.

One, I learned that I really, really can't stand people who drive those two-story pickup trucks and those totally oversized SUVs. They are pushy, inconsiderate bullies with no sense of space and I can't see the traffic lights around them and when they put their brakes on I have no idea why because I can't see in front of them. I'm looking for the Winn-Dixie on Coral Way so that I can buy some coffee and I'm behind this asshole in a truck who keeps slamming on his brakes for god knows why and I can't see around him and I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As I pull around him and into the parking lot I notice he's on his cell phone and there is nobody in front of him, hence no reason for the brake lights. The frustrating part of the traffic in this city is that everyone drives one of these unapologetic monstrosities and they all drive like they're in a third world country. Everyone is swerving all over the road with no signal and every other road is torn up for repairs, so it takes me ages to get mere blocks in my sweaty, unairconditioned vehicle. AAAAaaaaaargh!

Two (if you can remember what I was listing after that rant), I learned that Miami sunsets are even more beautiful than anyone could possibly have ever described to me. Again, I'm driving West on Coral Way coming home to Miami Springs from work, and I have a LOT of time to look at the sky because of the oppressive traffic. We're under this huge canopy of banyon trees and I can see the sunlight blasting through the leaves into my eyes, and as I come out of the tree covering, a cloud moves across the sun and these pink god rays shoot in every direction and I'm left in awe staring at this incredibly shaped cloud refracting the light into vibrant colors not unlike the buildings in South Beach and I think, "This is why people live here."

Maybe the one will eventually cancel out the other. Either that or it's time for me to start trying the side streets for an easier way around.

I miss my boyfriend. Nothing is ever going to cancel that out. Not even the most gorgeous sunset in eternity.

More work tomorrow. . . it hasn't gotten exciting yet but lord knows I'll let everyone know when it does!

A Booklist for my Brother on His 13th Birthday

Books are becoming a lost pasttime in this ever-sped-up society of video games and television reality shows. My brother's 13th birthday is on Thursday and it's got me thinking about what I read when I was a teenager; what changed my world view, my confidence, my imagination when I was coming of age. The following is a list of literature - nonfiction and fiction alike - compiled by my boyfriend and I as we thought about what we would want a young boy to read and learn from as he passes through his teenage years.

In no particular order (Isaac - ask if you want to know what they're about.):

"A People's History of the United States" - Howard Zinn
"To Kill a Mockingbird" - Harper Lee
"Catcher in the Rye" - J.D. Salinger
"A Separate Peace" - John Knowles
"Animal Farm" & "Down and Out in Paris and London" - George Orwell
"The Jungle" - Upton Sinclair
"Call It Sleep" - Henry Roth
"The Red Badge of Courage" - Stephen Crane
"The Outsiders" - S.E. Hinton
"Siddhartha" - Herman Hesse
"The Alchemist" - Paulo Cohelo
"Night" - Elie Wiesel
"Slaughterhouse 5" - Kurt Vonegut
"Warriors Don't Cry" - Melba Beals
"Farenheit 451" - Ray Bradbury
"The Last of the Mohicans" - James Fenimore Cooper
"Robinson Crusoe" - Daniel DaFoe
"La Morte D'Arthur" - Sir Thomas Malory
"Diary of a Young Girl" - Anne Frank
"Cry, The Beloved Country" - Alan Paton
"The Pearl," "Of Mice and Men" and "East of Eden" - John Steinback
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" - Betty Smith
"Dracula" - Bram Stoker
"Two Years Before the Mast" - Richard Dana
"Hound of the Baskervilles" - Arthur Conan Doyle
Anything by Mark Twain!
"Heart of Darkness" - Joseph Conrad
"The Odyssey" - Homer
"Native Son" - Richard Wright
Bullfinch's Mythology
"Blackbriar" - William Sleator
"Are you there God? It's Me, Margaret" - Judy Blume
"Bloodletters and Badmen" - J. Robert Nash
"Catwatching" - Desmond Morris
"Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - Robert Pirsig
"Life in a Medieval City" - Joseph Gies
"The New Book of Lists" - David Wallechinsky
"Lend Me Your Ears: Great Speeches in History" - William Safire
"Brave New World" - Aldous Huxley
"Black Like Me" - John Howard Griffen
"Cosmos" - Carl Sagan

All of these books shaped who John and I are and will be. Books are so important for our imagination and life. As Isaac grows I hope that he can read and learn through anything he picks up, and that he will devour books as if they are his sustenance. Happy Birthday Bro.

Feel free to add to this list by commenting. I would love to know what books changed lives for other people.

Miami is Nice . . . So I'll Say it Twice . . .

Every once in a while, I arrive in a city and feel instantly at home. I connect with the environment, I instinctively know my way around, I feel like moving there and existing in that place forever.

Miami is not one of those cities.

I arrived here yesterday afternoon after a grueling 6-day car ride in an unairconditioned vehicle. My boyfriend and I were exhausted and hungry and looking for a respite for a day and a half before he flies back to San Diego. The good thing is that my room is very sweet and comfortable, and my landlords seem like wonderful people. They made us dinner. Miryam made John coffee this morning and brought it in with cream and sugar. They piled us into their car last night and we drove all around Little Havana so I could see where I was going to work and what was around. I am infinitely grateful to them for their hospitality while I am in this place. You can see me and my cat in my new surroundings in the two photos. Obviously Lucius has adapted quicker than me.


The bad thing is that it's bloody hot and so muggy that I'm wiping water off of my arms every few minutes. It's not a very clean city and it seems like nothing ever truly dries out. Also, the culture of Miami exists on a plane that I don't necessarily jive with. The Latino culture (Cuban culture?) is very loud and boisterous and full of smells and sounds that my North German roots don't take in easily. While I love the music and the pride of the people, I am troubled by their lack of spatial awareness and a speed of life that is about ten to fifteen notches slower than the big city pace to which I am so accustomed. Much of this, to be sure, is a result of living in intense heat and sunlight, where the mind and body instintively slow down, and perhaps I will fall into this over the next few months as well. Right now, however, I am tripping over people and having trouble sorting out the chaos of my surroundings.

I will adapt to all of this, though I do not think I will ever be excited about the club culture here. I also don't think my mind will slow down enough to overlook spatial unawareness. We'll see. As of right now I just want to start work so I can be more productive and less whiny.

Scenes from a Road Trip

John and I are here in Demopolis, Alabama, tonight. I'm on my way to Miami with my cat and boyfriend so I can start a six month stint with Florida Grand Opera. It's been interesting thus far, with one tire nearly blowing out in New Mexico, unbelievable heat in West Texas, and close encounters with people dealing with Katrina. Behold the following photos (in no particular order):


Ummmm....Yeah. So we saw a sign for Chunky, MS, and there was no way we were going to pass that one by.

We stopped off at Vicksburg National Battlefield in Mississippi. We are both Civil War buffs and it was great to take the time to drive through. I was amazed that the Union trenches were still visible!



Here's John driving through Western Alabama. Outside are fields and fields of ravaged forests. Trees were split in two and whole forests were decimated. This was unbelievable to see, especially so far North. Even more unbelievable was our evening i Dallas at the Motel 6. There were families there who had been living there a month. John met one guy at the ice machine who said they were in Shreveport, tried to go home but were turned back by the National Guard, and then ended up in Dallas because it was the only place with a hotel room. I've never felt so lucky. I watched these people, desperate, unhappy, lost, wandering around the parking lot in a daze. A couple of them had jobs already but most were just feeling hopeless - and it showed. My ills seem so small in comparison.

The heat was incredible in an unairconditioned car as we made our way across the sunbaked deserts in Arizona, New Mexico and West Texas. This photo from Willcox, NM, is particularly indicative.

West Texas, besides being bloody hot, was also full of oil pumps and refineries. It smelled like gas and cow dung. This was my least favorite part of the trip thus far. Today was the best! It can only get better as we head down through Alabama and into Florida.

More later after I get to Miami

Local Politics

Donna Frye and Jerry Sanders, San Diego's two candidates for mayor, have begun their big preparations for November's runoff election with their first debate held at UCSD's Price Center. I was lucky to have a boyfriend who was shooting the debate in its entirety for UCSD-TV, so I got to sit in the booth and watch the whole thing. (I actually got to stand at the podium before the debate so they could check lights, and check on the candidates before they walked on stage . . . it's good to know people at the top . . . but I digress).

I don't claim to be an authority on local politics. I DO know that Dick Murphy was corrupt and our city was being run and supported by outsiders who were more interested in protecting the interests of the developers than of the people. I know the mayor's office has been full of problems for years and this is why Dick Murphy resigned and we are having this run-off in the first place. Anyway, I was interested to learn more about these candidates during the debate. I had not made up my mind about either of them going in.

I'm still just as confused about who I want to back.

I know Donna Frye is the candidate backed by most of the liberal citizenry (I wrote her name in during the last election), and I know Jerry Sanders is backed by all of the old Dick Murphy supporters, which instantly makes me suspicious. I feel like Donna is the one I should instantly be behind, but there are some things she said that made me a bit suspicious.

Actually, both candidates I think have a hard time finding things they disagree with. Everything they differ on sits in the "small potatoes" category as far as I can tell. They were right there together on the Charger's stadium and on affordable housing (a bullshit topic if you ask me. Everyone claims to be interested in fixing the housing problem but never does a damn thing about it. John thinks that once a person becomes a homeowner, they forget to care about housing period).

However, when they were asked about restructuring the mayor's office and putting together a cabinet, Ms. Frye stated that she was planning to do a nationwide search for her cabinet. I guess this isn't a terrible thing, but I'm not sure it looks that great that Donna Frye doesn't have enough confidence in the people of San Diego to think there would be viable candidates here for her cabinet. I don't know how it's better to bring in people who have no idea about the needs of our community. Strike one, in my opinion.

The most egregious thing that Ms. Frye did, however, had to do with a question about the gay and lesbian community . . . and I am of course biased on this. She was asked what she feels is the mayor's office's role in gay and lesbian rights, and then was asked what events she has attended for the glbt community. She vacillated for a while, said she didn't understand the question, then said something that suspiciously sounded as if she didn't think the mayor's office could do anything for gay and lesbian rights. In terms of attendance, she said she couldn't remember and then mumbled a bit and said the gentleman could look at her calendar later if he wanted to know. Wrong answer.

Sanders was very eloquent in answering the question. He was, like every politician, a bit vague about how the mayor could help, but he did say that he would fight for equal rights for every one of his constituents He then listed off a string of glbt events that he attended and reminded the crowd of his track record of marching in the Pride Parade every year. Jerry looked very, very good.

Perhaps it seems silly, but San Diego has a very large glbt community for the size of the city and many of us were backers of Donna Frye. Her seemingly apathetic attitude towards this community could prove very detrimental to her election.

I, for one, am in the process of thinking twice.