About Me

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I blog. I also mother, wife, create, preserve, recycle, cook, act, quilt, exercise, laugh, write, lolligag, work, volunteer, sing, and sometimes sleep.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Me Me Me!


Lately, I've been having little meltdowns (on a more than normal basis) after my musical theater class. The last one was in front of my teacher, so to try to convince him that I am not a lunatic, I sent him an email. He responded with a very nice reply which of course made me break down again. I started to write back to him, but the more I wrote, the less like an appropriate email it seemed and the more like a blog entry it sounded. So I stopped mid paragraph and decided to write it out here. Thanks, y'all, for being free therapy.


I know I am talented. Sounds so conceited...especially in print...:) but I've always known I can act. I've been doing it since before I have memories, and I've always known I was good at it. It has always been the external things that have kept me down, so to speak. Body type, parents who aren't willing to take me to auditions or rehearsal, that sort of thing. The voice part has always been a struggle. Fifth grade, Ms. Sullivan's music class, warm ups...and my elementary school nemesis leaned forward and hissed "Ariella, you need to quiet down, your voice is terrible. Really, don't sing." Sadly, I kind of listened. I was still in the shows as long as I was at that school (til 8th grade), which were musicals, but I never sang out again. In junior high, I focused on just plain drama, and went to my high school planning on the same. I fell into the musical theater class to get out of doing PE, as was my option, and had the good fortune of being taught by 2 incredible people who absolutely kindled my love affair with the musical. I actually remember being asked by the principal, who was doing my schedule (it was a small magnet start up then), "You're here for drama, do you want to do Musical Theater Workshop as your PE requirement?" My response? "What's Musical Theater?". Heh. He explained that it meant Broadway Style shows, and being as I had been in plenty, and being as I had just come from a junior high where PE meant running around the giant grass field, I said yes straightaway.


High school was fantastic. I loved it a lot...I never made it into the smaller, fall productions, as I didn't have nearly the voice to compete with the incredibly talented folks who were favored by the powers that were, but I did do all the Drama performances, and I was in the larger Spring musicals as part of the ensemble. I knew that the director would have liked to cast me with a bigger part, but since I was unwilling to lose the weight he and the school counselor suggested I lose, and since even with him working with me my voice wasn't nearly as strong as the other girls with similar body types, I got ensemble. There are no small parts, only small actors, I was told repeatedly...and I took what I got and worked my booty off. I felt a little vindicated when I was the person he called the summer after graduation to fill in for a role in a show he was directing at a CLO...but it would have been nice to get some bigger parts in high school. Just sayin'.


One place I have always felt confident singing has been camp. When I was a CIT, I was singing a camp song during the slideshow we always had after the dance, and the now husband of the counselor I was paired with turned and looked at me and earnestly said "Share that gift, babe". I remember thinking it was odd, no one had ever complimented my singing before...and obviously it had an effect, cause I remember the moment clear as day, 20 years later. I often think about it when we are at campfire, and I am standing at the front of camp, holding the guitar books for the guitar players...especially on the first few nights, when everyone is still timid and unsure of the songs, and I feel like I need to sing louder to make sure they feel like they can sing too...I am taken back to that moment, sitting on the floor of the dining hall, a camper in each arm, being given that nugget of praise. Gift? I don't know about that...but it made me feel ok sharing it anyway.


When I got into UCLA, my fate was sealed. I wasn't allowed to apply to the University of Michigan, where I wanted to go to major in musical theater. I'm still bitter. UCLA's theater program was not well thought of by the teachers I loved so much, and they only had ONE musical theater class...so I didn't even bother trying to major in theater there. I had a nice run as RA of the arts floor in the dorms and we put on several shows over the years I lived in the dorms. I got to play Janet in The Rocky Horror Show...with my boyfriend playing Rocky, which worked out nicely...I got to direct A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, where one of the best compliments I got was from an ex who came to the performance and said- "Wow, I really thought this was going to suck, but it didn't! It was great!". I costumed Into the Woods, after a very stubborn me decided I would only be happy with one of 2 parts. Sadly, someone way more talented than me got the Baker's Wife part...deservedly so, and someone who was more convincing than me stole the Witch part from under my feet (later regretted by the directors). I'm still bummed I gave an ultimatum on that one, although I am still proud of those costumes... :) After college, I just stopped performing, unless you count karaoke...which I don't. All this time, I considered myself an actress who sang...not a true triple threat at all, since the dancing was certainly only passable. But I love musicals more than straight plays, so what do to? Just stop, I guess.

I fell into this musical theater class at Valley College pretty much by force. Another music teacher from my high school was chairing the Music department, and when my 2nd semester of piano was cancelled, he insisted that where I needed to be was the Broadway class. He signed me out of the pre-reqs and gave me an add slip. All I had to do was find a sitter. I am so thankful he did. It's made me aware again of how much I love being on stage. I am in shock that I kept away as long as I did, that I was willing to give that up. That was 2 years ago, and now, in my 5th semester of the class, I feel very comfortable getting up there and singing my heart out.


But here is the thing. It isn't a "voice" class. It's a performing class, so we discuss the performance, but he doesn't give us voice critique. It's great for me, cause I don't have a great voice. That elementary school nemesis aside (she's now my friend on FB and on one survey bemoaned the fact that she wishes she could sing...haha), I know my voice, and it's ok. It's not trained, it's not impressive...it just is. I am lucky that I can pull off a performance on my acting ability, and I can stay on key, and I sing with confidence...so those are all good things...but I am realistic about it. And usually, that's enough. But the last few weeks have been hard. I am singing a song that, put nicely by the accompanist, makes me sound like I am a worse singer than I am. Great. I am feeling frustrated and just plain sad that I don't have the sort of voice that I always wanted to have. I am pretty sure it's a phase and it will pass, but it means that I have been bursting out into tears after class, and feeling very down about it. I don't like feeling this way. I love to sing. I love it. When I was talking to my teacher, while breaking down, I said aloud something I had never even thought about before. I said it isn't fair to love something this much and to know that no matter how hard I try or work at it, it will never be what I want it to be. But there are worse things in life, and I am sure I will regain perspective. I hope.

Friday, April 3, 2009

The History of Sewing


I was taught to sew by my mom when I was very young. I remember making pillows with her at around 9 or so. In the 80's we would make our own seemingly fashionable tunic tops in colors like purple and magenta, fantastically simple creations which were like giant tubes with shoulders. What a feeling, indeed.

My stepmom nurtured the skill as I got older...and bought me my very own sewing machine when I was 19. It was the only gift I ever remember receiving from her and biodad, and it was during the era that I thought she was on my side. That Singer worked its ass off, I costumed show after show after show on it. I supported myself using that machine after college, when, upon the advice of a boyfriend, I decided to become a costume designer, based upon the desire to keep working in theater. Being an actress seemed impractical, and so, like usual, I put aside what I loved to do to be realistic. To make ends meet while being a mediocre freelance costumer, I worked at a great costume shop, where I often pretended to know way more about what I was doing than I actually did. I learned a lot about costumes, but even more about sewing...and thankfully my bosses loved me and were relatively happy to point me in the right direction when necessary.

When you are starting out, and working on your own, you do whatever is necessary to make it. Well, I did, anyway. I made umpteen Renaissance Faire costumes with it, for myself and to sell...I made wedding dresses, and bridesmaids dresses, and Rocky Horror costumes, and WeHo Costumes, and did alterations for everything from my grandma's slacks to the Red Shoe Diaries (yes, they wore *some* clothes). I took on sewing gigs, costume design gigs, dresser gigs, wardrobe supervision gigs, anything with regard to fabric or costumes, and I would do it. Eventually, I burnt out. Well, more like exploded. But regardless, the time came for me to be done and like the impatient girl that I am, I changed my profession almost overnight and started on the teacher track, leaving all my seamstressing behind.

Within a year I was engaged, and my future mother in law, an amazing quilter, inspired me to make a quilt for Michael as a wedding gift. She gave me some direction, the best being introducing me to an amazing quilt shop whose owner was a parent of a Y person. We got along swimmingly, and she helped me figure out what on earth I was going to do. I started quilting in April of 1997, and I never looked back. Clothes? Costumes? What were those? My rayons and velvets and corduroys and gauzes were all put away in bins to make room for my calicos and cottons and batting. The specificity and patterns and colors and art of it was just what I wanted...I was never good at the other stuff. I was good at this.

The next 11 years passed, I quilted, I made baby stuff, but I never went back to clothes the way I did before. I made some stuff for my kids, some pj's for friends and family, only things I felt like making. There have been custom quilt projects which drive me up a wall, but generally speaking, I feel pretty lucky to be able to invent and create the things that pop into my head.

For various reasons I have been taking on sewing gigs for things in the last few weeks which I haven't made for years. Belly dance costumes, kitchen curtains, Rennaissance Faire costumes...things keep falling into my lap and I've been making them. Sometimes I grumble a bit, but mainly that has to do with procrastination on my part, and overall I appreciate the work. Last night, I was working on some alterations, and I was actually proud of what I had made. It came out well, and I knew it would make my client happy. It inspired me this morning to get up and actually attack my own alterations, which so often just sit in a pile and get looked at, but never fixed. I actually made my happy pants into a happy skirt...something I have needed to do for months. And I feel like something changed, I can sew clothes again. It has changed from chore to creation. No, I am not giving up quilting...I am just excited to find joy in what was for so long a bore. Hopefully the laundry epiphany arrives tomorrow.