PHEW! followed by ARGH!.

The auditions are done! What a relief. I can now go back to being hard-of-hearing in peace. (Okay, that's a lie, as I am feeling anything but peaceful about my inability to connect sounds to their origins, but at least I don't have to try to sell myself as a deaf singer, right?)
The first audition went surprisingly well. I explained my situation to the auditors, who seemed somewhat sympathetic (and perhaps just a touch concerned that I might be wasting their time) and had no problem allowing me to stand beside the piano. Fortunately, it was a grand piano, and it was loud, so I was able to move away and use the whole space. The audition was for a 60's rock review, and I started with Jefferson Airplane's "Somebody to Love". I pretty much rocked it out. It was fun, and I could hear the piano well enough to go full volume with my singing. They then asked for a ballad, so I did Janis Joplin's "Me & Bobby McGee". The musical director, who was accompanying, played guitar on this one, and while it wasn't as easy to hear as the grand piano, I was able to play along with it and only lost it a couple of times. I also danced around and did some stomping and clapping, all while wearing high-heeled platform boots (which I was taking a BIG risk on, as my equilibrium is so out of whack that I am stumbling about even barefoot, but I think the audition momentum helped keep me upright). By the end, I was a sweaty mess, but I clearly showed them that not only can I sing, I can perform.

Yesterday's audition was not as successful. I mean, it was fine. But I didn't get much response from the auditors. This was a general audition for the 2011-12 season at Village Theatre, one of 2 big musical theatre companies in town. They wanted a short monologue and a verse & chorus from a Broadway show. Which is scary for me. I'm not a musical theatre singer. I can sing, some might say I can sing really well. But musical theatre has a specific sound, it's pretty and trilly and not really me. I've been told by a number of auditors over the years that I don't have a musical theatre voice. And as I waited to go in, I could hear the people before me singing their Broadway songs and sounding all pretty (or perhaps they sounded awful, but to my fuzzy ears, and my feelings of musical theatre inadequacy, they sounded pretty). I felt a bit like an outsider. And when I went in and explained my partial-hearing predicament, I received blank stares. Great. I did my monologue, which I thought went well, but again, blank stares. The accompanist then began playing my song (I chose "Solomon Song" from "The Threepenny Opera", which is a Broadway show, but it's Brecht, which is more my speed, and I know the song via Marianne Faithfull and Cyndi Lauper, neither of whom are pretty and trilly), and I had to stop and ask him to give me my note as I couldn't hear it (no grand piano this time). The second time, I got it, and I think I did a fine and dandy job. But again, blank stares. And when I finished, I got the "thank you" response that kind of feels like they're saying, "Thank you for wasting 4 minutes of our precious time." Blech. Whatever, it's done, and I am proud of the work I did.

And then I came home and decided to tackle my taxes. And you know what? Taxes are stupid. Our tax system is a joke. I made practically no money last year. I won't embarrass myself by telling you how little I made, but I promise you, it was next to nothing. And it took me HOURS to figure it all out. I had to fill out a schedule C, a schedule A, and a schedule SE. And, I owe taxes. Which is fine, except that I keep reading all these stories about all these billion dollar corporations who pay nothing, and frankly, it pisses me off. Yeah yeah, lower taxes on corporations keeps them doing business in the USofA, blah blah BULLSHIT. Pardon my language, but COME ON! When it comes down to it, the more money you make, the better tax attorney you can hire, the less you will pay in taxes. How is that fair? Forget fair, how is that LOGICAL? As far as I'm concerned, there should be no such job as "tax attorney". Because that job exists to keep people with money from paying any taxes. (I can speak about this, because Alex has been using a tax attorney for a number of years, and while he hired him to help him make sense of his very complicated tax situation, he pays him to help him legally pay as little as possible. To the extent that I am paying more in taxes this year than Alex's corporation is, and I can assure you, he made A LOT more money than me.) How can this convoluted tax system be justified? I had one measly 1099-MISC to report which required 4 additional pages of paperwork on my end. What?! Ridiculous! I know, I know, I'm a liberal bleeding-heart who likes teachers and doesn't blame them for the states' fiscal woes and thinks that corporate greed is FAR more responsible for the Great Recession than the greedy fat-cat parasitic union members of this country (I borrowed that description from a number of talking heads on CNBC who seem to think teachers and cops and firefighters are bathing in champagne and lunching on caviar whilst aboard their private yachts). I'm pretty sure that most union members aren't sending their taxes off to their tax attorneys in order to find all of the loopholes that will allow for legal tax avoidance. I know a bunch of union members, and let me tell you, they're not rich. They're not greedy, they're not fat, most of them rent tiny apartments and have to choose between cable TV and a gym membership, and all of them pay taxes. Just like me. We don't have the money to pay for legal tax avoidance. And that feels a bit like class warfare to me.

Yes, I'm angry. And I'm deaf. I bet if I had a tax attorney, he'd find a way for my temporary partial hearing loss to give me a rebate. Grumble.

On a total side note....I want to send some love to my lady Lola. She can't hire a tax attorney, either. No cable TV for her! But she is a gift to me in a million ways, and I hope that in the months to come she finds herself all smiles in her roller skates.

Say WHAT?

The good news is, I'm no longer sick! The antibiotics killed whatever was causing me massive pain in my ear, my fever is gone, and I am no longer asking Alex to be my nursemaid. The only problem is, I am now deaf as a doorknob. It seems that this is a common problem associated with ear infections. The antibiotics kill the infection, but left behind is all the puss and goo (best described as "ear snot") that developed with the infection. Decongestants helped to keep me from blowing my nose every 5 seconds, but they don't eliminate the ear snot, they just kind of dry it up and make it hard, which makes it nearly impossible for said snot to drip its way out of my head and into my chest, from which I could eventually cough it up and get it out of my body. Which is gross, sure, but I would be far happier dealing with a chest cold right now than I am dealing with deafness. I feel as though I am underwater, or that I'm walking around with ear plugs in. There is a constant ringing, and I am able to take my pulse whenever I want, just by listening to the blood pounding through my clogged head. Awesome. According to everything I've read, this is completely normal after a bad middle ear infection, and the best I can do is be patient. Most estimates give me anywhere from a couple of weeks to a few MONTHS with partial hearing loss. Which makes me want to bang my head against a wall. I feel like I'm going crazy! I hear disembodied sounds, and unless I'm looking right at the source of the sound, I have no idea where the sound is coming from or what it is connected to. Alex played a song the other night, and after listening for a little while, I asked him if it was an Eminem song. Nope, turns out it was bluegrass. Imagine mistaking banjos for rap. That's my life right now. I am the lady in line at the drug store that needs to be tapped on the shoulder and told that the cashier is ready for me. I find myself simply smiling and saying "yes" at the checkout counter because I'm not sure what's being said and don't want to ask the cashier to repeat himself. Really, I don't like going anywhere. My sense of balance is compromised; I find myself tilting to the right when I walk, and standing still requires a whole lot of shifting on my feet. I'm nervous to drive my car. Honestly, I feel like I'm on drugs. And maybe, just maybe, if I was CHOOSING to be on this drug, I might be able to go with it and have some fun. "Whoopee, I'm dizzy, and I just walked into a door! Fun!" Instead, I've woken up every morning for a week now, hoping that this might be the day when sound is restored to me. But alas, it's only gotten worse. I will say, the ringing has faded a bit (or, perhaps I've gotten used to it). And one ear is better than the other, so I can turn my head that way when I'm listening to someone speak. But really, this just sucks. I'm not sick, but in some ways, I felt better when I was bleeding from my ears.
And to make this scenario even ruder, I have two auditions in the next two days, both of them requiring singing with a piano. I'm trying to figure out the best way to prep my auditors for my condition, because the reality is, I'm going to have to practically lie on the piano to hear it over my own voice. And frankly, I can't really hear myself. I mean, I can, but the sound is warped and muted, so I'm kind of shouting. Plus, I have no idea if my pitch is accurate. Hell, I can't even tell if I'm enunciating! I have a very articulate manner of speaking; I have never been told (since my early days of living with a speech impediment, or as I used to say, a "THpeech" impediment) that I can't be understood due to mumbling or lazy speech habits. This week, however, Alex has had to ask me to repeat myself countless times. So, there is a chance I go to my auditions this week mumbling and shout-singing off-key. More awesome. I'm on the verge of desperation about getting a job, I mean I really NEED a job, and now I get to try to sell myself when I'm deaf. Sure, it'll all be funny someday, but right about now, I feel like the butt of somebody else's joke.
And the cherry on top? No matter how much yogurt I've eaten, no matter how many billions of live cultures I've swallowed in probiotic pills this week, I've still managed to kill off all the good bacteria in my body and now need to make a trip to the Monistat aisle. (Yeah, I know, too much information, but if I'm gonna bitch and moan about things, I might as well put it all out there.)
So there we have it: I am no longer sick.
Awesome.

I admit it.

It takes a lot for me to admit to being sick. I can admit to not feeling well, I can admit to having a cold or a flu or being in serious discomfort, but to actually call myself "sick" means I must be bleeding from the ears or something. So yesterday morning, when Alex woke to find me googling "bleeding from the ears", he decided that it was time, instead, to google a doctor.

And now, I'll admit it: I'm sick. I have an ear infection. A really bad one, according to the doctor, whose response when looking in my ear was, "Whoa!" I'm sick, I admit it. And I want to be a baby about it. I want my mom to make me tea and tuck me under a blanket on the couch and put on stupid tv for me to sleep through all day. Mom, of course, is nowhere near Seattle, but fortunately, Alex is here to baby me. And baby me he does! He's got me on the couch and he's bringing me tea and Theraflu, and the TV is showing college basketball (which isn't quite as stupid as I'd like, but I can't help but think how many people out there are jealous of me being able to watch every second of March Madness). I'm not good at being a patient; I like to be the care-giver, the doer, and so to stay wrapped under blankets on a couch and ask him to go get me a glass of water when he's working, I have a hard time with it. Alex had to scold me numerous times yesterday for being a bad patient; he assured me that he could microwave his own lunch and that there was absolutely no reason for me to be doing dishes. "I want you to tell me when you want to get up and get something, and I'll get it for you," he says. And he means it. And the truth is, I feel bad enough that I'm actually taking him up on it today. I woke up this morning, not having had any medicine in 8 hours, and my first thought was, "Somebody please decapitate me!" It felt like my head might explode at any moment, there was so much pressure. Fortunately, the bleeding from the ears has just about stopped, and I'm on antibiotics and painkillers and decongestants and on the way to being healthy. But for today, I'm sick. And the baby in me welcomes your sympathy.

Tsunami in Paradise

Have you seen the pictures and footage from Japan? Awful. Horrible. Makes me want to tell everyone I know how thankful I am to have them in my life. You know, just in case I happen to be in an area that experiences a huge earthquake followed by a devastating tsunami. Which I am not, mind you. But there was a period of about 8 hours last night when I wasn't sure about that. Watching footage of a wall of water approaching Japan's coast, watching footage of boats lying on their sides and bridges under water and people waving white flags from the top floors of their newly underwater homes, and then being told that a tsunami warning was in effect for the Hawai'ian islands, and that the first island to be hit would be Kaua'i, and that the wave would make landfall at 3:07AM HST, well, you can imagine me wanting to tell all the people in my life just how thankful I am to call them my friends and my family. That means YOU!

Granted, my tsunami story ends, thankfully, with little more hassle than being evacuated from our complex of 3 beach houses to a 6-bedroom mansion in the hills. My tsunami story ends, happily, with little more destruction than beach debris littering the lawn of our beach house, which the landscaping crew is currently in the process of cleaning up. In other words, my tsunami story is a ridiculous case of moving from luxury to luxury and having other people deal with whatever headaches may have arisen. My tsunami story is almost embarrassing when looking at the footage of the heartbreaking situation in Japan. My tsunami story is 13 people on vacation who are now all laughing about how poor the TV news coverage of the "event" was. After all, this happened in the middle of the night, so even when there was something to be seen--the water receding about 150 yards from shore multiple times and then coming in strong like a fast-rushing tide--we couldn't see anything on TV and had only the newscasters to tell us what it might look like, should it actually be visible to anyone. To be fair, though, it was frightening to consider the "what-ifs" of a tsunami wall-of-water reaching us, here in our houses-on-stilts 100 yards from the ocean. At first, it all seemed like a bunch of hype and hysteria. I mean, a TSUNAMI? No way!! But then that footage started showing up on TV, and then the alert sirens began blaring, and then the property manager called to tell us to pack all of our things, including food and bottles of water, and to be ready to move once she found a place for us on higher ground. When do you ever expect to get THAT call? It was too surreal to be believed, and then it became horrifically believable. So we packed. And we sent emails or made phone calls to our loved ones on the mainland to let them know not to worry, we'll be safe no matter what, but we may not have electricity or running water or phone/internet service come landfall. There were talks of the airport, which sits at sea level, taking on major damage, perhaps stranding us here for some time. The "what-ifs" coupled with the footage in Japan, all of it being dissected and processed by 13 near-strangers at different degrees of "Holy crap we need to go!" or "Holy crap we need some surf boards!", some of whom had been drinking since breakfast, all of whom had to work as a team to get ourselves taken care of, it was comically chaotic and funnily frightening. But we managed to stay calm enough to get ourselves together and head out to our "shelter" (it makes the story much more dramatic if we spent the night in a "shelter" rather than a mansion, don't you think?) and then stayed glued to the news until about 90 minutes after landfall, when it seemed clear that the destruction would be minimal on our island and there was nothing more to do but get a few hours sleep. Which we did, and then once the restrictions were lifted at 8AM and we were able to make our way back to the beach houses, we all piled into our caravan and arrived to find the property manager and her groundskeeping crew of 5 already at work on cleaning up the debris. Our houses had no damage (though the house 2 doors down, which was almost rented by us, did lose their outdoor staircase). Our beach is still beautiful. And the airport is once again up and running.

Now it's time to take a siesta on the lanai to recover from my harrowing night in the shelter. (I have a hard time even writing that joking comment without feeling guilty about Japan.) In all seriousness, my tsunami non-story is made up of moments of pause, where I couldn't help but feel fortunate for the new friends I am here with and the family and friends I have scattered about the mainland, moments of appreciating how fickle fate can be, how everything can change in a flash and what is paradise today can be a disaster-zone tomorrow. I have a story to tell, while others have lost loved ones and homes and businesses. My story is nothing more than a story, and I'm thankful to be able to share it with you.

Now, go hug or call your loved ones! And send Japan all the goodness you can send, whatever that means to you.

Aloha!

Tsunami be KIDDING me!

Greetings from paradise!

Today, I took a long walk on the north shore of Kaua'i. It wasn't long, not really, maybe about three-quarters of a mile each way, but the sand was thick and deep, more like tiny pebbles than sand, making the walk feel like a trip on a Stair Master. There was a strong wind blowing, and the waves were crashing on shore and on the reefs, rows of crashing blue-green waves, salt-water spray melting into bright blue sky. The shore here is littered with bits of coral reef and skeletal shells, sharp to walk on in some spots, but beautiful nonetheless. And while I have taken walks on the beach all three days of my visit, I haven't yet gone swimming. Which is shocking, being that I'm staying in a house on the beach and I've spent hours walking with my feet in the water and I LOVE to swim in the ocean! Especially when the ocean is clear as crystal and warm to boot! But, truth be told, it's a little scary, all those waves crashing on all those reefs. I'm not used to having to dodge razor-sharp coral while diving under quick and wicked waves.

And now, it looks like I may have to get in a car to avoid those waves.

Not to sound too dramatic, but watching the live pictures from Japan of the tsunami they are now experiencing, and being told by the property manager we should pack up our things while they look for higher ground for all of us, well, it feels kind of dramatic here. So, I have to go pack up my things, just in case. And I promise, if any tsunami makes its way to Hawai'i, I will be fine, though I may be without a shower for a few days. But hopefully, all will be well in Hawai'i. And we should all send our good wishes to the people of Japan.

Aloha!

From Agita to Aloha

I'm having a hard time getting started with this post. I want to fill you in on the past few weeks, which have seen me moving to a new apartment and shopping for furniture to fill said apartment and flying Mom out to Seattle to help with said shopping and working on some big auditions and finishing my assistant teaching gig and…a lot has happened. And my new apartment is awesome. I want to tell you all about it. I want to fill you in on all the details of Mom's visit and the fabulous reading chair she helped me pick out. I want to tell you about the auditions and the callbacks and the preparations for upcoming auditions. I really do want to share it all with you.

But I'm having a hard time focusing on the past few weeks. Because as I write this, I am lounging on a lanai (that's "porch" for those of you who don't speak Hawaiian) and watching the green-blue waves of the Pacific crash into the shore some 100 yards from my feet. The palm trees are swaying in a cool breeze and the breeze smells of flowers and coconut. Or perhaps I'm just smelling the freshly chopped coconuts that are sitting on the table next to me. If I care to stand up and walk to the end of the lanai and look to the south, there is a waterfall pouring off of a jungle cliff, its mists mingling with the blackened sky above until they settle back into cloud cover. Every few minutes, a rooster crows (seems these islands are chock full of chickens as chickens have no natural predators here), and at some point during the day, I should get a visit from a Black Lab named Iko Iko who wears a collar saying "PLEASE DO NOT FEED". Now really, how am I supposed to be focused enough on February's furniture shopping to turn my thoughts from my present surroundings? And truthfully, I don't think you'd want me to leave paradise for even a moment, am I right? I'll be back in Seattle in a week and I will gladly give you a photo tour of our new Room with a View (just so you know, the view is similar to our last place, only bigger!) and tell you all about my developing life there. Today, however, is a perfect day to be living in the moment. Aloha from Kaua'i. And mahalo for reading.