< /girliness>
For you, life is a jilting combination of subtleties and rough hammer-blows. But you’re not one to shy away from these chiaroscuro extremes. With your combination of delicate intellect and animal passion, you can handle life’s endless surprises. Mozart and his librettist Da Ponte expected no less from their audience when they created their masterpiece about the world’s greatest lover, Don Giovanni. You will be one of the few who are equally comfortable with the refined poetry and the unbridled eroticism of this ultimate operatic achievement.
All that being said, I went to a rally yesterday for a cause about which I feel quite strong. I joined over a million people rallying in 300 cities across the world in protest of the passing of Proposition 8 in California (and similar legislation in Arizona, Florida, and Arkansas), which amended the state constitution to ban gay marriage. If ever there was a reason to stand and cheer until my back was sore and my throat was raw, this is it, people. It is not a political issue; it is a civil rights issue. In this year of all years, when it seems that we have made such enormous strides forward, electing the first African-American president, and watching a woman make the first realistic bid for the presidency, I am shocked that we have taken such an enormous step backward (and in California, of all places) on this issue.
The rally was incredible. There was a sense of solidarity that I have rarely felt before (probably because I never go to rallies). So many people had made signs, and it was obviously an issue close to everyone's heart, including the cause's "straight allies" like me. There were lots of speakers, of varying degrees of public speaking skill, but all spoke with total conviction. My favorite was a mother from PFLAG, who stood on the podium with her entire family including her gay son's partner, and spoke about the journey she took from learning her son was gay to deciding to fight for the GLBT community. I teared up listening to her speak and watching her son, who was so obviously proud of her. But the most emotional moment for me was when the main speaker invited to the stage all same-sex couples who had been married in California during the brief time that it was legal there. About a dozen couples came to the stage, representing a large range of ages and ethnicities, all of whom who are uncertain about the status of their marriages (it is still unclear whether the ban will be retroactive or not).
I happened to notice a family of four standing near me: a gay couple and what were clearly the parents of one of the men, showing their support for their son and the community. I was struck by how much they were a family, and how fundamentally wrong it is to deny these families the recognition they deserve. Surreptitious portraits of strangers are certainly not my forté, but I couldn't help myself.
The performance period of any show is always kind of a mixed bag for me. It's not the part I live for, or as an interviewer recently asked me, the part that "moves my soul." For me, my soul is most definitely moved by the rehearsal process. Once the performances start, my participation is greatly diminished, and I always feel somewhat superfluous. When things go wrong, of course, it's important for me to be there, but when things are going right it's easy to get bored. Those are really the only times that I miss being a singer, or even an assistant stage manager, since they get to be so active during the shows themselves.
Since I wasn't going to be taking any notes on the last performance (how obnoxious would that be?) and the set has good sightlines onto the stage from the wings (in case something needed my attention), I spent Act II hanging out backstage last night. If ever there was a cure for AD complacency, that was it. I could feel all that excitement and adrenaline radiating from the stage, and even though I wasn't doing anything useful, I felt much more a part of the show than I had for the past week.
or "I'm your girl for #30." Of course it's great when people are inspired to make lists of their own, but failing that, I can definitely use the help with mine. However, besides CameraMan (who has helped me cross of 3 goals), and the Bossy Folks (who contributed to 2), I haven't taken anyone up on their offers…until tonight.
He taught me how to make mojitos! (Sidebar: apparently I say the word "mojito" in a strange way that involves a shoulder shrug and pitch leap on the middle syllable, or so I was told tonight.) We made the first batch together, but after that I was a mojito-muddling machine! I made them for just about everyone there, and the consensus was that they were delicious (except the ones in which I forgot the simple syrup—amazing how much that will change the flavor of your drink).
"Si, mi chiamano" is Mimi's first aria. She has AIDS, and she has just dropped her drug stash at Rodolfo's house, and she sings this so he will light her candle....oh, wait, that's not right, that's Rent. Let me start over. Mimi is Rodolfo's neighbor, and she comes because her candle has blown out. She ends up dropping her key, and he picks it up and doesn't tell her. Then he sings all about himself and her cold hand, and asks her to tell him about herself. The aria is her doing that. Turns out Mimi is an alias, and her real name is Lucia. No one knows why, including her. She embroiders flowers for a living, but she has the soul of poet. Coincidentally, so does Rodolfo, mostly because he is a poet, so obviously they live happily after.
Except they don't. She sings "Donde lieta" in the third act, after she finds out by accident that she is very sick and dying. Basically, she is saying goodbye to Rodolfo. Quite a bit of the aria is taken up with practical matters, like how she's going to get all her crap out of his apartment (these things are always so awkward), and where she left her pink bonnet (on his pillow, inexplicably), but the overwhelming theme of the aria (made clear by lots of repetition) is "Addio, senza rancor." I think you know what that means.
"Quando men vo" is, of course, sung by a completely different character, Musetta. She is in an on again, off again romance with Rodolfo's BFF Marcello. This aria is sung during one of the off times, Act II. She has brought her sugar daddy with her to Marcello's favorite restaurant to make Marcello jealous. When it doesn't work she sings this aria, all about how beautiful she is and how everyone wants her. This does the trick, and right after the aria is done she and Marcello get back together. This, of course, lasts only until the end of Act III.
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