My Geese are Still Scattered

  Previously, I wrote about how my geese were scattered. Well, sad news. They still are scattered. But I am less weary about their condition. It's just how they will always be. I can't change these damn geese. It's becoming clear to me that an artist cannot and is never able to control his or her artistic path.
  You can have your perfect master plan and you can be as talented as Mozart ever was. But all of this does not count in the end. The things that will determine your path are the doors that will be opened to you.
  My job as an artist is to master the skills of letting go and having faith. Letting go. As adults we hear this all the time. But no one really talks about how we should go about doing so. I personally think that we can only learn this skill through art. Why art? Because art teaches you that lessons take time and it forces you to understand a hell lot of yourself (even when you refuse). There is only one true art in you, and that is you. You are the art. And let me tell you a secret... (there isn't a short cut, trick, sorcery or gadget that can teach you how to be yourself, but yourself)
   We are born with souls. You don't have to see a ghost to know that. We learn as children that we are not like our toys. My nephew loves his Thomas tank engine set. He talks to them and makes them talk like he can. But he knows they are not like him. But does that take the joy out of the relationship he has with his trains? HELL NO! And why is that? Well, because there a spectacular thing that our brains can do. Imagine. Our soul longs to see beyond what our eyes and our brains can manifest. Art gives is our medium canvas to paint what the tangible world cant. It is yours to paint! Remember those days, adults? Those sweet days when you allowed yourself to let your imagination run wild, be naked and embrace what your parents cannot. This is why my career has nothing to do with controlling. But it has everything to do with being in control. Controlled chaos.

My geese may look scattered, but I am not a scatter brain.

And since talent and master plans don't really mean much in the end, why not let my imagination be the wild thing it can be? I want to sing like the way my nephew plays his Thomas trains.

Crack that Shell

The more you learn, the less you know.
I can't tell you how many times I've heard this.

But really, when will I actually crack that shell? When will I finally get a taste of knowing?

The older I get, the more I see how stupid I am. And somehow, that hurts in a good way.

It doesn't make me want to fight or deny the fact that I don't know much about the world. However, it does make me want to reach out, jump off the cliff, and dive deep to find out how much I've been missing out.

Working at the coffee shop really helps. I get to talk to so many smart and intelligent people who I would never meet in the conservatory, or in church, or on my commute. They talk about music, movies, authors, creatures, philosophies, places--about the many things that I've never heard of.

A cave woman being introduced to the new world. Lately, I've been feeling more and more like a cave woman who just had her cave broken into pieces. Now, she must commune with the rest of the world. And find out how she functions without her safe cave.

Could it be that I'm growing up? Or is globalization catching up to me? The world seems smaller by day. The obvious is becoming too obvious. So much so that I'm seeing the many details that I've missed on my first glance.

This is good. And I'm very thankful for it.   

Singing from the Heart

5 years ago, my dream was to have a career at the Met someday.
4 years ago, my dream was to win a competition.
3 years ago, my dream was to prove that I am good at singing.
2 years ago, my dream was to get into an opera program.
1 year ago, my dream was to be a great artist.

...now, my dream is...what is my dream?
Dreams are silly. They are not real. They are lies you tell yourself to create hope that permits you to do what you are doing.

I am running out of dreams. Well, I guess I'm just tired of having to recreate dreams.

You can't always do what you set your mind on doing.
You can't always be whoever you want to be.
So what? Does that mean you're a failure?

Surprisingly, I am not feeling like a failure. Lately, I've noticed that what I think I am and what I think I should want is not what it is. They are a manifestation of what the world tells me to be and want.

"I am who I am." Without dreams, I am still who I am. The more I manifest on who I am and listen to what my insides tell me, dreams don't really matter.

Goals are good starting points. The journey however is the destination. So wherever I end up, I am never a failure--even when the world tries to make me look like one. As long as I sing from my heart and follow where it tells me to go, I will never fail.

So yeah, screw you, world for trying to tell me what I should dream and who I should be. I'm tired of having to squeeze into your box. 

It is possible to be in this world while being true to myself. It is possible to find calm within the storm. It is possible to be real and not hated. It is possible to dislike and still love. It is possible to feel shitty towards someone or something you respect and love so much. It is possible to be beautiful and imperfect at the same time. It is also possible to be ugly and perfect at the same time. It is possible that everything I'm saying right now is complete bullshit.

So why do I need dreams if the possibilities are endless? 

Dreams are silly. I'm just going to sing from my heart instead.

On that note, I should update my profile.

I Would Do It All Over Again

As we pack for our big move to Boston, I have been rediscovering a lot of things that we have accumulated in our four years of being together.

Sweet memories.
The notes we have written to each other.
The pictures from our wedding.
His NOLS gear.
His wedding tux.
My wedding dresses.
The wedding ring case.
The dresser and the night stand from IKEA.
The plants.
The fish.
The 25th ring hanging off the ceiling. 

This apartment will always have a special place in my heart. Our first home together.
Knowing that everything we have has a special memory makes purging extremely difficult.

But if purging means that I get to accumulate memories with you all over again,

I would in a heart beat.

Hear my Prayer

O Lord,
Listen to my cry for help;
Be not deaf to my weeping.
For I dwell with you as a stranger,
as all my fathers were.
Look away from me,
That I may rejoice again
before I depart and am no more.

I wish I was the center of the universe. But I am undependable. If the universe was orbiting around me, there would be planets and stars and giant rocks crashing into each other by the minute. There would be no universe if I was the center.

Pride sucks you into doing and thinking foul things.
As I prepare for my recitals, I cry out for help to the Lord. Frau Evelina keeps coming back telling me that things should be perfect--I should be perfect. It's all about me and nothing else.

That's not true. If I did art for myself, I would not be an artist. Gifts are meant to be shared and given away. I am singing because I am called to sing. He gives me a new song to sing each day. What else can I do but to praise Him and find pleasure in singing His new songs?

Apart from You, I have No Good Thing

Alec and I are moving to Boston.
We are very stressed with all the planning. Every part of the planning seems to burden us. We have forgotten. I have forgotten what and why I've decided to move.

Getting into this school took more than just one miracle.
With a couple missed flight and a lost baggage, it took many many prayers to get me to the audition without looking like a complete mess.
During the audition, I didn't quite get myself mentally prepared to sing in front of 8-9 people from the voice faculty. I sang my first aria successfully. But was not at all prepared for my second piece. I gave the faculty 2 completely different performances within 5 minutes.

How is it possible that I still got in to the school? After my audition, I had to wait for an interview with the stage director. Knowing how I flopped my audition, there was no longer a need to impress the school. Why should I? I'm not getting into the school after that kind of audition.

So, I walked into the interview as myself. He asked me why did I choose to sing opera. How did I learn to sing? What sort of stage experiences have I had?

And then he asked, "Do you have any questions for me?" He probably regretted asking me this because as soon as he did, I knew the ball was in my court. In a split second, his student interview became my teachers interview. Why not? I'm not getting into this school. I better learn what it's like being here if I'd ever have the chance to attend your school in the future. Half an hour later, I've learned why he's decided to teach there, what sort of operas he's done, how he runs his classroom, what technique he uses, how he collaborates with the other directors etc...

When this trip was over, I've learned that God can move mountains but did not at all think I was getting in.

In less than a month, we learned that I got in.

How miraculous.

Why wouldn't I go there? What do I have that I did not receive? And if I did receive it, why would I boast as though I did not?  


Lord, you have assign me my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure.

I am Never Offended by People

Today, I heard the most disingenuous BS ever.

"I don't get offended," she said to me.

 Background:
There once was a friend. One day, the friend decided that we should no longer be friends on facebook. She blocked me completely so not only am I unable to see her profile, I am not allowed to send her a message. She also happens to take lessons from my teacher. Once in a while we'd see each other, she'd throw me the cold shoulder.

As much as the pride in me kept saying "I don't care about her", the real me says "I am hurt."

So one day, I decided that in order to forgive her for hurting me, I had to find out if I was actually the one who needed the forgiveness.

I called her....
         Call ignored.

Left her a message:
Hi, I know it's been awhile. Recently, I've felt a sudden change in how you have been treating me. Instead of sulking about it, I'm calling to see if I have offended you in any way. If I have, I am sorry for what I've done on top of having been so ignorant about it. If I haven't, I would still love to talk to you and be completely open in listening to what you have to say.

She called back and asked what prompted me to call her.
"What made you think that I am offended by you? I am not offended by you.  (And here's when it happened.)
I don't get offended. (hogwash) I am NEVER offended by people.(garbage, rubbish, ultimate bullshit) What made you think that I am offended by you? What did I do to make you feel like that about me? What made you think that I am offended by you?"

Okay, so maybe the conversation didn't go as I have hoped but I did learn a few things.

...Maybe sometimes asking for forgiveness is not really about getting the pardon from someone else. But it is about finding the courage to forgive yourself and pardoning your own imperfections.

 ...And maybe sometimes forgiving is not about pardoning others for how they have wronged you. Instead, it is about showing grace to people that are not able to do that for themselves.


Forgive our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.