Wienies and Operas and Cocktails, Oh my!

I’m not the oldest or most experienced stage manager, nor am I the youngest.  And as my fabulous friend Little Ms Bossy would say, I’m “pushing” 30 and feeling it.  However, there is one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get over:  I get nervous on day one.  That first day of rehearsal just stresses me out.  And I don’t know why.  It’s usually one of the easiest days.  In the world of opera, we usually have a music rehearsal.  I sit and listen.  DONE!  And yet, there are always butterflies in my stomach.  The feeling I have forgotten something important, that I haven’t checked every minute detail of the rehearsal room is always there.  It’s ridiculous really.  Especially with my current show:  I have 5 singers.  Several of whom I already know, and the rest I’ve heard nothing but glowing reviews (and by reviews I don’t mean the ones that are written in Opera News, but the ones from other SMs and directors).  To me, it’s great to work with an extremely talented singer; however, I just want him/her to be nice and friendly.  Singers can be needy; singers can be forgetful; singers can be self-centered; however, none of that matters if they are cordial.  I don’t care at all.  I love my job.  I love singers.  I already love my current cast.   And I had no reason to be stressed about today, but nevertheless, I was.  Now for a glass of wine or maybe scotch.

It’s been two weeks since I posted last.  My time in PA was amazing.  Ryan and I think we gained about 10 lbs each from the delicious smorgasbord of meats and foods that my parents love to cook.  I also played some golf with my dad and sister, which was great.  I really want to start playing more, and upstate New York is the perfect place.

We made it to Cooperstown last week.  And as soon as we pulled into the GO parking lot, we were on the run.  The week has flown by seeing old friends, meeting new people, and of course, working.  I am thrilled to be spending the summer here again.  It’s like home.

However, it’s never exactly the same when you return home after being gone.  There are always little things that change:  some for the better, some for the worse, and some completely unnoticeable.

One of the delights of working at GO is the fact that we rehearse in different found venues all over the region.  We rehearse in school gyms, church-owned spaces, grange halls, and our newest rehearsal space is a Masonic Lodge.  That’s right.  The lovely ritualistic space of Dan Brown novels will be part of my every day for a few months.  I’d tell you all about the lodge, their members, and the artifacts in it, but then, they’d have to kill me.

Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

“What do you do for a living?” is one of my least favorite questions in the world.  Explaining to someone what a stage manager does is difficult enough; saying that I work for opera companies doesn’t make it any clearer and usually brings the conversation to a halt.  So it’s always awkward, and I kinda think my job is uninteresting to most.  However, I love being wrong.

Yesterday, I accompanied my parents to my dad’s hormone treatment (No, he’s not having a sex change).  It was my first time meeting his medical oncologist, whom my parents are very satisfied with.  Of course, after I introduced myself to the doctor, he asked the dreaded question.

I started off, “I work backstage for opera,” hoping that the conversation will end with, “That’s very interesting.”  However, he beamed with excitement saying he’s an avid opera-goer.  Completely ignoring my father, Dr. Opera began asking questions and talking up a storm.  He wanted to know if I worked with the lights or the scenery, and I then revealed that I’m a stage manager and facilitate all of the backstage operations.  It was comical, and even cute, the way he went on and on telling me about his favorite opera singer (who is from his native country) and that he regularly attends the opera in DC (Washington National Opera).  After a good 8 or 9 minutes, he finally turned back to my father, who although was being extremely proud was thinking, “Hey, I’m the patient here.”

There’s nothing like telling one of your best friends that you can’t go to his wedding.  That phone call was so painful.  I wanted to cry every second of it, and the lemonlimetini that I was drinking went from sweet to sour in a single sip.

You feel rebellious and self-assured thinking about your career in the performing arts, that you fought the mainstream, and no one can take you down, but in reality it controls your whole damn life.  You can’t turn down work because you’re living check-to-check.  And most of the time, calling in sick isn’t an option.  Getting a sub just ain’t so easy.  Yes, some companies have understudies/covers that go on for singers at the drop of a hat, but stage managers don’t have covers.  We can’t just not show up.

I remember many years ago.  It was my first summer stock, my first professional job, my first inkling of what it meant to be part of this business…show business (cue spirit fingers).  One of my new friends Miss Belt-It-Out Long Legs couldn’t go to her best friend’s wedding, and she was supposed to be the maid-of-honor.  It makes you sick to your stomach.  There are so many sacrifices that I’ve made to do this, and I’m not sure this one is even close to worth it.

I live just under 1500 miles away from my parents and sister, under 1700 miles from most of my college friends, under 1400 miles from my brother.  And I never can control my schedule.  The thought of taking a Friday off to have a 3-day weekend is ludicrous.  I’m lucky to have one day off a week to get a hair cut, have a dentist appointment, or take little Oscar to the vet.  My schedule is always determined for me.  Another college friend, the one I’ve known the longest, had her first baby recently.  I never even saw her pregnant.  It’s been that long since I’ve been able to visit.

This was the wedding that I would have paid a fortune to attend.  They’ve been together for nearly a decade or OVER.  And now I just can’t go.  

“The show must go on” never sounded so bitter.  

Round number two.

The performing arts is a difficult career to pursue, especially financially.  Like most businesses very few people rake in a six figure salary, which now-a-days isn’t actually a lot of money.  Yes, the super stars in their genre aren’t hurting like the rest of us living check-to-check.  (I’m sure there’s a happy little non-AC liking person depositing his check right now!)  And I’m not saying I’m a starving artist.  Personally I work more weeks in a year as a stage manager than most stage managers I know.  Probably not saying a lot, but I digress.

It’s been five years, almost to the day, since I graduated from college.  And it’s only now that I’m realizing what my financial situation actually is:  CRAPTASTIC!  Of course, that is mostly because of decisions I have made along the way for bad or for worse.  Private College = Debt.  Career in the Performing Arts = DEbt.    Living in an Expensive City = DEBt.  Getting a Dog = DEBT.  None of those decisions I would have changed.  Going to a great school for theater gave me the connections and skills to pursue what I love.  I moved to Boston to be with the best person in the whole world.  And we got Oscar, the magnificent wienie pooch, who gives special up-the-nose kisses every day.

But now I’m just screwed.  I’ve got student loans, credit card debt, no savings, and a job at McDonald’s as my retirement plan.  I wish I could say that it is my career that has put me in this situation, but the truth is it’s not.  My entire generation is drowning in debt.  The current economic status of the US (and the world) has made it exponentially worse.  No financial institution wants to give out loans or think about helping someone like me.  And credit card companies want to raise APRs, lower credit lines, add fines and fees where you aren’t looking, and inject poison into wienie dogs.  It’s scary.  I read it on the huffington post.

How am I supposed to get a decent car loan?  Or buy a house some day?  Well I can’t right now.  I’ll continue to rent, which means throwing money away instead of putting it into a mortgage.  Every time I think I’m paying down my credit cards (I almost always pay more than my minimum payment), I have to fly to visit family/friends or buy presents for a wedding or Christmas, you know those things that make you a good person and not just a leech living on planet Earth throwing plastic bottles into the dumpster instead of recycling.  Frustrating, it’s just frustrating.

Luckily, I have a brother who is a financial planner who can help with trustworthy advice.  He’s awesome.  However, can someone tell me why I waited 5 whole years to ask for it?  Well, I’m ready to take control of my finances, but the end of the fiscal tunnel of doom is years away.  Thank goodness, I have a lot to be thankful for that is more important than money.  I have my health, my family, my wienie dog, my Ryan, my friends, my cocktails, my job, and a roof over my head (when it doesn’t shake).

Again, I’m not a starving artist, although if I was I could lose those extra 15 lbs.  But now I’m trying to think of ways to make extra income in my copious free time.  Maybe Oscar can get a part-time job.  If only he could baby-sit Shelby, instead of trying to eat her.  Ah well.