The Weighing In Of Opera

Buzzfeed.com had an interesting post on “What Happened To Opera”.  True to Buzzfeed’s style the article, while somewhat tongue-in-cheek, makes a damn good point  and gets extra kudos for the Bugs Bunny reference.

While the opera productions have become bigger, grander, the singers themselves have not, at least not size wise.   Here in America, as well as in other Western social minds,  the fat body is considered unhealthy, abnormal, something to be ashamed of, not the socially accepted form of what is sexy.

Many opera companies, especially the smaller ones, struggle economically. And apparently think the solution is to behave like popular music labels and play up the sexuality of their leading stars.  Singer Deborah Voigt, a leading dramatic soprano, was famously fired years ago for being too fat to portray a role as the stage director at that time had envisioned it.  Voigt was eventually reinstated after she lost the weight through gastric band surgery. Yes, she states it was for her own health reasons, but no one can be blamed for the unspoken wink, wink, nudge, nudge  that goes with it.  Erstwhile mega operatic superstars such as Norman and Sills and Pavarotti would likely be hard pressed to keep their standing in this new aesthetic. This goes beyond mere fat-phobia into an analysis of appearance in music and theater that is depressing.

If the saying “It ain’t over ’till the fat lady sings” were to held to its truth, it would likely mean the death knell for opera.  As with everything else there are exceptions to the rule, those whose amazing voices transcend the benchmark.  Still,  even those exceptions are growing smaller and smaller and not just in size.

It’s sad, but unfortunately true. Opera used to be solely about the singing.  Now not only must the singers have the most amazing voices for the parts, they now must have the looks to go with them and therein lies the rub. There was ad campaign which queried  “What is sexy”.   And let’s face it, in this climate, the de rigueur definition of  sexy = skinny.

The beloved image fat, horned-helmet Valkyrie, belting out Wagner, pretty much synonymous with opera, will eventually be as obsolete as the Beta-max.  There are such amazing singers out there whose voices  may never be heard because of this downsizing and we will never know our loss.

Happy Birthday Willie Shakes

Just this morning I quoted “all the world’s a stage” to a friend. A discussion ensued which wound up with us using Google to prove I was right in that the line was from “As You Like It” and not from “Love’s Labour Lost”. That in turn became a discussion of just how Shakespeare’s words have infiltrated our lives.

Few of us get through the education system without gleaning some basic knowledge of the man, well at least a couple of his works. Even if one cannot quote any other line from say, Hamlet; even if one does not know the name of the tragedy itself, one is still familiar with “…to be or not to be…”  I still remember the magical moment in fourth grade upon realizing wherefore actually meant why and how that one little thing completely changed the context of “…wherefore art thou Romeo?”. It taught me to always look deeper than the words on the page, because as Led Zeppelin perfectly states ’cause you know sometimes words have two meanings. Still, thanks to my southern upbringing, I knew what being “a sorry sight” meant long before I ever heard the name William Shakespeare and was destined to enjoy more of his magical verbiage.

Think about it. Most of his words which we quote without thought, were written for plays – for mere entertainment. Think about how so much of it has transcended from Elizabethan times to now, without one iota of loss in their overall meanings. Talk about staying power! Many of us remember little of what we’re taught regarding the actual history of those times. Well, little of history in general, to be honest. Yet all of us quote him more than we can ever imagine, even if we do not realize the words are his.

I’ll quote someone else for a moment and paraphrase Edward Bulwer-Lytton: the might of the pen, indeed!

In the midst of the above mentioned Google search I also discovered today, April 23rd, is William Shakespeare’s birthday.

Willie Shakes, as I quite tongue-in-cheekily like to refer to the Bard, would be 449 years old. In honor of the man who likely has had the biggest influence on many of the colloquialisms that continue to spice our language I post the following:

Shakespeare Words

* click to see full size *

Happy 449th Birthday William Shakespeare!!

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old”
— Shakespeare Sonnet 104
====================
Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 23, 2013

Boston

In all honesty, I really don’t know what to say, yet I feel I must say something…

The bombings happened moments after I left work for the day. I was underground waiting for a train when the first one went off. I knew nothing until my train rose above ground and my phone, along with several others, went crazy with the influx of activity. There is a certain amount of activity that happens on a normal day and then there is the activity when something major happens. As a social media person I can almost sense when it’s something bad before I pull out my phone to check. And when other cellphones were also going berserk, I knew I would not like it.

I have several friends and people I consider family who live if not necessarily in Boston proper, close enough that it gave me pause. Especially on a day like yesterday any where number of them could have been near, if not actively watching the marathon. I immediately checked Twitter and Facebook and had most of my initial worries quickly assuaged that they were safe. Others I had to text or email later on to check on them, but all my not-so-near and dear were accounted for. That left me with just the news and there was a ton of that.

I have been to Boston several times, almost all for party occasions, so my view of the City as a whole is a favorable one. It’s a backdrop to many really good memories for me. I’ve walked along Boylston Street where the explosions occurred, so it was a gut punch the first time I watched footage and recognized it. Broadcast news mostly repeated the same footage of the explosions itself. The internet, as always had them, beat. What struck me most is the one thing that can always be counted on when such events occur. Yes, we expect the police, the emergency service, Fire Departments and other first responders to be there and assist. That is their jobs to run toward the danger when nearly everyone else is running from it, and thank God / God bless them for it.

No, I am referring to The Unintentional Heroes.

The everyday men and women who did not run away, but ran to and stayed to help the hurt and injured until the professionals could take over and sometimes stayed to help again elsewhere afterward. Yes, the images that are going to be the defining ones of this are the images of Carlos Arredondo, the man in the cowboy hat. Like so many others, he immediately jumped into the fray at the site of the first blast to assist. He came upon Mr. Bauman (no first name currently given), who had just lost his legs in the attack. No one, who has seen the instantly iconic photo, is going to quickly forget the image of Arredondo running along side the wheelchair carrying Bauman, pinching a major artery from what remained of Bauman’s leg to keep it from bleeding out as he and two other first responders race to help. Yes, Arredondo’s particular act of heroism should be duly noted as it should and will continue to be.

Still, let it not take anything away from the many acts of heroism, big and small, in the immediate aftermath of the bombings, for every act was truly heroic to the persons being assisted by these John and Jane Q. Publics, many of whom whose names will never be known. All we will ever of them are the various images posted in slide shows from various news sources such as The Huffington Post, The New York Times and of course The Boston Globe.

I guarantee as they all stood celebrating the marathon, did not ask their fellow onlookers about their politics. I guarantee those who ran to help once the bombs went off did not ask the victims about religion. All of it, all of it, is proof positive that we can put all the differences down to celebrate and work together, when it counts.

If only we could hold on to that and make it count everyday, not just special circumstances.

Boston, it’s going to rock you for a bit, we New Yorkers know and understand how that goes. Just remember, the spirit of what made us break ranks and create our own nation over two hundred and thirty years ago still runs through your veins. Trust, you got this.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hey Mami

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries

(aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).

On being addressed as a female progenitor by people, other than the two I actually gave birth to, one time too many:

Him: Hey Mami

Me (annoyed): I am not your mother!

Him (surprised): But it’s just a term of endearment.

Me (eyes rolling): You just laid eyes on me for the first time in your life. I have yet to become an endearment for you to have a term to. It’s rude and an insult to all the women who are mothers, who have put in the work and earned the title.

Him (fishing): Maybe it just means on first sight I think you’ve got what it takes to love and take care of me.

Me (incredulously): Really?

Him (thinking he gained a point): Yeah.

Me (evil smile): So on first sight you think I’ve got what it takes…?

Him (cocky): Yeah.  To cook, clean and  all that good stuff, like a mother would.

Me (trying not to be mean, but failing):  And occasionally whip your ass?

Him (back peddling): No, that’s not what I meant, I…

Me (totally nonplussed at his ignorance by now): And is there’s some Oedipal history I should be aware of?

Him (clueless): What kind of history…?

Me (in full on evil mode): newsflash boy, because most men know better, when it comes to the majority of females you meet on the street addressing us by the title of the first woman whose vagina you came sliding out of, is not considered a compliment to the woman whose vagina you’re trying to slide into. Good-bye.

Want to guess what term of endearment was heard as I walked away? Hint: It rhymes with mucking witch.

Me (not even bothering to turn around): Thank you!
====================

Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 16, 2013

We All Still Know

.
.
We sit and ponder the starkest
in night’s darkest,
catering to the fears we sow.
We all still know
the sum of all our fears denies,
the sun will rise,
revealing truths behind the lies.
And so we trust and carry on,
within the rays of each new dawn.
In night’s darkest, we all still know, the sun will rise.

<>==========<>==========<>

Another Oviellejo.

dVerse ~ Poets  Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 120

Being Human

 

 
A chance design, or all His will?
I wonder still.
Holy? Profane? Scared? Obscene?
What does it mean?
Living each day the best we can,
Being human,
From birth to death each single span.
Combination of what we feel,
And all the ways in which we deal?
I wonder still, what does it mean, being human?

A new Oviellejo to ponder as you wander…

I sat here this morning bemoaning my current bout of insomnia and how it is taking finally its toll on me today. Cranky from lack of rest. Jittery from the excessive amounts of caffeine I’ve already consumed to get me through this day. A day that still has several more long hours in it before I can lay my head to rest and hope I can get some decent sleep tonight.

And then a friend posted a link: 40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

To directly quote from the article “A moving collection of iconic photographs from the last 100 years that demonstrate the heartbreak of loss, the tremendous power of loyalty, and the triumph of the human spirit. Warning: Some of these will make you weep.”

I first saw this article when it came out last year. Some of the photographs will at least give you pause, it got to me then. As I went through these photographs again today, I realize nothing has changed. I felt that same sense of kin. For people from my own country and abroad. I find myself not just sympathetic, but empathetic to so many of them. People I never have and/or never will meet. Their raw moments of joys, pains, fears, courage.

I am reminded once more of the beautiful fragility that is the human element.

And oddly enough, I am suddenly wide awake and no longer cranky. Perspective is everything.

Here’s passing on a little of that perspective for your day:

Seriously, before clicking the link down below, if you’re consuming any food or beverage, put it down. In addition you may want to have a napkin/tissue at the ready for any cryi– I mean for any grit that may get stuck under your eyelid.

40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

Updated to add: I suspect a certain photo of a man in a cowboy during the aftermath of the bombings at the Boston Marathon will be added to this list soon.

====================

Open Link Night — week 92

Unpacking

“I need to stop looking away and unpack my own reaction.”

My fellow blogger and friend, GirlGriot used that gem to describe her gut reaction to something. You can read all about it here.

I was telling a few friends a story of a crazy event that occurred over a year ago. I’ve told this story to several different friends over time, in the same way so I was not thinking about it as i told this group. At least I wasn’t thinking about it until a friend called me out on a racist comment that flew out of my mouth. I took a mental step back for a moment, but she was right. What I had said, even jokingly, was racist. I know it was a not-so-charming stereotype learned from my mother, among other places where such stereotypes are fostered, while I growing up. Still, I had not realized how deep that nasty little bug had dug in it came flying out.

As I said, I’ve told this story before to others in the same manner. I can’t decide if no one else ever noticed it before, or if they had, chose not to say anything. Neither option sits well with me, but the latter especially galls me. Once called on it, I owned up to it, because it was what it was. I know my friends know me better than that. What scares me is that it has been there all this time and I even I had not noticed to check myself.

I’m left wondering what other nasty little deep-rooted gems are waiting to come out and bite me. I’m praying that if it’s something I don’t notice, that it does not take over a year before I’m called out on it.

This Onion Reeks

I woke up this morning still disgusted.

Satirical news site The Onion is known for its quick quips and scathing, if generally tongue in cheek, mockery of current events. The joke officially crossed the line with Oscar nominee, Quvenzhané Wallis of Beasts of the Southern Wild, when someone at the site tweeted “Everyone else seems afraid to say it, but that Quvenzhané Wallis is kind of a c***, right?” (The tweeted version was not censored.)

Yes, the tweet was deleted within minutes of being posted. I’m sure it is because they quickly realized it was appalling on so many levels, but I am also guessing the immediate backlash of an outraged public displaying our collective disgust helped.

It is deplorable to no end that an adult had such a nasty thought about a child.  Let alone be so amused by the repugnance, as to tweet it out to the world.  The c-word as an adjective is by and far still considered one of the most vulgar words one can use against a woman. Yet someone at The Onion thought it was okay, in fact funny, to use such against a young child. How young? Nine years old, young; young enough to carry puppy themed purses to the all of the award events to which her talent has been acknowledged, young.

And on the biggest night of her young life, thus far, someone thought it was satirically brilliant to call her the c-word before the world.  I’m sure Wallis’ mother appreciated the astute, rapier-witted humor The Onion had for her child.

Not that any word picking on a child, especially on such a prestigious night, would have been acceptable, but why that word?  Why a word with such sexual connotations? Why against a child? And let’s just throw it out there, why against a Black child?  Because being an adult actress of color in Hollywood is such a cake walk as it is. Let’s give Quvenzhané something to look forward to as she pursues her career.

And As sexist and misogynist as many of Seth McFarland’s jokes were throughout the night, The Onion in one loutish tweet suddenly made him a class act. I will however quote him on one joke he got right regarding Quvenzhané Wallis “You’ll be at the future Oscars when the rest of us are dead.”

Yes, with talent like hers, she will be at many more Oscars and when she finally wins…?

Boy, oh boy, I cannot wait to hear her acceptance speech then!

Judge Not, Lest Ye…

Ulanda Williams, a social worker in New York City, fell into a hole when the sidewalk beneath her collapsed last week. Ms. Williams was waiting for a bus and sought shelter under an awning when it began to rain when the ground gave way seconds later. Not falling straight through to the cellar below, she wound up wedged in the hole instead, it took special FDNY equipment to pull her out. She was taken to a hospital and was released the next day.  Ms. Williams was extremely fortunate that her injuries were limited to a broken arm, cuts, scrapes and bruises.  Apparently EMS and FDNY concurred that a smaller person may have died from the drop. It is Ulanda’s size that likely saved her life.

And that (her size), as they say, is the rub.

Granted, in each article I’ve read, the news sources have taken care to mention that upon inspection it was determined by the NYC Department of Buildings that defective steel doors and a loose staircase were partially responsible for the four- by-six-foot slab of concrete’s collapse. However, that part of the story is almost seems a side-note to the main article. Why?

Because in each of the sources that I’ve read, the story was not that a woman nearly fell to her possible death due to a poorly maintained structure. The immediate focus for each of them was that the woman in question was nearly six and a half feet tall and weighed 400 pounds, according to the New York Post. Yes, Ms. Williams is in one word fat. Journalisms presumed penchant for being unbiased (yeah I know), went out the freaking window once her size was known. Don’t believe me?

Here is the lead-in line for the Huffington Post article? “Looks like she got her big break.”

The New York Post’s opening salvo? “Size does matter!

Oh, and my personal favorite, the first sentence from RoadRunner:  “Whoever says good things come in small packages hasn’t met Ulanda Williams. Williams, who is 32 years old and tips the scales at 400 pounds, claims she owes her life to her trailer-truck physique.

Oh, look they so funny! So why the hell am I not laughing?

Why is it when something happens to a person of size in the news it becomes all about the fat?

Even in their headlines, headers and web links, the view is already skewed to immediately blame the victim.

*Woman who fell through sidewalk says her ‘girth’ saved her

*http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/too_big_to_fall_Fz8VbWLT2tMkq9gvShHF0J

*Ulanda Williams, 400-lb Woman, Falls Through Sidewalk In New York City

I am not saying that her weight did not contribute to the incident.  My complaint is how the media specifically and the public at large focused mainly on her weight as the culprit. Fellow blogger and someone I’m lucky to call friend, TheNatural54 rightly notes that if this were two men of average size who had fallen, or even a tackle for the Jets or Giants football team (because we know tackles are rarely small guys), the focus would be more on the badly maintained property and not their weight.

I generally do not read the comments on such stories unless I just want to be pissed off and appalled at a bunch of strangers who are never worth the energy spent in the ensuing foul mood that will then color my day.  Unfortunately, because this story came to my attention from various fronts, I wound up reading quite a few comments and yes, I was pissed. From their view it seems the concrete collapsing would never have happened to someone of a smaller size and that just is not accurate. But for the sake of devil’s advocacy let’s just say it really was all about the poundage.  What is it about being over a very subjective number that a person is no longer considered worthy of basic decency and respect anyway?  The mocking bullshit tweeted by Rupert Murdock before issuing a not even half-assed retraction (because it damn sure was not an apology), notwithstanding – the general public is absolutely vicious and loves using the mask of the internet to spew its fat hating vitriol, especially fat women.

If it had been a smaller woman who fell there would be much sympathy for her and anger against the building owners/managers.  Ulanda Williams has cuts, scrapes, bruises and an arm broken in not just one, but two places from her ordeal, why does her weight not entitle her  to such?

Judge not, lest ye…

Don’t Know Why

I’m sitting here, just sitting here, wrapped in your memory
It’s one so deep in my heart and I really know that I should let it be
But it’s like a sad, sad love song stuck on the same sad, sad refrain
I can’t stop myself from feeling this, even though it’s all just pure pain

But here you are locked within my heart
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why

I admit I didn’t think, I’d make it through those first heartbreak days
But much time has passed and I’ve been just fine since we parted ways
I laugh at our past, brush it away, I got over the things I miss
So I do not understand why today I am so deeply feeling this

Because here you are locked within my spirit
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why

I can’t seem
I can’t seem to excise my heart from you
It’s a struggle
It’s a struggle I thought was through
But your smile, our laughter, all we had
Is right here at easy recall
Oh, we sure were worth the rise, baby
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,
No, I just can’t redo that fall

Yet here you are locked within my soul,
As if we never said goodbye
And I just want to cry, feel like I want to die
And I don’t why
No, I don’t know why

<>==========<>==========<>

Trying to excise a memory

dVerse ~Poet Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 79