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operaexpatria

I should explain the title. 

Opera: Originally from the Latin opus, opera. 1) Work, works. 2) Grand art form; demands immense patience, cooperation, self-reliance, self-knowledge, creativity, talent, charisma, and sheer force of will.

Ex: From Latin; out of, from.

Patria: From Latin; homeland, country, fatherland.

I work far from my country of birth. I perform works of grand art far from my fatherland, although am not always able to render their grandiosity. I am an expatriate. I am female. I am occasionally plural. I am often pluralistic. I am a recovering Latin nerd.

I left my place of birth in 2007 to pursue a career in the world of professional classical music as a singer. I have performed on stages large and small, pieces eternal and (mercifully) flash-in-the-pan. I hear no far more often than I hear yes. I learned how to pack light. I try to be brave.

This is a new year, a new experiment, a new start. This is the end of things, the withdrawing tide, the turning wheel. 

I miss writing; I miss the challenge of creating from nothing. Write what you know. I know how to sing. I have one night stands with languages, make twenty-four hour friends with novels, but I know who I come home to at night. For the past seven years, I have been submerged in singing. I act as a conduit for someone else’s words, through the filter of someone else’s music. It consumes what it requires. It eats more than it metabolises.

I can’t promise to always be clear, articulate, or to speak in layman’s terms. I understand that one day, perhaps, there will be an audience. All I wish is to set down the thoughts and experiences of this time, in this mind, in this job.

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.
Theodore Roosevelt