A Day In The Life

Many years ago I was a student at a certain southern university.   The music department on that Louisiana campus was full of highly skilled, talented, ambitious and arrogant music students.  I ought to know.  I was one of them.  The performing arts building had a wonderfully dramatic,  intense atmosphere, rife with intrigue and halls that were always echoing with  music.  The vocal instructors were just as competitive as their students.  They pushed and prodded us, encouraging us one minute while tearing us to shreds with brutal honesty about our performances the next.   The stress level was high.  The competition was cut-throat.  It was exhilarating.  It was frightening.  It was beautiful.  It was music.

During my freshman and sophomore years, I had participated in several opera performances as a chorus member and in some very minor roles.  As a 20-year old college junior, my vocal instructor informed me that I was ready for a leading role.  The opera production that year was  Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro.  Madame told me that I would audition for the female leading role and who was I to argue with her.  I’d been a prima donna since birth and it was high time the rest of the world recognized me as such.  Thus began a period of preparation and practice rigorous enough to prepare me for the vocal olympics if there was such a thing.  Madame practically controlled my every waking moment from singing endless vocalises to improve my vocal flexibility to physical conditioning to increase my stamina. 

The audition date finally arrived.  Only two other young women besides myself were auditioning for the part of Susanna, the female lead in The Marriage of Figaro.  I know it must sound horrible, but I was only concerned with one of them.  The other poor girl just didn’t stand a chance.  The battle lines were drawn between myself and my arch-rival, Miss H.  I must say that my audition was wonderful.  I was Susanna, a scheming, seductive and voluptuous little maid in the employ of Il Conte de Almavira.  Every note was perfectly tuned, every rhythm precise, every vocal nuance perfected.  I flirted, I flounced, I sang my heart out and I got the part. 

Ah, that’s enough for this evening. The prima donna will return to finish the story at a later date.