Late Night Ramblings

After talking with a good friend of mine this weekend, I can’t stop thinking about the value of marriage, versus the value we place, or don’t place, on marriage in the 21st century. 

In May 2001, the CDC released a survey reporting that 20% of all first marriages end in divorce by the 5th year of the marriage.  It further reported 50% ended in divorce by year 20.  Interestingly enough, these statistics were higher for people who married earlier (only 5% total when the women were at least 35 when they married).

For those of you who hate statistics, let’s look at the performing profession.  My friend, in the beginning of a new singing gig, said all of her friends there (who shall remain beyond nameless) who were married had already begun cheating on their spouses while away.  Scary!?  Then again, we all know someone, if not ourselves, who eats it all up at the checkout line when it’s Jessica Simpson or Brad Pitt doing the divorcing or potential cheating.

With partnerships becoming as successful as marriages, if not more, and the rise of older, single women deciding to raise children alone, I have to assume most of this is the direct result of the same factors our teachers lectured us about since the 6th grade - sex and "peer pressure."

I joke around that I was married at such a young age (22) because I played the game of Life (you know the one with the pegs and the little cars that have to stop at the chapel) one too many times as a child.  Seriously though, how many times have we heard our friends starting to notice all of their friends getting married or having babies?  Somehow, our clocks tick, and we’re afraid of what will happen to us if we don’t find someone to give purpose to our lives soon.  All of the unintended "peer pressure" aside, what ever happened to finding purpose in our own lives before committing ourselves to someone else’s too?

As for the sex, perhaps I’m just bitter because my housemate, for the love of hot water, doomed me to the fate of having to take a very cold shower after an already freezing weekend in Cleveland.  Despite my Christian beliefs and subsequent sacrifice of once waiting for marriage, I always have been a sensual person and never did like cold showers. 

Although I married my ex-husband for many more reasons than simply pressure and sexual frustration, 22 years is a long time to wait and an incredibly good excuse to shorten an engagement to only 3 months.  Married at 22 with little life experience, no sexual experience, and just barely more than a year to get to know my husband before marriage, one hardly wonders how I became a statistic. 

Now that I’m single again, I find myself wondering about it all.  I wish I were as enlightened, patient, and determined as my friend Trey, who married his wife Kristin after years of waiting against all odds, fully certain he had heard from God that they were intended for marriage to one another.  But few of us hear from God that clearly, and even fewer really listen to him in the end.  For those who can wait and do and have successful marriages, your life is truly a beautiful miracle.

Would I recommend it to your average person or even, dare I say your average person of faith?  Not unless you can look at yourself and say you know yourself fully, and not unless you have known your intended long enough to say you’ve been patient enough to know them too.

The worst thing is watching someone you love follow the very same pattern of rushing into marriage because, like you, they have decided to wait for sex.  When your own life example obviously wasn’t enough to make any kind of impact, it’s always good to pray for miracles, or at least a stronger person, if they end up on the wrong side of the 50% divorce tracks.

As for my profession, yes, it freaks me out to no end that entire companies of performers cheat on their spouses.  As a 27-year old, divorced, classical student of performance, I suppose I can only work to know myself as fully as I possibly can, keep doing what I love in life, love what I believe, and hope for the best when it comes to love and life.  Finally, I’ve realized - I’m human, and I’m still worth it.  In fact, I always have been.

Happy V-Day.  And much thanks to my mom, who never ceases in her sweetness to send me chocolate from Aunt Charlotte’s in Jersey.  My friends at school are enjoying the chocolate-covered coconut - as am I. 

This year is different, that’s for sure.  Perhaps for once in my life I will have to force myself to look at my past, present, and future and accept them all as they are and may be.  That isn’t such a bad thing, and it’s about time.

I drove past a man playing basketball by himself in the snow this morning and three hours later, he was still there when I came home for lunch.  He seemed to have no problem at all being alone. 

Then I turned on the television for a short period of time and saw Bob Ross, the man who did "The Art of Painting" on public television.  As he painted his happy trees, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in the shoes of these two men, differently absorbed with activity and nature, not overly concerned with the affairs of the world, either nearby or far away.

Then again, how else would we be able to follow the unhappy saga of Dick Cheney’s hunting accident?  In all truth, let’s hope Harry Whittington manages to recover and head back to nature.  Perhaps in the future, he’ll consider spending some time in it without a gun or Dick Cheney.

Did I mention it was V-Day?  Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.  I hope my friends and family know how much I truly love them.

Step right up, folks.  Feel free to read my first (finally, I know) "review."  Sigh.

Thanks to the Baltimore Sun, I can rest assured that I am a "very promising" opera student, capable of delivering "real Mozart" with my friends Mehan McCall and Darren Perry.  Of course, none of our names were actually mentioned.  Oh, but by the way, Meghan and Darren’s "La ci darem la mano" rocked the house.

"For real Mozart, there were opera excerpts featuring very promising student voices from the Maryland Opera Studio."

On my way home tonight after a great superbowl party at my friend Kari’s house, I stopped at a very odd intersection.  I didn’t see any strange people or things - only a little possum turning around.  He didn’t really seem to be chasing his tail or anything, just endlessly turning around in circles. 

My sister has two amazing children and has a new job and a new house she loves.  Her husband was finally promoted this fall.

My cousin, Randy, was just called the "force behind the four stars" (referring to his position of general manager for the Union Square Hospitality Group) in an article about his rise to success in Crain’s New York Business magazine.

Tanner won the Regional Metropolitan Opera Competition and is headed to NYC to compete there in March. 

Cassandra’s got airline tickets to go backpacking in Europe and visit her sister in Italy this spring and is well on her way to becoming a Physician’s Assistant.

I’m headed to Cleveland in two weeks to see Nick do his first major professional role in an opera, and I’m finally settling in to a great new home in College Park and a great master’s program for me in opera performance.  The acting training here is beyond comparison in terms of operatic training. 

"What’s the point?" you ask?  If everything in life seems to be going so well for so many people, then why do I sometimes feel so much like my friend the possum, ever turning in circles without a clear answer as to which way I should go?  Then again, may be he’s got it right.  When you don’t know what to do with yourself, may be it’s okay to turn in circles until you find the right direction.  At least, turning in circles, you’re bound to get some exercise.

On that note, I’m off to learn something about art and music, as "mutual partners."  Wish me success.

Sadness washes,

Like a blanket newly thrown

upon a bright September day.

Aching, from the pain of

knowing nothing can be done

to reverse the chains of the past.

Missing a good man,

hoping his wife will survive

the heartbreak left behind.

Farewell, Enrico.

I just found out today that my old voice teacher, Enrico di Giuseppe, passed on January 6, 2006, from cancer.  He was an amazing man with a beautiful family and a brilliant opera career.  He is missed sorely by many, and I can only pray his wife Lorna finds peace and support in her friends and family in this time more difficult for her than I can imagine.  If you want to see a full article from the New York Times, they have done him far more justice than I can right now.  My favorite highlight from the article, is totally Enrico:

"While some American singers have been known to Italianize their names, Mr. Di Giuseppe’s name was his birthright.  ‘I am not Henry Joseph,’ he told an interviewer in 1973. ‘My parents were from Italy, and I am me!’"

Good bye to a good, good man.