V is for VPPW

VPPW stands for Vocal Performance Preparation Workshop. This workshop was run by Amanda Brunk of the Singers Theatre and Angela Burns. The workshop was the whole weekend long. It started on Saturday with yoga tought by Angela Burns. Angie started the class by making us do the craziest pose in the history of yoga. It was called Goddess. The goddess we were trying to portray was the goddedss Kali. In the Hindu tradition when demons died, their blood would spill and more demons would come out of the blood. This goddess has a really long tongue so that she could lick up all the blood before another demon would grow. So in this yoga pose we had to squat down, our hands out like a scale, our tongues out as far as possible, and our eyes crossed. You have to see it to see how unbelievably weird it is. Unfortunately, I could find no pictures on Google.

The second thing we did were mock auditions. The purpose of this was to see what the panel was actually thinking about your audition and know what to do and what not to do. We sang our songs and got casted for a part in either Little Women or Annie. Once we all sang, we got told how we would do on that particular kind of audition. Or, we would have to sing another song, in which case we had to have a song ready to go and sing unexpectedly which can happen at auditions. I sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I didn't really think about that I was supposed to be auditioning for Annie but I sang it anyway, and like I expected, I was cast as chorus member. Not because I can't sing, but because I didn't have an Annie or Pepper or Molly kind of voice. I learned a lot about auditioning and about people's mistakes. For instance, this one girl came in with her song, and it was in a different key then when she had been practicing. So yes, it kind of sucked but it was kind of helpful to see that you absolutely cannot do that. You have to know what the piano part sounds like otherwise you fail. Another 'bad' example was a fifteen year old girl singing about how her husband is cheating on her and how she's so fed up with it. This would be an example on bad song choice. The song has to make sense to your age and gender. You can't really sing 'Be Kind To Your Parents' when your fourty five. And the other way around, you can't sing 'Cabaret' when your twelve for an audition or a performance because it just doesn't make any sense. So this concludes that song choice is very important to how you do on an audition.

The next workshop was belting. I was thinking:
'Oh no. This is gonna suck. I will totally fail this as epically as can possily can be failed but I'll do it anyway for fun.'
It turned out not to be as bad as I thought it was going to be. Most of the class was focussed on saying that belting can hurt your voice, but only if you do it improperly which is why if you want to try and belt without not being able to sing ever afterwards you should probably see a trained teacher. We all sang a belting song and we were tought how to belt it. I sang Cabaret which I felt bad about doing because Amanda #2 had said only that morning that a twelve year-old shouldn't really be singing Cabaret. But afterwards I felt it was a fine choice since I was trying to learn how to belt and this was most definately a belting song. Out of all the people that were there in that class, no one was a true belter. Allthough in the class before there was one girl who could sing like hell and belt it out too.
I think I got a lot better. My voice was a voice I had never heard before. It was truly a weird experience. To have this huge sound come from you and it seems like no big deal at all. I can't even egin to describe how weird it felt. My mom said to that I had completely transformed from the voice that I had sang the song in in the car.

The next day I started with resume writing. I only thought trends were for clothes and hair but resume writing has its own trend. We were supposed to have a big picture of us head and shoulders and then someone intervened and said that the panel prefers to only see the face or that you should put your glossy picture on the back of your resume so that its easier but then someone says that no, the panel these days doesn't want to flip the page and so on and so forth. So theres this big battle going on about where the pictures are supposed to be taken and whether you should dress up for the photo or not (which they agreed they shouldn't)and all this stuff they we were trying to frantically taking notes of then scratching out and then writing them again. it was fun though never the less.

The last thing we did was vocal adjudications. This was kind of like Kiwanis in that you sang, you sat down, you let the adjudicator write the other person goes up and sings and repeats the whole cycle again. It was unlike Kiwanis in a sense that it was a lot less nerve racking and a lot more fun ecause of that. When we weren't in one of the catagories, we went to the back room and sang random songs together and sang our hearts out. We would figure out this whole choreography and everything. The song we sang most was Your the One I Want from grease. It was a lot of fun. Also watching the other people perform was very interesting. You can tell which people really loved doing this kind of stuff and how much every word of every song meaned so much to them. Their characters came alive. those were the people who you sat and watched. The others were people who came there because their parents told them they should or because their teacher said they should. Those were the ones where you would talk to your friends behind you about some great show you saw last year or something like that.

When the adjudicator went to a different room to write decide what awards people should get we all surrounded the piano and sang 'Tomorrow' from Annie. It was a truly amazing experience to sing along woth twenty people who are singing this song like there's nothing else more important than making sure that tomorrow will come. Everbody was also singing the best they could which you don't always get from a school choir. They were also all really good strong singers so that might have helped.

Overall it was a really fun weekend. I didn't get anything really done on the school side of the spectrum but singing wise it was the greatest weekend I ever had.

Life Lesson: Don't underestimate your powers to learn something.

I commented on Libby's blog this week.

H is for Hockey

When I talk about hockey, I'm talking about the original. Not the horribly uncivilized game that Canadians play on ice since they can't play it an land. I'm talking about the hockey that involves running around till you're half dead. The hockey that requires you to train if you want to be any good. The hockey that devours devotion and keeps asking for more. The hockey that perspires out of your stick. That is what hockey is.

Hockey is the game that I play. It is also the game that many others have played for many years. My dad plays hockey. My brother and sister play Hockey. My friend Isabelle plays hockey. Surprisingly enough, everybody at Field Hockey Ontario plays hockey. Many people play hockey. No wonder really, since it's such a great sport.

With all these people playing hockey, there come memories. Memories of not looking and passing the ball straight to the opposing team who scored the winning goal two seconds before the end whistle. Memories of making the perfect flatch that went straight across the field to the forward who got a short corner. Memories of hitting the ball into the net and hearing the triumphant clunk that satisfies your sweat soaked ears in such a way that that makes you raise your stick above your head and jump for joy. Memories of your team mate scoring the winning goal and practically killing them with a huge tackle to the ground. These are the memories of a hockey player.

That is why people play this sport. This sport of compassion. The memories are of such magnitude and strength that you want to keep experiencing the surge of running with the ball and hearing the crowd shout your name to keep on going or to pass. Even if it's just your mom. Especially if it's your mom. The memories of 'failure' also keep people playing. To make sure that you can do better than that. To prepare yourself for the disappointment and frustration of the coach as he is shouting at you about how bad you know you played, and then get better. Learn and enjoy the experience of it. Getting better.

And that ladies and gentlemen, is what hockey is all about. Not shoving and fighting, but companionship and teamwork. Without it you will be trampled in this game. The game of admiration.

Life Lesson: Many people, even the best, experience failure. And then get better.

I commented on Hayley's blog this week.

O is for Onions and Marina

There is a very interesting connection between Marina and onions. First of all, neither of them brush their teeth. Second of all, Marina seems to devour these things as though they are simply apples that need to be bitten into.

Onions seem to have a knack of attacking her when she is having a friendly conversation with Bamba the cactus about how nice the lamp has been for giving them light.

Two minutes later, a fleet of onions storms her room and start slicing themselves and making her cry. It is a very sad occasion. The world seems to have turned against Marina in her eyes of complete insanity. It probably has. Even Bamba's prickles now turn deadly with poison. His read head now engulfed with rage for Marina had not resisted the urge to cry.

I stand there, in the air, despite the laws of gravity, pitying this poor soul. But pity never gets anyone anywhere does it? Annie Sullivan never gave an ounce of pity towards Helen Keller. Why should Marina and her onion problem be treated any differently?

The answer is no. She shouldn't. The onions are her problem. And yet, I find myself gliding down rather slowly to observe closer what needs to be done to defeat these hideous onions.

I begin to feel sad for these onions. The only way they will be defeated is if I hack through each and every one of those onions with no mercy in my heart. It would be easy enough, I recently bought a "Forever Sharp" chopping knife. The knife is merely 10 metres wide. That should be long enough don't you think?

Yes. It is.


HACK HACK HACK HACK HACK HACK!!!!!!!


The deed is done. The onions are defeated. Marina is now safe. Bamba has turned to his normal state of cute prickliness. The world is now safe from harm of any onions.

Life Lesson: Pity is not excepted. Saving someone from the peril of onions is.

I commented on Lyndsey's blog this week.

S is for Singing

When I sing, everything inside me gets left behind. When I sing, I don't think. When I sing, the world around me escapes it's solidity and leaves behind a misty cloud. When I sing, the audience disappears, all except for the people I know.

When the world sings, the audience sits in awe, knowing no sound more beautiful. Then the world will finally be at peace.

Unfortunately, some people don't want to sing. People seem to think that singing would make them die. They think that the whole world will laugh at them because they supposedly 'can't' sing. Everyone can sing.
People think that when they sing, people will put them down and say things like 'What was that?'. Some people will actually say that but those are really stupid inconsiderate people. Most people who hear someone sing want them to do well.

So the problem lies in making people sing. Even in churches people don't always sing. I find it extremely difficult not to sing, but that's just me. And a lot of other people. In churches I can kind of understand if the pitch isn't right but then you could sing off key and have a great time anyway.

When I lived in Holland, I used to on Christmas go to midnight mass. The only real reason I went there was because I could sing Christmas carols with my dad in whatever other language there was of that particular carol. Very fun singing O come All Ye faithful in Latin. Yet another fun thing about singing.

If you're worried about not sounding very good then live with it and continue to sing. Or you can go to a singing teacher and have fun there. Or join a choir. It is the best way to meet new people and becoming a better singer in general.

Overall, I think singing is the best thing ever. Everyone should sing, not because they have to, but because it's fun.

Life Lesson: If the world sings, peace will come to the world.

I posted a comment on Libby's blog this week.

H is for Home

Imagine you were born in one country, moved to another country half a year later, stayed there for eight years, moved back to the country you were born but in an entirely different place in that country, stayed there for two years, then moved across the Ocean and have been there ever since. Where is home then?

I have dual nationality. Which means that I have two passports. A Dutch one and an American one. I lived in the Netherlands for eight years and my dad is Dutch so it makes sense that I have a Dutch passport. And yet, I have never lived in the U.S. and I still have and American passport because my mom is American. I was also born in England. So where is home? Holland? Or the U.S? Or maybe even England. And now, What about Canada? Questions Attack my head like mosquitoes attack me. Where is Home?

To many people, home is where you live. In your house. To many other people, home is which country you were born or the place of your passport. And then other people say that home is where you spend the most time. Some really weird indecisive people say that they are simply from the planet Earth and are happy not to live in another solar system. So who is right? Where is Home?

Maybe home is everywhere. Like the really weird indecisive people said. Quite frankly that description describes me perfectly.

Every place I've been to seems like home. When I was little I used to sit by the raspberry patch and stuff my face with them. In Holland, I biked everywhere and played with my neighbours every day. In England I spent six days of the week with my best friend Freddie. In Canada I have a bunch of really good friends that I laugh with and have a good time. In the U.S I have friends and a really awesome hygienist and my grandparents. Where I've spent pretty much every summer since I was born.

I think that's maybe why I want to be a circumnavigator. So that my list of where home is can become even bigger than it already is. So I think that home is where ever you think it is. And for me, It's everywhere.

Life Lesson: Home is where you say it is.
I commented on Saski's blog this week.

W is for Writing

It might be strange to think about people writing down somone's every move but people do. The people being written about are not always real, but it still happens nonetheless. That's what writing is all about. It's what gives language arts teachers something to do, something to test people on. Such a lovely thing this concept of writing is, is it not?

When I'm bored, I write (and play the piano). Writing about people gives me such a feeling of empathy with my characters that I feel as though they're one of my best friends. Sometimes horrrible things happen to my characters, sometimes they experience moments of bliss and perfection. It depends on what mood I'm in.

Whenever someone writes something, someone reads it. Reading is such a great way to extend your knowledge of the world in so many ways. When people read, they sit there spilling out all their emotions, while some people simply sit there with a stern expression on their faces, all the emotions growing inside them untill suddenly they explode and all the emotions are all spilling out nonstop. It's muc easier to gradually let out all the emotions then to explode. It's much healthier that way.

My favourite type of writing is script writing. when you write a script, you don't have to worry about describing people so much as worrying about what they're saying and how they say it. Imagining what people's lives can do. Impossible feats accomplished only by one the one person whom you have created. These impossible feats can become reality for as far anyone knows, and somehow, somewhere, someone might achieve it. By making scripts, People can make their visions come alive. When grow up, I want to be a director. It would give me great pleasure.

The world needs more colour. Especially Toronto. All these greys and browns everywhere can't ever give anyone any enjoyment can they? When people write, the world becomes a world full of possibilities and emotions, of strength and hope and joy and love and a bunch of other things. People need inspiration, a way to get out of this horrible bleak world, visit paradise, come back to this horrible bleak world, and change it to what paradise was. Now the world is a colourful and joyful place where people want to be in it. Give people that chance and write your hearts desire.

Life Lesson: Writers are the painters of the world.

I posted a comment on Chloe's post this week.

O is for the Olympics

The Olympics have ended. With a big finale as Sidney Crosby scored the winning goal for Canada. There were so many highlights about these games that I would like to address including Alexander Bilideau doing his amazing first jump in moguls, such an amazing feat would have been absolutely impossible for someone like me, who, in spite of my fearlessness can't jump over a little jump without falling and never trying it again, to do. Another highlight was in the men's' 1500m speed skating event when this Russian guy called Ivan Scobrev got on the ice. On the T.V. you could see what the pace line was to beat the time, if you were skating beyond that line, you would be in first place, which Ivan was. Way beyond that line in fact. He was huffing and puffing and seemed as though he was going to fall behind but he didn't. When he crossed the finish line he threw off his hood, looked up at the screen showing his time, and the most magnificent face of the whole Olympic Winter Games was visible for the world to see. It was a mixture between shock, joy and relief that melted on to his open mouthed expression. It is something I will remember for the rest of my life. Unfortunately for him, Mark Tuitert was next and got another gold for Holland (YEAH!!!), the guy that he was against (Havard Bokko) got bronze, and Shani Davis got silver. I felt sad for the Russian guy.

With all the highlights there were lowlights as well. Very sad lowlights. The whole 16 million people in the Netherlands were watching as Sven Kramer was making the Olympic record in the 5km speed skating race. I was clapping and cheering my heart out until the commentator said,

Wait, there seems to be a problem. It seems to be that Sven Kramer of The Netherlands has been disqualified for incorrect lane changing.'

That's about when my dad called from India to tell us that it was three o'clock in the morning there in India and that Sven Kramer actually did get disqualified. It was quite horrible. Imagine how Sven might feel. I can tell you, its anything but good. Oh well, it was just an Olympic gold medal right?

Another thing about the Olympics was the mistakes. I asked one of my teachers and she said that there was absolutely wrong just a few minor misshaps. In the eyes of the rest of the world however, things like a tower not rising at the opening ceremonies was an event of shame upon Canada. What was particularly interesting was that with the first race of the speed skating event, the zambonies spilled hot water everywhere and caused an hour delay. You have my teacher saying that it was great how it was fixed in only an hour, and you also have Erben Wennemars commentating on the dutch radio saying how shameful it must be for Canada to be in this position and a bunch of other stuff. Nationalism, something I will never understand.

I do think though that this was a wonderful Olympics that was very exciting to watch and I enjoyed it very much. Especially the Norwegian men's' curling pants.

Life Lesson: The Olympics only come four times a year. Don't mess up.