27 June 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
27 June 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
When I was in fourth grade and I didn't make it to our school's drama club, I thought of joining the chorale. When my drama club teacher told me to look for another club to join, I knew what I wanted to audition in. And so I proceeded to the classroom where the chorale audition was going on. I peeked inside and knocked on the door, but not loud enough for anyone to hear me. However, instead of knocking again, I just stood there, watched, and walked away. I settled for the speech club, and joined the school paper in the two school years that followed.
I transferred to another school came freshman year, and I brought my interest in writing for the school paper with me. That, along with my love for singing. However, I kept on missing the audition dates; I would only know about it after it was over. When I was in my third year in high school, I finally got the date. I went to the music room on the said date and time, got myself enlisted, and sang Colors of the Wind, one of favorite songs. I probably went flat on the bridge part, or probably wasn't good enough, or both. I knew, after singing, that the music teacher wasn't satisfied. She played some notes on the piano--scales--for vocalization, but I couldn't follow. I was out of tune. Of course, when the list of the new members was posted, my name wasn't there. I was disappointed, but I somehow expected it. I didn't try again the next school year; I was a senior after all. I chose to focus on my studies and the school paper, of which I was a part of since freshman year. "Not so bad," I thought. "I can't have everything."
I went to college and joined U.P. ICTUS, a Catholic organization in U.P. It has a choir, which doesn't require an audition, so I volunteered myself. We would sing every Tuesday, at the 6 p.m. mass, at the Parish of the Holy Sacrifice inside the campus. I was happy because I was able to do two things I love: writing, because I was taking up journalism, and singing in the choir.
Trying out for the choirs in U.P, like the U.P Concert Chorus and the U.P. Singing Ambassadors, came as shooting for the moon for me. There was no way I could get in, because I knew my capabilities. My singing skills were so raw; I wasn't good enough. So I pushed the thought of auditioning aside, even if I was captivated by the voices of the Singing Ambassadors singing Moon River in my Sociology class when they went from classroom to classroom to invite students to try out.
I was satisfied with singing at the Parish of the Holy Sacrifice with the ICTUS Choir. We had no conductor or a maestro to teach us, and it would've been better if we had one, but it just wasn't the case. Some members who were also part of their respective parish choirs, or those who were part of their high school choirs, shared their music know-how. We would play the notes on the keyboard, schedule practices, learn the pieces, and sing during masses. Come Christmas season, we would go caroling to raise funds for the org.
One of my orgmates, Angel, who already graduated, invited me and another orgmate to audition for Bukas Palad of the Jesuit Music Ministry. Angel was a part of that group, and auditioning is by invitation only. I felt honored that she saw something in me to invite me to join. However, I had quite a lot of things going on--my parents were very strict at that time and I couldn't stay out late. But still, I decided to give the audition a try. When I got to the venue and was standing in front of the seasoned BP members, I got so nervous that I couldn't project my voice. It wasn't loud enough and it was airy.
I thought I could deal with not getting in because my parents wouldn't allow me to join either had I been accepted. But after the audition, when I went out of the room, that was the only time when I realized how much I really wanted it. So I cried. And of course, as expected, I didn't get in.
I graduated from college and worked, but my singing dream didn't die. I wanted to keep singing while working as a magazine writer. So, last December, when my friend Kuya Marco asked if I wanted to join their choir, Kammerchor Manila, I quickly said yes. That night, I went with him to their rehearsal to audition. If I didn't get in, at least I tried. If I didn't get in, that would be my third rejection, but it didn't matter. At least I tried. I sang I Seek You For I Thirst, one of my favorite mass songs. I went out of tune in some parts, but I just repeated the phrase and continued to sing while staring out the window to keep my nervousness from devouring me alive. After singing came the vocalization and singing with the members of the alto section, where I was auditioning for. The conductor then said they're taking me in as trainee, and was told that my evaluation would depend on how I could keep up with the songs they already knew. There were also pieces which we would still learn in preparation for the group's 20th Anniversary Concert.
Five months since I've auditioned, I can say my singing has changed, but I'm not yet there. True, as I've written in a previous post, I was part of the choir's concert. But I still have a long way to go to be able to contribute a lot to the choir. I still have a long way to go to achieve that rich, deep tone that is needed from the alto section. I have to practice more so I can project better when singing while blending with the other voices in the choir.
It's true that there are times when it's hard to juggle work, family, and the choir. But I don't want to give this up. Looking back at my past auditions, I know how much I want to be part of this. I'm thankful to God for giving me this opportunity, and I don't want to waste this.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
For the train to arrive.
Passengers look at their watches countless times,
Eager to go home perhaps to a warm dinner.
But I don't mind waiting
Or staring at the empty railroad track.
Precious minutes may have gone,
But there I am, spending them with you.
Queues of passengers are getting long
Moods are turning dark and sour.
But there I am, still cheery and sweet,
My hand clasped in yours as we talk.
You tell me about your day, about your friends,
About your dreams, big and small.
Then something funny, and we both laugh,
A lighthearted pair among a disgruntled bunch.
Here comes the train, and the doors open.
We get shoved inside by the rush.
There's hardly a space to move or breathe,
But we carve our own little spot, remaining oblivious.
We reach our stop, time to alight,
And time to end our little talk.
We part ways, as I secretly think about
What the next train ride will bring.
09 May 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Since then, my schedule has changed, especially because I joined at a time when the choir was preparing for its 20th Annivesary Concert, held last April 14. We would rehearse twice to thrice a week, to almost every day as the concert date drew near. There were times when I thought of giving up because of exhaustion, thinking, "What have I gotten myself into?" It was hard to divide my time between work and the choir, because both are equally demanding crafts. But when the concert was over, everything was, cliche as it sounds, sooo worth it.
Here are some photos taken by my dad:
|Conductor Anthony Go Villanueva and Kammerchor Manila|
|The choir following the conductor|
|Projecting while getting ready for the next song hehe|
|Me and my partner, Othan, while performing Ikaw Lamang|
|Soloists Tynna and Rufo for the song, Ikaw Lamang|
|Soloists Tynna and Rufo for the song, Ikaw Lamang|
|Me with my proud parents|
Friday, February 3, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
I wish to make music
And let that tiny hum
Blossom into a
I wish to let out a voice
That speaks of my innermost
Desires and affections
Through notes and beats.
I wish to free trapped emotions,
Release them with great power,
Passionate and intense,
As though on a crescendo.
So let me make music,
That I may fade
And surrender to this ensemble,
Producing one great harmony.
23 January 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The infection had been gone two weeks ago, but it left my face super dry as though you're touching a fine sandpaper. The doctor said it was because of the cold weather, so she prescribed a gentle cleanser, moisturizer, and ointment to keep my face from itching.
On the days when my face had not yet returned to its normal state, I didn't put on makeup, not even pressed powder. When I went back to work last Monday, I did so with a shiny face. Seeing my bare face in the mirror made me miss my made up face, but I realized having a bare face once in a while can be liberating. We are not required by company rules to put on makeup all the time, but since our fields involves meeting and interviewing a lot of people, it pays to be presentable. Last Monday was the first time I went to the work with nothing but moisturizer on my face, and it felt good. Nobody said I looked bad.
This afternoon, I went to my dermatologist for my follow-up checkup. She said my face already looks good. She just prescribed the same moisturizer, another cleanser for maintenance (which I will buy when I use up the entire bottle of gentle cleanser), and a hypo-allergenic pressed powder. This served as a reminder for me to be careful with what I put on my face, especially now that it has become extra-sensitive. And that I don't need to put much, because hey, why would I want to cover up good, healthy skin, right? :)