And now for something completely different

Just some thoughts on singing and performing

I’m taking a break this week from running content and the continuation of the post-Cocodona dissection of every tiny thing. Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be back soon. But I wanted to take a moment and remind myself that running isn’t everything. I have lots of activities that bring more joy and fulfillment. Performing and singing are the two big ones.

This past March, I took part in a Robin Hood concert. With just a week of rehearsal and all new-to-me music, it was a big challenge. The concert was part of the impetus for me to purchase a keyboard on Facebook Marketplace. I don’t play piano much, but I know enough music to plunk on the melody I’m trying to learn, check my pitch, and warm up. Having a keyboard back in the house, while not used daily or even weekly, is a bit of a comfort. I can always turn it on and sing a few songs. Singing almost always brings my mood up (and it’s been low for a few weeks).

Love Flew in at the Window

A week ago, I had the chance to sing at our local County Rest Home. The residents love hearing everyone play or sing, from beginning piano students to adult vocal students like me. Singing is a gift, and I love sharing it with others.

Vanilla Ice Cream from “She Loves Me”

I recently got a soapbox, too: Stop saying you can’t sing! Singing is a muscle, like anything else; if you want to learn, you can. You may not have great pitch or the nicest vocal tone, but anyone who is taught properly can learn to sing.

Also on my mind is a group I was part of in Los Angeles. What started as a fairly typical workshop spot for actors to meet casting directors turned into an incredible nonprofit community of performers. The Collaborative was created when many of the regular attendees wanted to create a different type of workshop space. We became an audition-based group, a place where strong and serious actors came together with other strong and serious actors to sharpen our skills.

We began to make our own short films together (and guess who headed up the production side of things?) and hosted forums not just with casting directors, but writers, showrunners, and directors. (This is how I got my showrunner assistant job and worked in TV for 7 years).

But it was the people who made it special. We all wanted the best for each other. Unlike other spaces in Los Angeles, there was little competition and comparison. We were excited when others got auditions or booked jobs. We jumped at the chance to help others make a great self-tape in our studio. I vividly remember getting ready to head to a workshop one night when I got a phone call from a number I didn’t have saved. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Alex. My printer isn’t working. Can you print out a copy of my resume for me if I email it to you?”

“Of course!”

How he knew to call me, I have no idea, but I got his resume printed and ready for class that night. Our contact sheet paid off, and our community shone brighter.

A member took such serious black-and-white photos of all of us for publicity.

There are lots of things I don’t miss about LA, but the people are not one of them. The friends I made in that group are near and dear to me, even if we talk infrequently now.

Something about performing together creates a deep bond of trust. I’m so grateful to be finding those people and places here in Bozeman. Because I do adore running and am not stopping anytime soon. But there is also something so magical about a dark theater and a bright light. I am so lucky to have these passions and the ability to pursue them among amazing people who push me to be better every day.