I'm verklempt - and I'm not even sure what the word means.
Just received a PM from adamrocks - - and saw that seoulmate noticed I haven't posted about this amazing news yet. Makes me feel wonderful! Really! I have this 'other' life - like all of us - and, frankly, it hasn't been a bowl of cherries lately. I've had sad. Not much else. Leave it to Adam to lead me back to joy!
I felt useless adding my particular twist of angst about an '80s cover album. Being that I'm approaching fossil status, I will admit now I thought it might be a good idea. Adam sings EVERY song better than the original; and as the years pile on, nostalgia becomes pretty enticing.
Thank goodness I didn't post.
GLEE is the perfect fit for Adam! He knows this! Yeah, he's a theatre kid - - - but he's born and bred and begat from the high school music department. So was I. He will bring true experience - the 'I have lived this' knowledge to GLEE.
The music room - the choir room - was my home in high school. My best friends were fellow altos, or tenors, or like-minded sopranos; trying to discover the music that hid within us. We needed to find our voices. We listened to ourselves too much - in doing so, we swallowed the freedom of a voice that had wings. My first teacher, Mr. Hansen, began the dialogue. "Music is an art; the medium of which is sound" - he told us - first day of 'choir'. Wanting to sing, needing to be excellent, most of us listened to ourselves with our ears; not our hearts. I know that sounds simplistic and silly. But it is true. Cassie, I am sure, will agree. You cannot find your voice if you listen with your ears. You find your voice when you allow your sound to be free.
I'm digressing; and I've barely come back from far away.
Basically, I think Adam will bring the heart of the child in the choir room to GLEE. I've never seen the show; haven't watched TV in a long time. That will change come Sept. 19. Adam knows the music room. He knows rehearsal; singing with your best friends; making the sound happen; shouldering the burden when it doesn't. He knows the pain of auditioning for the lead - and your competition is your best friend. How to tell someone who is trying, very hard, to excel; and their voice or interpretation doesn't match the desire . . . they are someone you love, too. He's learned how to love the friend, still, who gets the part; how to tell yourself you will survive.
Adam also knows theatre performance. It's a bigger stage, but feelings remain the same. You compete with roommates! You begin to understand where you shine. You begin to understand favors and favorites.
Honesty may become a theme. Honesty is always a goal - in theatre and in life.
I'm reminded of what Adam's Unca Dave told me - 2 1/2 years ago. "I was downstairs, and I heard something. I asked Leila 'What is that?' 'It's Adam'. I went up the stairs and opened the door a crack, and listened to the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Adam singing."
This GLEE scenario can be HS or Broadway . . .
The players hear something. They are already there - in the rehearsal studio; or off stage; wherever - trying to find the 'office' of the new musical director, or music teacher. They follow the sound. They open the door a crack, see a silohuette, and listen to the most beautiful voice they've ever heard.
Adam is far too humble to cast this scenario. But I'm not!! It's my truth; not just Unca Dave's.
I want to find the adjectives, the flowery, symbolic, effervescent words that will plant my being squarely among you. In a meaningful, straightforward way.
I can't do it. I can only live it. I'm learning more about all this remarkable baggage of living that we carry. I've watched my mother's ashes dance away in the current of Hawaii; and watched my uncle's adorned casket descend below. Are they free at last?
Adam's voice unchains me. No matter what is happening; and, believe me, it has happened - Adam's voice brings me optimism, abandonment, an orgasmic understanding of my physical self - which leads to freedom, acceptance and universal love. "I am dancing!" I say! Joyful tears rain down. Sometimes it's hard to see through the window of this crazy train. I'm blinded by the light; and then, revealed by the light that shows I'm just me. Thankfully, that's enough.
