Sunday, April 01, 2007

The Me I Wanted to Be

I want to thank very much everyone who contributed to such a lively discussion in the previous post.

I am sorry that I haven't been able to keep up. As I've said, my mind is preoccupied. I thought once I gave notice at work that things would slow down as I started to wrap up, but it's been as busy as ever. When I'm not dealing with that, my brain is bogged down with hopes, dreams and panic attacks about the move. Every morning, as I step into the shower, I involuntarily ask myself, out loud, "Are you sure about this?"

No. No, actually, right now, I'm pretty damn scared. I am hurting already about the friends I leave behind. I know there are new friends in my future, and old friends who've stuck together despite the years and the miles and the transitions waiting for me on the other side.

As always, the spectre of my unrealized career ambitions looms large over all of this. A new acquaintance came by yesterday to look at some of the furniture I'm giving away. He noticed the framed posters I have in my entry way from some of the performances I did in Switzerland. "Wow, how amazing that you sang with these people!" he exclaimed. Indeed. Then there are the black and white production photos in the hall: my debut, an opera in Zurich, and the world premiere of a Philip Glass opera in Chicago, among others. "These are awesome!" he said. Yeah. They are.

Part of what makes this hard is that this really closes the door on those ambitions. No, I haven't made any attempt at resurrecting my singing career since that awful day nearly four years ago when despair, frustration and financial concerns led me to abandon my dreams and a decade of hard work. Over time, my voice has healed. Physically, I think I could do it again. It's still there. But my heart was broken. I don't have the drive anymore.

So I'm not just leaving a city, I'm leaving a life, a dream that almost was. I should be -- no, I am, I am -- grateful for the opportunities I had. I went further than most. But three weeks from today, as I turn right on 179th Street and point the rental car toward New Jersey and beyond to Oregon, it's not just going to be the George Washington Bridge in the rear view mirror, but the me I wanted to be.


Jeremiah said...

You may be leaving the person you wanted to become - behind.

I know for me, it took me a geographic from Miami to Montreal to really define the man I would become today.

"Regrets are a waste of time. They are the past crippling you in the present."

A door may be closing, but you know whenever God closes a door, he always leaves a window open.

We will be with you all the way.


Gino said...

the person you are, or want to be, will always be there.

dude, i'm a millworker. decisions made way back made me that, combined with other things beyond my control, whether i wanted it or not.

i've learned to accept that what i do for somebody else from 9-5 doesnt define me. and it never will.
my life is best summed up by those who's lives i've touched, and what i leave behind in my wake.

it the love in your life that counts, and how far you spread it to others.

i will be making a similar move, for some similar reasons, and also for different ones. i feel your pain, and i'm cheering you on.

Jade said...

Andy - Are any of us really sure of anything?

Try not to look at it as leaving something behind, but moving forward to the next part of your life. Change is always scary, however I believe you have prepared yourself as well as you can for this adventure. This move may not necessarily the final nail in your singing career... your talent may serve you yet even with the change of venue.

kr said...

Physically, I think I could do it again

well ... I know it doesn't even begin to make up for the tragedy ... but I am glad to hear this.

And I am sure God is glad to hear you raise your voice on Sundays (and every other day) as well.

At the same time, I understand how frustrating it can be to "heal" when it makes no apparent sense to bother being healed ... we just have to trust ... .

lu ...