The First One

There is always the moment before you start writing when you sit, looking at a blank screen, wondering how to start. All that was going through my head was "it's this, or the novel about the Alaskan wilderness with the ax murderer".

Have you ever wondered how many opera singers there are in New York City? Let me narrow it down--we already know all about the famous ones and how great they are. I'm more curious about the not-yet-successful singers. I mean, if we could take a poll, say at Grand Central Station, asking what people are doing in NYC, I wonder how many would answer that they are here to study opera. My theory is that it's actually less than people think, but then I don't really know what people think.

Regardless, I am one of many young opera singers in the city. I moved here two months ago to study with a fabulous teacher and to become a better (and bankrupt) musician. So far, I am happy to say that everything is going according to plan.

My goal for this blog is to record my year (or first year) in New York. I realized tonight, while talking to my brother on the phone, that there is way too much going on in my life to not record it. (Consequently, there is also way too much going on in my life to record it all, so I'll try to find a happy medium.)

Moving to New York City after growing up in a tiny town in Alaska (a few miles further west and you can see Russia...) is obviously a big adjustment. Rather than go through all the events that have transpired (although at some point I should recall the strolling-and-entry thieving that happened the third night in my apartment, as well as my adventure at Yankee Stadium) I'll just say that I have met some incredible people in my first weeks here, and have received help from many sources, both human and Divine. I have discovered that New Yorkers, while perhaps louder and more aggressive, are also the ultimate humanitarians. You just might not always catch them at the best time. Seriously, though, I've met some amazing people in the past two months. It just goes to show that you're never alone and that people do care about you.

One example that I'll include was an email I received from the priest at the parish where I hold a church music position. After a long, semi-depressing day of YA and grad school app. preparation (preparation for the inevitable rejection, that is...) I got this email:
Dear Elena,
I have an "in" with the angelic choirs and you should know that I have requested my personal guardian angel, Guido "The Hammer" Bombardi to keep an eye on you. He has spent most of his guard duty in the Bronx before coming to watch out over me. He needs a little "Youth" ministry now. So, when good things happen...say "Thank you, Guido." He doesn't ask for much, just a thank you from time to time and a fresh cannoli on the window sill."

I think I'll go get a cannoli.
Soli Deo Gloria.