Category: Life (Page 5 of 5)

Chapter 1: The Devil’s in the Details

I’m living a double-life.

I wake up in the morning, drive to my day job, behave like Tassoula, sound like Tassoula and drive home as Tassoula, but when I step through Tassoula’s front door in the evening, I become Lexy.

Narrating my first book on tape, Schooled, by Christa Charter, has so far been an exhilarating, exciting experience. I’m using my voice in ways I haven’t since I was singing in the 90s; I’m enjoying the book even more than I did the first two times I read it; I’m relishing the escape of morphing into Lexy and the entire cast of characters who color her life.

There’s even a part of me that enjoys the rituals associated with this type of work.

To explain: On days that I’m recording, I limit my speaking—I don’t take phone calls (except texts), I forbid myself from singing in the car, and try to avoid unnecessary conversations in the office. I eat no dairy. I perform breathing exercises I used to use with my music students to warm up. I turn off all of my heat (electric furnaces make a lot of noise); I take the landline phone off the hook and put my obnoxious Smartphone under a pillow; I don’t run the dishwasher or do laundry; I saturate my immediate surroundings with blankets to absorb the sound and prevent echoes. I turn off the Internet so I won’t be tempted to look. I set my laptop on a kitchen trivet to keep it from overheating. I suck on Ricola and Luden’s cherry cough drops to clear my throat and keep water or hot tea with honey at the ready for my breaks. I coat my lips in orange ChapStick to avoid the sounds that dry mouths make. I remove my shoes so I won’t accidentally tap the side of my desk. I check the file settings six—maybe eight—times before hitting “record” to ensure all of the volume levels are equal to the other completed recordings. I turn the lights off except the one I need to read the script. All of this helps me transform into a living, breathing citizen of the Xenon culture.

As I begin to record, I read each page all the way through before I start speaking to ensure there are no pronunciations I need to look up or no accents I need to learn. Then, I place myself in the mind of whomever I’m about to become. Lexy is the easiest because I feel I know her best. I speak an octave higher to communicate her youth, give her a sense of urgency since she’s always hot on the trail, and (hopefully) add a little seduction in there to mirror her physical allure. Her uncle Mike is the most difficult for me because he would undoubtedly have a deep voice and as a soprano, deep voices are hard to achieve without sounding cartoonish. Kim is the closest to my own voice, etc. I have a key that I keep adding to (see photo) with little hints to remind myself what my voice should be doing. I also have to be careful not to “act” too much because as a reader I know how insanely annoying it is when the narrator is trying so hard, they overpower the story.

Schooled stands strong on its own, without theatrics.

When looking back at some childhood report cards not long ago, I noticed that I always got perfect marks in the category that stated, “Reads with interest.”

Let’s hope the audience for this book agrees!

Philip Seymour Hoffman Death Shines Light on Darkness of Addiction

In Seattle, we have a radio show hosted by former child star Danny Bonaduce that I often listen to on my way to work. He has a segment called “Danny Bonaduce Life Coach” where he helps callers with their various problems: divorce, unemployment and most often, addiction.

On this morning’s show a man called in, distressed about getting help for his substance abuse problem in light of financial difficulties. He thought that because he had a disease, his insurance would cover some or all of his treatment for it. But of course, as Danny told him, that wasn’t the case.

Though The Mayo Clinic (and every other notable medical group) validates alcoholism and drug addiction as a disease, our country treats these individuals as lesser members of society.

Though I’m not an addict, I’ve loved and hated addicts all my life. It took me over 30 years to truly understand that they couldn’t control what their bodies were telling them to do, but I got there.

Though their actions may seem selfish, on a purely biological level they are not.

Imagine yourself walking through the dry desert, the hot sun beaming down upon you, dehydrated and starved for even just a drop of water.

At that moment in time, you’d probably trade your clothing, your electronics—anything for a precious drink to quench your unimaginable thirst.

That’s how addicts feel every minute of every day: they’re thirsty for their poison because their bodies are telling them they need that poison to survive.

I was devastated to hear of the recent passing of genius actor Philip Seymour Hoffman. So young, so talented, so unfair.

Even more devastating has been the commentary emerging in the days following his death. Instead of letting his family, friends and fans grieve in peace, our community of haters on the Internet has to shame him, prove they amongst the living are better than he could have been because they’re not laying on a floor with a heroin needle in their arm. At least not yet.

Entertainment Weekly put him on the cover of their next issue, and I applaud them for doing so. What infuriated me were the comments that bubbled up when they posted said cover online on Facebook. Folks who were angry that they were memorializing someone who died of an overdose. They called the deceased “stupid” and worse.

I can’t imagine that those stone throwers have never had to deal with addiction, but boy they’re lucky they dodged that bullet if they haven’t.

From those of us who have experienced it: It’s a horrible existence. For those who deny they have a problem, it’s a constant uphill battle just to keep them alive; for those who admit they have a problem, it’s a struggle to get them help (even if they have the means) because they fear the repercussions to their reputation. They fear that jackasses like the haters on the EW Facebook page will prevent them from getting work, or being accepted at church or attending social functions with loved ones. They fear they’ll lose their dignity, so often times they continue abusing to mask the pain of that fear.

So, how do we solve this?

First, we could take a cue from Portugal, who decriminalized drugs, which decreased drug use in their country dramatically.

Second, we could promote effective treatment centers like the world-renowned Hazleden as places to go for wellness much like a yoga spa rather than make them the punchline of jokes.

Third, we could invite compassion back into the conversation, so when the unthinkable does happen, we help those affected heal instead of demonizing their dearly departed.

Can you imagine taking to a public Facebook page to call a recently passed cancer-victim “stupid?” Neither can I, but cancer and addiction are one and the same: their victims lost a genetic game.

Just like cancer, environmental factors are also to blame (i.e., a smoker that develops lung cancer), but some of us are far more likely to develop an addiction than others.

Have a little heart for those who are losing the fight.

Seattle, Washington, June 3, 2011

1 Swanky Hotel Room (booked in your own city for concert-going convenience)
10 friends from all over the country, all arriving within a few hours of each other
1 Irish pub with a semi-private room and delicious food
1 tribute band performance, emulating the band you’re all in town to see the next day
3 or more alcoholic drinks (per person)
A dash of sunny weather (imported from some other state)

Mix all of the above, starting at Happy Hour, while discussing happy memories, laughing about past hijinks and remembering why you all follow the best living band around the globe. Continue well into the night.

Serves 11+