what happens...

when you're halfway done with your junior year of college and you lose interest in what you're majoring in? 

i used to get so excited about music - about having a future in music, about surrounding myself with music and filling my life with it, making music with other musicians, learning more about music. and now when i think about music, my heart feels flat. literally flat. unmoved. without fire. i used to have this burning drive, this passionate desire for music, but i feel like somebody's either hit that desire over the head with a big old brick and knocked it out cold or it's gone and hid from me. or it's died or run away forever. and it's not just music now. it's dance too. i used to love to dance! i've never been the best at it, but i used to get so excited about waking up in the morning and going to tap dancing class, or going to jazz and learning something amazing to do with my body. but i dread it now. i hate to sound selfish like this because i'm getting an education that some people could only ever dream of, but is it terrible for me to feel this way? i feel like the passion's gone.

musical theatre is a very interesting field. it's one of those things that takes a lot of training in order to be able to make it look effortless. and i think that's part of what's been the killjoy - the training. besides my voice lessons with one of the most encouraging teachers i've ever had (not to mention a wonderful mentor), i find no real joy, no peace in the classes that fill my week and drain every bank account my mother has ever opened.

musical theatre... wait, what happened to the theatre part? when i was a kid, i used to play dress-up non stop, running around the house pretending i was the queen of sheba or whatever. i would do impressions of everybody i knew and everybody i saw on TV. and i didn't outgrow it, which is why my parents promptly plucked my butt out of gymnastics and stuck me in acting classes, where i thrived on the attention (surprise of the century, i'm telling you) and the lovely job of pretending i was somebody else twice a week for three hours after school. not that i didn't do it at home anyway, but nobody told me to shut up at the theatre. when i grew older, this theatrical thing turned into a great passion of mine. i got introduced to Shakespeare in middle school, and i went nuts (even at that age). the beauty of the language, the complexity of the characters, the extremities of the plots... it set my heart on fire. and that's what happened with the other plays i read, too. these characters just popped out at me, vivid and palpable. they were beautiful; they were ugly; they were hilarious; they were intensely grotesque in every way. this passion, and the discovery early on in my life that i had a knack for music (i began piano lessons at an early age and started singing around the same time), made it seem like my place in society was to be one of those 'stage-people'. but not just any kind of 'stage-person'...no, no,  a special kind of one that for some reason happens to be a freak of nature who can sing a million songs, play a character, and do a difficult dance in 3 inch heels under blinding lights all at the same time. and if said freak of nature lacks part of this melee of abilities, said freak of nature will presumably become an expert in the lacking area by the time she is 22. what kind of ridiculous career is THAT? for crying out loud, shows these days have nothing to do with the development of a plot, or what the characters really say or think. the 'musicals' are about the music, NOT about the people actually singing. it is said that a large challenge for the musical theatre performer is to gain the ability to justify randomly bursting into song. that's impossible. there's no justification for it. people don't go to see musicals because they make sense in that respect. they know that you're going to burst into song at any moment. you're in an f-ing musical. 

the reason that i love 'the last five years' by jason robert brown is because it is, to me, the perfect musical: it contains 2 characters and an orchestra made up of 4 instruments. there is no clutter, no elaborate staging, no tony-nominated chorus. just a small handful of people taking a story and adding some music to it to make it a little easier to relate to people. with this whole bursting out into song thing - i think that it should be genuine, that it could make sense: you make music out of what you want to say because just saying it isn't quite enough. the music helps it. the music should be subordinate to the text, not the other way around. 

i think this is what frustrates me about my education. as a musical theatre major, i only take 3 real acting classes. all of the classes are taught by the same man: all are centered around the same technique (meisner). the other 3 acting classes are improvisation, stage combat, and period movement. while important, they are considered subordinate to the acting I, II, and III courses. consequently, when i graduate, i know just about everything there is to know about the meisner technique, and basic information about other things so i can stick them on my résumé to make me look more cast-able. however, i know nothing about chekhov, stanislavsky, and little about Shakespeare.

stop being a wuss, janie. go take some acting classes! but no, my dear reader, alas, i cannot. why? because i'm taking 20 hours every semester, and 17 of those hours are music requirements. 

i kid you not. what is so bloody important about music that i have to study it more than i have to do theatre? if i can't connect with the text, what's the point of singing it in the first place? if i don't understand why i start even TALKING in the first place, then why the hell would i want to sing it?

i have a problem with my education. 

this problem has come at a very bad time.

this sucks. a lot.