BACKSTAGE JOURNAL:

The Rough Road to Becoming the Next

Opera Diva
Before you go on, I should tell you that this is not a story of a Maria Callas, nor that of
the next Cecilia Bartoli. I am no more than a mere mortal whose passion just happens to lie
in the same area of interest: singing. Now in this first entry, I would not be talking about my
beautiful voice (if you could call it that) or how I succeed in the classical music industry
(heck if I did, I wouldnt be here, talking about this), if thats what youre after. These next
few sentences hold mainly the story of a little girl who fell in and out (and in again) of love
with music and the choices that led her to do so. I warn you, at any point of this story you
may lose interest and I dont blame you if you do, but I would really appreciate if you stuck
with me to the end. ;)
So here goes
If there was one thing I learned in studying music, it was that being a musician is not
for the weak hearted. Music is this beautiful work of art that is beyond any word of
description. It can inspire, motivate and comfort you, but in the same manner, has the
power to frustrate, discourage and in every way destroy your spirit. So if you are expecting
this entry to be a happy musical fairytale, then I suggest you stop reading now. Music is
something bigger than what most of us can imagine. It can very much build you upor just
as easily break you down.
When I was a kid, around five or six years old, music seemed to me as something so
simple and ordinary that you dont have to think about it. Somewhat like the feeling of
overlooking a tiny yet significant detail in a landscape, it fit perfectly into place that I
couldnt imagine it being something we could label as separate. My father played the guitar
often at homenothing too serious to the point of becoming a profession, but serious
enough that you could sense the passion oozing from the strings he strummed. I think it was
through his playing that I started to get used to it, but my biggest influence during those
times would have to be my older sister. Today, I cant really remember my younger self
making the effort to listen to any type of music, rather I would simply stay at home and hear
my sister belt out the songs of Celine Dion and the ballads of local pop star, Regine
Velasquez. To put it simply, my first impression of music was this natural and essential part
of life that, much like all other things in my childlike eyes, was nothing special.

That all changed of course when I actually started singing.

I still remembered that day as if it were only yesterday (yes, I just had to use this
clich). It was during class time (I was six) and my classmates and I were all busy preparing
for the mid-year program presentation for the schoolwhich means tiny kids (us) in cute,
adorable costumes dancing around on stage in front of older schoolmates, friends, parents
and familywhen our music teacher walked in and called me out to the corridor. I could still
recall myself being quite nervous and clueless at the same time as to what was going on
when she told me that I would be singing for the program that was to be held the next day.
And there I was, naive and unknowing, shrugged it off with an okay. The next thing I knew,
there I was literally on center stage, holding the mic, blurting out melodies I learnt the day
before in front an audience. My entire family (and I do not exaggerate when I say this) was
so supportive of me getting my very first break that the actual thrill and excitement was
probably doubled in intensity. To make this brief, it was then that I first realized that I was
actually blessed from the Heavens above with the gift of music.
But, as any typical kid would soon find out (except perhaps for Peter Pan), there came
a point in my life that I would cross the line between childhood and reasonI was about to
graduate grade school.

Now most people would find the graduation period as a time of

excitement and possibilities but back then, I recalled it a time of stress. I was pressuring
myself to get into a scholarship that would help me glide off four years of high school tuition
so I could help my parents with our financials. With much luck, I got into the only arts high
school of the country (via scholarship) majoring in music-classical voice performance, hence
began my formal journey of being a so-called opera diva.
And there I was, after years of childhood innocence and simplicity, about to enter a
musical world much more complicated than what I was used to. Although at that time I
confess I was more caught up with the scholarship I just received: free tuition; free food; free
dorm; free everything! All I had to do was singor so I thought. Of the four years I spent
formally studying music I learned that it was much more difficult than what most of us
perceived to be.
The training was grueling (not that Im complaining or anything), but at that point in
my life, I was tossed back and forth from a place of passion and a state of burning out. And
like in a tennis match, I knew that one strike would get to decide how I enter the next stages
of my life.