UselessNews

 The Horrors Persist, Yet So Do I! The Last Rose of Summer After a beautiful trip, I’ve returned to reality: work, work, and yes… more work. Lately, I’ve had a lot cooking in my mind about life, the state of the world, and—what even is this crazy artform? Two weeks ago, I landed at Pearson at 6 a.m. to a beautiful sunrise, then promptly collapsed into a “dead to the world” sleep for the rest of the day. By Friday, I was back to work, Boheme buzzing in my brain. Even while traveling, I’d sneak away to practice, drilling text through long hours of transit and activity. My future brother-in-law often catches me muttering, convinced I’m “speaking in tongues again.” Guilty as charged.ften catches me speaking through text that I often forget is out loud. ...'She's speaking in tongues again!" Brahm Goldhamer, Ann Cooper-Gay and Myself after Boheme. (pic by Leslie Barcza) Back to Boheme Saturday kicked off with a coaching session with Bill Shookoff, who whipped me into shape an...

Bella come un Tramonto  The Blue Mountains and Homeward Bound Lincolns Rock, Blue Mountains “Bella come un tramonto” —Italian for “beautiful like the sunset.” When I first began working on La Bohème in 2023, this line struck me, and it still does. In Mimi’s final moments, Rodolfo calls her “bella come un’aurora” —beautiful like the dawn. She replies softly, “bella come un tramonto.” For me, that reply carries something profound: Mimi is reminding us that beauty isn’t only in beginnings. Sunsets, like life, are beautiful precisely because they end. And just like that, our Australian adventure had to end too—but not before one last, unforgettable week. Back to Sydney We landed from Darwin at a brutal 6 a.m., but Sydney makes up for rude wakeups with infrastructure Torontonians can only dream about. In under an hour we were back in our favourite suburb, Parramatta. After a nap and some laundry, we had dinner with Dom’s aunty and uncle. I cooked pico de gallo with pork tacos a...

 The White Hot North Darwin, Litchfield, Katherine and Kakadu.  This last week has been an absolute blast. We got to experience life in Darwin, Northern Territory—and all that comes with living in the land of hazard. Between the crocs and sharks in the water, the relentless sun, and the sizzling heat, adventure here always comes with a side of risk. Death honestly feels like just another neighbor in these parts. But the people are kind, and the community is strong. Out of the Northern Territory’s 260,000 people, more than half—148,000—live in Darwin. I snapped a lucky shot at Mindil Beach that I still can’t believe I got. The sunsets here are stunning. Watching the sun melt into the horizon has become a nightly ritual for tourists and locals alike, and when the last sliver of sun disappears, everyone claps. It feels almost ceremonial.  The beach is tempting—soft sand, turquoise-blue water—but dipping more than your toes is a dangerous game. On our first day, we sheepishl...

  Sleep No More… Planes, Delays, and the Latte That Saved My Sanity.                                                                                           Parramatta      It all started out perfectly. Our bags were packed with snacks and lunches, we arrived at the airport on time, checked our luggage, and breezed through security in under ten minutes. To celebrate how smoothly everything was going, we grabbed pints of Guinness and relaxed in anticipation of the adventure ahead. Then—our flight was delayed. The plane was coming from Winnipeg and had left late for reasons unknown. We only had a one-hour, forty-minute window to connect to our Qantas flight in Vancouver. When I asked WestJet staff abo...

Opera, Oceans, and Waiting for Godot Long-haul flights always feel like theatre of the absurd. Endless hours breathing recycled air, waiting for the meal cart, waiting for sleep that never comes, waiting just to wait some more. It’s a little like Beckett’s Waiting for Godot —except in my case, I’m waiting for Sydney. Great Ocean Road 2022.  In just two days, I’ll be on my way to Australia. I’m thrilled to get there… less so for the actual 21-hour flight. Last time I went, the trip was all about networking and laying the groundwork for relationships. This time, there’s real singing to do—not long after stepping off the plane. Which means juggling fatigue, dehydration, and jet lag. Not ideal, but definitely doable. Jet-Lag Eye Bags I’ve tried every trick to fight jet lag, but truthfully, there’s no magic cure for resetting your body clock. I’ve experimented with melatonin, napping across empty rows, and even alcohol once… never again. My most successful “jet lag hack” happened...

Dying of Consumption for Beginners; A Guide to Singer Health and Wellness.     It feels almost cruel when composers choose consumption as the cause of death — especially when you spend the entire rehearsal period killing yourself to stay healthy...      Nothing turns the hysteria up in a rehearsal hall more than someone saying "I'm not feeling well." For singers and directors, I would say it's the equivalent of saying 'bomb' on a plane. Sure, Covid may have elevated the anxiety, but singers’ sickness anxiety has probably been around since the beginning of solfege! I, like almost every singer I know, have experienced great anxiety over my health. I couldn't tell you how many times I became OBSESSED with a tiny tickle, a sniffle, a cough, or just basic fatigue. Many singers know the little voice-checking puppy whimper that all good voice teachers show you to check how well the cords are coming together... and every time I do it, my partner sighs and gives m...