This Small Room

 

When I was growing up, I lived in a small 3 bedroom ranch house. We had one bathroom, two good sized bedrooms (although neither was particularly large) and a third bedroom which we called the small room.

Until I went to college, I had one of the bigger bedrooms and my sister (who was 8 years younger) had the small room. I commuted to college the first year and then moved to the dorms for my second and third year, coming home most weekends to work, since school was only five miles down the road.

One day during summer break, I came home from going to the Wisconsin State Fair with my friends to find that my sister had moved into my room and that all my things had been put into the small room. I wasn’t informed this would be happening, even though I still had three more weeks before school started, and as much as I protested, I was relegated to the small room for the remainder of the time I would be a resident of that house. Even when I moved back home for my senior year of college. With my stuff crammed into a small dresser that wasn’t mine, my clothes crammed into a too-small closet, and my body up against a wall in a too-small bed.

And for much of my life, I felt contained by my surroundings. I felt that I was too much for my space, for those I grew up with, and even for my family.

Once, long after I’d moved out, I had learned a new aria and was eager to sing it for my mother. After I finished it, she said, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s too loud for this small room.

She didn’t like opera. But I don’t think any room would have been big enough for her to enjoy my singing.

So many of us feel or have felt constrained by rooms that have been too small, whether it’s the actual physical space or the room in our heads, whether it’s through our own perception or that of another person. I haven’t felt that way for a long time now, thank goodness. And if you feel that way ….

Blow off the doors. Knock down the walls.

Spring Forward!

UGH, it’s Daylight Savings Time. I hate the transitions both in and out of DST. I feel like I gain nothing in the fall because I wake up too early, and I definitely feel the loss of the hour in the spring. (Spring? It’s spring?)

But I do like the idea of “spring forward.” Of finding some new things to do and thinking outside the box.

For example, at my church job today, I decided that I was going to put the emphasis on all the prepositions in the hymns and responses. At first, it was a source of amusement (which pretty much sums up how I approach almost anything new), and then I realized it was a way to be really aware of the words I was saying. Too often, responses are on autopilot, and so are hymns (if you’re just singing the melody to something you’ve known for years). But if you put the emphasis on a different word, you have to think about all the words before and after it.

“And also with you.”
“Our Father, who art in Heaven.”
“Make you to shine like the sun.”

I did something like that recently in a cabaret performance of the song, “As if we never said goodbye” from Sunset Boulevard. I have always sung the lyric, “Has there ever been a moment?” with the emphasis on “ever.” But in my last performance, it just felt right to put it on “been.”

Now, I realize that emphasis is kind of Chandler Bing-esque, but it felt right to me in that moment. It seemed like it made all the other words in the line even more important.

There’s an acting game to take a phrase and change the emphasis to get a different point across:

I didn’t say she stole my money.”
“I didn’t say she stole my money.”
“I didn’t say she stole my money.”
“I didn’t say she stole my money.”
“I didn’t say she stole my money.”
“I didn’t say she stole my money.”
“I didn’t say she stole my money.”

How would you interpret each of this lines with the different emphasis? Which one might be defensive? Sad? Evasive?

How could you apply this to a song you’re working on? Or a song you’ve known for years? How would it change the interpretation? What works? What doesn’t?

Try this and see what happens. And remember….