Zig Zag #15

When you’ve moved around as much as I have, you start to collect roommates. It’s not like I have a pile of them stashed somewhere. Geez, get your mind out of the gutter. But living a nomadic, writerly, gigging life doesn’t always allow for living in luxury by yourself. So roommates are essential at times.

Keep in mind that not only have I moved from state to state, but within each local I’ve lived, I bounced around.

Since college, I’ve had, in total, around 40 roommates. Now, this includes a family I lived with briefly and other living situations where I’ve lived in one place with more than one roommate.

I’ve learned many things by living with so many people. Roommates are not one size fits all. When you cohabitate with others, you learn so much about the complexity and variety of the human experience. I’ve had overly tidy roommates, I’ve had roommates criticize my dishwasher loading skills, I’ve had dirty roommates, loud roommates, night owl roommates, introverted roommates, up-for-anything roommates. I’ve had roommates who paint. I’ve had roommates who loved to bake. I've had roommates who were good with computers and technology. I’ve had roommates who were photographers. I’ve had roommates who were teachers. I’ve had roommates who became friends, and roommates I’m glad I will never see again.

But I learned the greatest lessons when I lived with opera singers. One male opera singer and one female opera singer. Prior to this living experience, I imagined all opera singers to be busty old ladies with their hair tied up into the tightest of buns. Maybe the tight bun was the reason for their vast vocal range? Wow, how I was mistaken. Thanks, media, for once again creating and feeding into stereotypes. Stereotypes are so dangerous. Luckily, they can be unlearned.

Sometimes my opera singer roommates would practice in the house. They always apologized when this happened. No apology was necessary. Some people might be irritated by this, but it wasn’t like these people were amateur church choir singers. These were classically trained, professional opera singers. So when they practiced, I felt like I was privy to a show. For. Free.

Sometimes they would sing in languages I didn’t even know existed. Sometimes they would sing opera while cooking. It was like the Wizard of Oz pulling back the curtain. They showed me the technical parts. The breathing, the counting, the drama. Oh, there was so much drama. Not only within the opera itself but also among their opera colleagues. They were game for it all. They loved it.

What did witnessing all of this theater do for me? It destroyed all of the stereotypes or preconceived notions I had about the opera and its players. It opened my eyes to a beautiful artform I only saw exaggerated and mocked by others. I had the opportunity to learn about something I know nothing about from people who have completely different world views and life experiences than me. It reconfirmed that the older I get the more I realize I don’t know a lot about a whole lot. And that’s okay. Breath. Just stay open and curious.

These were roommates that didn’t become friends. No bad blood. It was just that we lived with each other for such a short amount of time. And that’s okay too. They exposed me to opera. They shifted my perspective. They fed me incredible food. They shared their talent and skill. I probably will never have another opportunity to live with professional opera singers, so I am grateful that they passed through my life. Everyone has a story, and I’m so glad I heard theirs.

“When you are up close to an opera singer, hearing this incredible volume of noise coming from a human being - it’s beyond belief.” - Eve Best

Have a zig zag kinda week. Until we meet again.