Learning Spanish

My full name is very hispanic. But I am of a growing hispanic minority born in the USA that didn't grow up speaking Spanish. My bilingual parents spoke it a little between themselves. And my mother did try to teach us a little bit. But, let's face it - they should have spoken it all the time to us at home because all of us kids greatly suffered in our personal and professional lives' at our not being bilingual. And, as children, it's the easiest way to learn languages - for you soak it up like a sponge. As an adult, one becomes self-concsious at making mistakes or having a bad accent. Point blank - I have suffered learning this language but have a lot of pride that I did so on my own. People just assume all latinos speak spanish. I am 3rd generation born American - I can assure not all of us are bilingual.

Here's a little walk down Memory Lane:

It was my first year of college, at the age of 18, that I really started yearning to learn more about my Mexican heritage and its romantic language. I became involved in the hispanic student organization MECHA to meet the few latinos who attended UC Irvine in the early 90s and sometimes wrote articles for La Voz Mestiza - the hispanic student school paper. But, mostly, I made a herculean effort to learn Spanish on my own. Interestingly, I mostly learned it through my huge love: Music.

I started listening to spanish radio all the time. I bought spanish-music tape cassettes (this is pre cds and mp3s). I would listen for hours to music and try to write down the lyrics in a notebook that I still have at my parents' home. I became a huge, screaming fan of handsome crooner Luis Miguel who was my age and a HUGE singing star. He was my favorite. I also started watching telenovelas (soap operas) during my vacations back at home in San Diego. The first one I watched was called, "La Picara Sonadora" - I even got my sister and mom to watch it with me. When I say it was the 'first one' I watched I refer to the fact that spanish-language soaps actually end after a few months. And they almost always end with a happy ending of the poor girl getting her prince *I mean rich, handsome man.

You can imagine, thus, that my spanish, from listening to music and watching over-dramatic novelas - was full of vocabulary about love, nature, revenge, romance and pain. HAHAHAH. Very dramatic. But not very useful, every-day language, one can say.

I needed to do more, then. So I decided that I could only have crushes on Latino boys. That way I could practice my spanish. Now, I was the biggest virgin in high school and college - and PROUD of it. But I had crushes, sure! And Latin men are muy romantico..... Spring Break of my freshman year - I was en route to having my first heart ache by a Latin man. I went with Diana, my roommate in college (and mentioned in the blog a few times) to Tijuana, Mexico for the first time to go dancing. We went with my younger cousin, Maddy, who was already highly-seasoned at going even though she was only in high school. She was also in a latin identity faze as well. She took us to where the real Mexicans were - not the bars full of drunk underage American kids and sailors. She took us to the OTHER end of Calle Revolucion ("Revolution Street") the main drag of bars and discos in TJ where there was a huge club called, "Las Pulgas" - The Fleas. I was in heaven with the spanish pop and roc-en-espanol on 1 floor and more traditional mexican music and dance on another.

I still remember it like it was yesterday. I set my eyes on a tall, Mexican boy across the room - I was a virgin, but I knew how to flirt! The girls nodded in approval. He was wearing jeans, boots, a shiny belt buckle, and a button down shirt and drinking a beer. His hair was straight, thick and longer on top - pushed back with a little gel.

I said to the girls we needed to walk past him and his boys so I could make eye contact (who knew this goody-goody was such a natural??!!) Well, we paraded past them and when I walked past, I gave him a sideways look and smile over my shoulder and he literally ran after me to catch up with me.I always thought he looked a bit like a Mexican Elvis. For he had full-lips and a handsome but baby-face that Elvis had. Even the hair reminded me of his circa 50s' look.

He asked me in spanish, "Como te llamas?" What is your name? And little did I know my life was to change forever. He was my first latin man. And my first heart break. Efren would figure in my life for the next several years - setting my even-nowadays standard of really trying with someone until they have absolutely killed me and there is truly nothing left of Elsa to give and cling onto.

By now, Diana is rolling her eyes and fanning herself over the memories and nightmare that would be my knowing him those many years. God bless her - she accompanied me many a night to TJ to meet him down there or to go to his baseball games.
And she stood by my side through the pain as well.

Was I in love with him? No. I knew we were young and inexperienced (he was my age). But I wanted to eventually be in love with him. I was crazy about him. He sang and danced mexican rancheros with me, literally sweeping me off my feet. "Six foot two, and all for you," he used to say, grinning that boyish grin of his. We met at 18 and he left my life at 28. We will eternally be remembered as young and stupid.

Too bad, with him, I set the precedent at being involved with men who can't commit and take but don't give much back. It's amazing when I look back now at 35 that I have always given much more in my relationships and continue to still do it. I know it's a latin trait in women - we are extremely giving. But, I've gone to hell paying for it and continue to suffer even now for possessing that character. A character that is so generous it is actually a negative fault when it comes to me and men.

I will say one thing though. Dating someone who speaks spanish was a great way to really accelerate my learning! Do you like elsamart's novela? Stay tuned for more. I figure something has to come out of all the memories in my head...

Back to my Musical Roots

For those of my appreciated readers who do not know me in person, I am a singer and have studied and performed professionally upside of about 15 years. I love many, many styles and genres of music but studied classical for several years - my mother setting the precedent. A naturally gifted, but untrained soprano herself, my mom blessed my 5 siblings and I with a gift for musical talent - all the girls learned piano, my closest sister in age, Sara, and I also took and excelled at violin before (regrettably) quitting to focus on our other talents. My brothers Ben and Gabriel both learned clarinet, with Gabe going on to study jazz and saxophone as an adult. The girls also all excelled at singing in school choirs. I was the only one who actually decided to major in music in college and try to make a living at it. Am I the fool or the most blessed of them all? It all depends on how you look at it.

Musicians, dancers, actors, artists - whatever genre - is an extremely difficult way to live. We truly are a breed apart from the norm. You pretty much know you will struggle to make ends meet your entire life and need some sort of survival side job - shoot I have 2 right now and have had 3 different ones in the past. But something inside - when you are truly studied and talented - makes you go on in spite of the compromises, stress and toll it takes on your families and relationships. Also, no matter how good a communicator I may be - - no one in my life has been able to comprehend my pain and yearning for my creative expression unless they are some sort of creative-arts person as well.

For there is something in me that aches and has always ached about music. I wasn't blessed with composing my own music, which is probably why I am so in awe of good composers and song-writers. I am extremely appreciative of harmonies and the feelings evoked by a single chord (especially dissonant ones). My mom, thankfully, was a wonderful role model and had the insight to expose us to classical music and Broadway musicals since I can remember. I grew up for years seeing my mom sing in the San Diego Master Chorale - with her Tuesday night rehearsals - - the ONLY hobby and time she'd take off being a very busy mother to 6 kids - might I add. Sunday mornings, the only day my father didn't work (owning his own CPA firm and especially during tax seasons, we didn't always see him much) was family and Church day no matter what - and it always started out with my mom waking up and automatically putting on the classical music radio station for us to wake up to and spend family time with. It makes its mark on you, folks: if you give it a chance.

Yes, I love classical music. And I was good at singing it too. Good enough to get a performance scholarship to several colleges - ultimately choosing UC Irvine and winning some singing contests. But upon graduating, I knew I wouldn't be good enough to truly be an opera diva and travel the world singing in opera houses - perhaps how my dear mother envisioned.

After finishing school my path crossed with many artists, actors, writers, directors, singers - and I ended up decided to also pursue acting and eventually also modeling in Los Angeles - not a bad choice, if also as difficult a path to choose as the music.

The truth is: the more talents you have - the more marketable you are to your agents. I still loved singing - I still also performed professionally doing musical theater. I was certainly well-rounded enough to also pursue straight (non musical) theater, comedy, drama, commercials and modeling as well as anything singing. But I essentially have not performed or studied my classical music since 1994.

And, oh - - how I have truly, utterly missed it...

It took me to be 35 years of age to realize several things in my very different, colorful and trying life. Some professionally, some of it personally, physically and mentally. But one of the biggest goals for this year for me was to let myself be happy again and fulfilled within the realm of getting back to my classical roots. That meant leaving a much-needed, great paying nighttime job, and also knowing I will be compromising other possible acting and modeling jobs with the year-long time commitment that I must give. Perhaps the hardest compromise is that I know my love for travel and even short trips might not prove to be as easy to get away should I delve back into professional music. That said - I am very thankful and blessed to announce that I auditioned and got accepted this morning to the talented (and very same) professional choir that my mother once sang in years ago - The San Diego Master Chorale. No doubt about it - although I looked decent on paper as far as my training and skills, the soprano voice part that I posses comes a dime a dozen and they were only looking for 2 new ones this year. I can't stress enough that I am for lack of a better word: rusty - when it comes to real singing. Classical music is a talent. It's difficult to be good. And one must be trained. At the audition not only did I sing, but we had a written test to see how much we were studied in music as well as having an oral singing, sight-reading and memorization test. I wasn't 100% pleased with my performance, stating dramatically at the end while thanking my critics that, "My old college professors would be disgusted with me for being so rusty." To which the director commented, "These were hard tests. We didn't expect anyone to ace them perfectly. The truth is you have a really, really good musical ear, Elsa."

I so rarely hear praise in my life - and I certainly knew I went in feeling somewhat self-conscious that I have not been in good voice for many years like I used to be. I was very grateful to hear his words, knowing he wouldn't just utter them. And the fact is: I do. I know I have a very good musical ear and talent and overall performing and presence package. But in a 12 year career of mostly rejections in the Arts - it was nice to know that a professional in the field could recognize that in me too. :)

Where in the World is Scott Duncan??

I have a dilemma. This has really, truly been bothering me for quite some time. Years really. It is possibly thee #1 reason why I decided to go on Myspace.com last spring.

See: Back when I was an Opera Major (oh how sweet: some of you didn't know that about me??? well, more on that some other time)... Anyway, back when I was fine-tuning my singing skills in college, one of my best friends there was a chap named Scott. Scott was a tenor singer. He was also one year ahead of me. And he was my buddy. See, back then I was much more into my 'mexican-ness'. There weren't many latinos first of all at my school to begin with (no, the very nice grounds-maintenance people don't count). And then also you have to realize that in the classical music department - it should go without saying that all the Fine Arts majors are smaller schools and you really get to know everyone and your faculty well. In any case: I was the only hispanic in the Voice School. All ...4...years. Hmmmm. Pretty sad when hispanics tend to be naturally gifted at music and love singing. Shoot: haven't my people heard of that famous spanish tenor: Placido Domingo??!

I'm getting off subject here. Back to Scotty. My point above was that I really stood out in my Music school. I was a mini-skirt wearing, skinny, Tijuana-red lipstick- wearing, spicey Hispanic OPERA singer for Pete's sake! I did not fit the mold of the typical classical voice student. That said: Elsa can sing. Elsa had been singing and playing piano all her life. Elsa already had years of experience in competitions and performing. Elsa won a scholarship. But, alas: Elsa stood out.

In comes Scott. Scott was a gentle-voiced, good-humoured, good-looking blond, blued-eyed young man from LA County. A little older than me. Totally different than the usual ethnic people I would hang out with. But he was so supportive. And accepting. He also thought I was beautiful on the inside and believed in my talent. And when other girls got catty about the way I dressed or my ethnicity, he stood up for me.

And when he wrote some music with his (if I remember correctly, brother-in-law) and needed a girl to record with him: he chose ME to come out and meet his family and do so (man, I wish I could find that tape somewhere).

Scotty was not only funny but a leader too. Once while carpooling with him and 2 other tenors to a competition and while stuck in Los Angeles gridlock he had to really go to the loo. I was in the passenger seat and pointed out that we were not going ANYWHERE, ANYTIME soon. After about 5 minutes he shouted gallantly, "Oh what the hell!" and jumped OUT of the car (did I mention he was the driver??). No, we were not moving, thankfully, but I mean: he JUMPED out of the car, zigzagging thru cars 2 lanes over to the left of the fast lane where some bushes were growing intertwined into the median. My dropped jaw turned from amazement to laughter as he pulled IT out and started whizzing. Right.. there. In front of EVERYONE stopped in traffic. Cars started honking and he waved the thumbs-up victory sign. Even more amazing was when the 2 other guys in the back seat said, "Ahhh shoot!!" and then proceeded to follow him and also take a leak.

Imagine me: left alone in the car, with the 3 other doors flung open, everyone honking and laughing.... it might sound innocent by today's crude standards of humour: but I have got to tell you the sight of the 3 of them there peeing in unison in the middle of the LA freeway was one of the funniest things I've ever seen!!

Alas, halfway through my junior year I decided to go to Mexico to study for 6 months. I wouldn't be returning until the Fall for my Senior year. I was disappointed that I would miss Scott's senior recital and graduation in June. But his plan was to return in the Fall for his Master's. So, although I was sad to depart, we had planned on seeing each other in the Fall.

So here is my dilemma. I lost contact with my dear, kind friend. Now one has to be over 30 I suppose to understand this is before email, Myspace, Classmates.com and cellphones. Keeping in touch wasn't quite as convenient as it now, my pretties. When I returned in the Fall I looked everywhere for Scott in the Music Department before someone informed me that he did not, indeed, get accepted into the Master's program.

And that was the last I ever heard.

I would SO love to reconnect with him. He still is one of the most genuine friends I've ever had and he never once hurt me or had a fight. I have done searches on his name but unfortunately I can't remember his exact age or how to spell his last name. This is what I have so far.

Scott Duncan or Dunkin??
Probably born 1971 or 70?
Pretty sure he was born and raised in LA (or Orange) County.
Was a Voice Major at UC Irvine (University of CA, at Irvine) graduating 1993.
He is probably about 5'10, slim. Not outrageously gorgeous but certainly above-average handsome.

Where in the World are you, Scotty Duncan????? :(