opera

i read an article that showed up on my facebook feed. it argued that we should accept being average, mediocre, and not special because so few of us are actually exceptional. it's better to accept than delude. the author argues that doesn't mean to stop trying to be special, just let it go if you find out that you are not special, one evening, sitting at your computer, typing a blog post, about an article you read from your facebook feed.

what if i have deluded myself? what if my life, what i contribute to humanity is average or below average? i find pathways in my mind that lead to a place of self-exceptionalism. what if i have been tricked? what if the evidence is clear?

and then there is Maria Callas and her performance of O Mio Babbino Caro, the aria from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi. I assume you are familiar. Is this not exceptional? The beginning, gently uncovering the melody and ending down, setting up Callas' rise. and the end, with the substance of the strings. it would have been enough to end with her voice, but it is not enough.

am i not exceptional because i listen to this musical rendering, this happening, this vocal emotional subtle touching, this gorgeous life. it blisters and heals. i explode with genius because i listen. again and again. in other words: i love therefore i am exceptional.

alas, no. the crestfallen boy lowers his head.

brokaenhearted and h(e)ated, a paean, a pence, a pauper.
Anthony