When they say 
The immigration system
Is broken
It needs fixing 
I can tell you
First hand
It is a red hot 
Stinking mess 
Of hell

Like having the privilege 
Of being with my love
Took eleven months
A few thousand dollars 
Endless reams of paper 
That repeated the
Same information
Over and over and 
Over again 
Name. Age. D.O.B. His Name. Age. D.O.B. 
Parent’s names. Parent’s birthdays. Parent’s place of birth. 
Copies of birth certificates, police certificates, medical certificates. 
Every address I have lived at since I was sixteen 
(I am currently residing in my 24th abode in 30 years. I hate that question.) 

And once the system
Decided
In 2013
To make everything virtual 
We had to re-submit
Every single form
From scratch. 

At one point,
There were six different numbers 
Assigned to my case 
Now I am a code. 
I am never asked for my name
Only my number 
Because I am not 
Luisa Lyons, Australian/Spanish citizen 
I am a ten digit code with an 
Alphabetized prefix. 

And once I got to the USA
And arrived at the border
The immigration official
Had to go through every piece of paper
In my packet
Stamp it
And determine it was ok for me to go through

Once we were married
More paperwork
The same information
Over and over and 
Over again 
Name. Age. D.O.B. His Name. Age. D.O.B. 
Parent’s names. Parent’s birthdays. Parent’s place of birth. 
Copies of birth certificates, police certificates, medical certificates
Certified marriage certificate
Every address I have lived at since I was sixteen 
Everything must be submitted in hard copy, most forms are filled in by hand

This is to “Adjust Immigrant Status” 
And apply for “Employment Authorization” 
More exorbitant fees
That ensure
You will never be able to speak to a human
Months of waiting 
And zero communication
With the department

The system is broken 
Because between us
My husband and I 
Hold four university degrees
But my husband has to work his butt off 
To keep us afloat 
Because I’m not allowed to work
Either to contribute to the economy 
Or to our household 

I’m grateful I speak English
I’m proactive 
I volunteer at a local bookshop
Am volunteering with a local theatre company 
Writing my one-woman show 
But 
In a society whose primary currency is 
Cash 
I cannot thrive

I hate not being independent
I hate having to ask for financial help 
When we have worked so damn hard. 
I hate living in a system 
That is so crushed by bureaucracy 
And fear 
That it is not able to function 

The system is broken
And it’s breaking me down 
Every time I have to call the 
“Helpline” 
To ask 
Why haven’t we heard anything?

I’m tired of being a number 
And waiting

The end. 

Idina performed
Let It Go
Along with Jimmy Fallon and
The Roots 
A completely different setting 
To the Oscars

Surrounded by musicians
Relaxed
Casual 
Playing classroom instruments
Everyone clearly
Having a total blast 

For whatever reason
The instruments they're playing?
Vocal exhaustion?
(The woman has flown across country
Twice in as many days
Performed at an intensely hyped 
Awards ceremony,
Her collaborators won a bunch of 
Said awards
And she's in tech rehearsals
For a new Broadway show
That's gotta take some sort of toll) 
The arrangement is down
A semitone from the original
And what a difference
A semitone makes! 

Without the microphones
Flying cameras or 
Hollywood elite 
Staring up at her
You can hear the full power of 
Idina's voice
The. Woman. Can. Belt. 
And oh god, it's 
Thrilling

The money note
It's just a D
Idina's got this 
Let the storm rage OOOOOOON.
YES!

Nailed it.

Singing musical theatre 
Is hard work
You are required to 
Sing, act, and sometimes dance
All at the same time! 

Belting 
Sometimes referred to as 
Controlled screaming 
Requires technique. 
Training. Breath. 
Control of vocal chords
The diaphragm.
Being able to access
Every single body muscle 
Whilst singing about
Love, loss, and dreams. 

Movie musicals 
Along with the Patti’s and Kristen’s and Bernadette’s 
Have made it look effortless 
And that’s the performer’s job 
Right? 
To make it look easy. 
But the ease 
Belies the effort it takes
To be. That. Good. 

There is a theory
That belting changed
For women
With Lloyd-Webber’s 
Evita
Before Evita, women were usually belting up to B’s and C’s 
Think Don’t Rain on My Parade or Rose’s Turn or On My Own 
Yes, the women could/can sing higher 
But the money note sat right in a woman’s chest voice 
Noboooody is gonna raaaaaaaain.... 
Etc. 

Then Evita
And Patti. With a belt range from here to eternity 
And the game changed.
Belts were written and sung up to E’s 
Which sit higher in the voice 
And now we have our Defying Gravity’s and Surabaya Santa’s and 
Let It Go’s 
And in the words of Jason Robert Brown, 
Girls
Belting as hiiiiigh as they can. 

Bette, Pink, and Idina 
All performed iconic songs
At the Oscars last night
And in varying degrees, 
Nailed it, hit it out of the ball park,
Or weren’t quite there. 

Pink’s performance
Somewhere Over the Rainbow 
The slightly husky voice
Capable of deliciously pleasing
Vocal gymnastics
The end of the first section
“Somewhere beyond the raaaain” 
Rain, hitting the traditional money note 
Bb
Satisfying to the ear 
(And mighty satisfying to sing)

The chorus, one of the most well-known refrains, 
Somewhere over the rainbow
Needs to be seamless
Smooth
The octave jump between 
Some and where
One of those phrases that sounds easy
But try singing it
Without sliding
Keeping the where light 
Remembering you’re singing about 
Rainbows and dreams and lullabies... 

Pop singing is less precise 
Allows for riffing 
And sliding between notes
And showing off. 
Pop is about sound. 
Musical theatre is about story-telling. 

Pink sang
Someday I’ll wish upon a star 
And wake up (breath) where the clouds are far 
Be (breath) hiiiind me. 
Twitter was ablaze
PHRASING!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
MUSICAL THEATRE 101!
DON’T BREATHE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WORD! 
And I’m certain no self-respecting music director
Conducting one of the most iconic songs of the 
Twentieth century 
Would have gone through rehearsal and said
“Those breaths in the middle are totally cool. 
Good job”. 

The song ended on a satisfying
Ab 
Rich, resonant 
The chords underneath creating movement
Resolve. 
A lovely performance, but too breathy
For musical theatre. Even a pop rendition of musical theatre.  
Perhaps it was nerves
Perhaps it was the 
“Oh-god-I’m-singing-THE-song-at-the-OSCARS-in-front-of-LIZA-FREAKING-MINELLI” adrenalin
Sometimes nerves just grab you by the throat
And no amount of rehearsal
Meditation
“I’ve got this” vibes
Will be controlled
Once you’re on that stage 
There is no going back
The show must go on. 

Then the In Memoriam
Wind Beneath My Wings and 
Bette. Oh Bette. 
How to sing musical theatre 101. 
She walks out, cool as a cucumber
Takes her place
And starts singing. 
Her face radiates calm
She is in control
She is telling a story -
Dear friends who have departed
I am singing this for you.

A quick sneaky little mid-phrase breath - 
You always walked a step (breath) behind - 
But her face remains calm
It’s about the song. Not about her singing the song. 
She connects with the audience 
She connects with the words, the text, 
Thank god for you

Vocally
She sang the song in a lower key
From the original
Riffed down rather than up
Never belted higher than a B
Came straight off the top notes 
But it was all about connection
Control, calm and 
Breath 

Finally, THE. BIG. NUMBER.
The most written about
Played, covered, and parodied 
Record-breaking Disney tune
Since Part of Your World,
Let It Go
Sung by Adela Mazim. Oh Revolta.
The musical theatre community may never forgive you... 
(I’ve done it myself. Fraught with nerves
In a presentation
I kept referring to my co-presenter, and good friend,
As Ethey, instead of Ethel
I didn’t even realize what I’d been saying until afterwards
When everyone asked
WTF?!
It’s mortifying) 

So Idina. 
The beltress who is
Maureen. Elphaba. Queen Elsa
Emerged amidst 
Sparkling Swarovski crystals 
She looked tense
You could almost read her inner monologue
Stay connected. BREATHE. I. Got. This. 
And it made us nervous to watch
Oh god, she’s gonna crack...

But the notes kept coming
Clear and strong
And while it’s a song she has sung
Many times over
Unlike Bette, it’s not standard repertoire, yet.
She’s not had years to perfect the performance of it 
It wasn’t about story-telling
Or being an ice queen liberated from the strictures of a patriarchal society. 
It was about BIG NOTES.
AND BELTING. 

You could see the relief in her eyes
Every time she nailed a big note
It’s an awesome song
It speaks to us
It’s empowering
It’s gutsy, 
It builds and swells, 
And right to the last phrase, 
I held my breath...
She might actually nail it?! 
Let the storm rage....
That last money note, 
A bitch of an Eb
OOOOOON... 
Her voice cracked. 
Dammit! 
Too forcefully hit 
Too much tension. 

I pity the woman
Who’ll play Elsa on Broadway.
Eight times a week of 
Let It Go is going to wreak some sort of damage. 

In one night
Pink, Idina, and Bette, showed us that 
Belting is hard work. 
Even for highly regarded 
Pop stars and Broadway veterans known
For their belting prowess
(Except for Patti. Nothing seems hard for Patti. Watch this and you’ll understand what I mean). 

Somewhere beyond the excitement 
Of the big belt 
Perhaps we need to return 
To story-telling 
Where the music serves the story
Rather than “controlled screams”
Of terrifying heights
Dominating our minds and vocal chords 
And for the belt
Learn to 
Let it go

Read about Idina Menzel's completely different performance the next day! 

"Stitch 'n bitch"
When a group of people,
Usually women,
Get together
Eat and drink 
And knit and sew and 
Work on crafty projects

It was lovely to watch
Women working on 
Patchwork quilts
And curtains
And bags
Made from pretty fabrics

How delightful to participate
For one afternoon 
In this world
Of feeding and project making 

The whir and rattle of 
Sewing machines 
The chatter of women
And new mothers
Their three tiny babies
Hanging out in basinets 
Or on blankets on the floor  
The eldest of the three
Six months old
Reveling in her newly acquired skill of 
Rolling Over
You can almost see joy in her face
When gravity, and a little effort,
Changes her view of the world 

Yet understanding with complete clarity 
This is not my world 
I have no desire to be a mother
To cradle
And rock a little one to sleep 
To discuss feeding habits 
Or diaper changes
Or what foods to eat to produce more breast milk  
Or where to seek useful information 
On all of the above 

Colouring a mandala 
And knowing
All of our stories, choices, and worlds
Are different
And that we all contribute to the vast 
Patchwork of life
With our own forms of creation

The end.