What I’m about to say may be old news to you. For all I know, it may be old news to 99% of the population. I’m going to say it anyway.

You have to treat every possible opportunity like you already have it.

Whew. Did that. Said that. Are you still with me? If you are not one of the exasperated masses who just rolled their eyes, screamed “duh” at the computer screen (can’t hear you, y’all, so joke’s on you), and clicked the little red circle at the top left of their browser–read on.

I’m a singer. Not just that, but a singer who’s trying to make singing a viable career in addition to a spiritually fulfilling necessity of life. There are a lot of things that go into being a singer–most of which I hope to share as this blog grows. Technique. Musicianship. Language. History. Business sense. The It Factor (whatever that is [call me if you know]). Those things are for another day. Another time.

One thing that goes into being a singer is humility. You are constantly humbled in this business. Every single day, I stumble upon something that puts me in my proverbial place. Let me tell you, y’all, humility is great.

It’s great to know that you are part of something bigger than yourself–and not in that wonky “I’m just a cog in a machine” kind of way. I am surrounded by peers who are daily inspiring me with their artistry, their talent, their drive, their imagination. I open a score to study and am in awe of the music’s intricacies. I turn on a recording to listen and am overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the soundscape.

Sometimes, in these moments, you think to yourself–“Gee, that’s perfection.” And then you:

delicately dab your eyes as not to smear your mascara (99.9% of people) blubber like a buffoon and run to the bathroom because there are two black streaks running down your face (me)

It’s enough to make you to feel unworthy. It’s enough to make a person not want to try.

Wait. Hold up a second. Read that again. Not try?

To put it bluntly, there are a lot of us singers. I’ve done some research and can say with scientific certainty that there are exactly 3845959383838 million singers out there. That’s an exact figure. Cite it. (Please don’t.)

The thing that straight up sucks about being surrounded by so many singers (and so many GREAT singers, at that) is that there simply aren’t enough opportunities to go around. There aren’t enough places in young artist programs (YAPs, y’all). There can only be one Adina in the production of L’elisir d’amore (maybe two, if double cast). There’s only one baritone spot at that prestigious graduate school for next year. There is only one first place prize in that competition.

Even worse? There are a hell of a lot of people who deserve that spot. They have all practiced diligently, are excellent to work with, come recommended highly, sing beautifully, and look great on stage. Their resumes are perfect. Their auditions were impeccable! They’d be great and a valuable addition to any company, any program. But still–there’s only one spot, and while it’s all well and good to halfheartedly chuckle and say “there can be only one” and attempt to shrug it off, at the end of the day, there are still those other singers who didn’t get it and deserved it.

I got some really, really good news yesterday (how’s that for a #vagueblog). Some news I didn’t expect. Not because I hadn’t applied. Not because I hadn’t literally PHYSICALLY hit the ‘submit’ button myself. This isn’t news that just fell into my lap. It wasn’t a random coincidence. This is something I asked for.

And yet I anticipated rejection in the name of being humble. I didn’t believe myself worthy. I told myself–and everyone that asked–that it wasn’t going to happen. I spent pretty much the entirety of 2014 (and 2013 and 2012 and 2011 and 2010 and…) in this mindset.

As I said, humility is something that goes into being a singer. Without it, you’re the jerk colleague that everyone hates and side-eyes at rehearsal (usually known as That Guy™).

No one (even That Guy) wants to be That Guy. That Guy is either oblivious that what they say comes across as pompous and generally rude or is enough of a jerk not to care that what they say comes across as, well, pompous and generally rude.

In our eternal quest not to be That Guy, singers (and people in general!) play small in the name of humility. We confuse humility with self-doubt. Self-flagellation. “Oh, no, not me, no way they would want me.” “There are just so many great singers out there, I don’t see how they would want me.” It’s a badge of honor to see who can be the most self-deprecating.

Okay. Cool. So we’re not That Guy. Great! Where’s my certificate? Where’s my prize? Where’s my role? Where’s my young artist program position? … It probably went to someone who believed they deserved the opportunity. And guess what?

That person wasn’t That Guy, either.

What does playing small do for us? Why do we conflate being humble with self-deprecation? Is it possible that people–the veritable Keepers of the Keys– can smell our small-ball Meek Mouse from a mile away? … And is it possible that maybe, just maybe, they don’t want to deal with that kind of energy?

Flip the script. What does believing we deserve something do for us?

Does it make us complacent? Will we not practice as much? Will we shirk responsibility? Will we consider ourselves above doing hard work? Will we walk into our next audition acting as if we own the company? Will we become That Guy?

No. Not at all. Because humility–that is, a gratefulness and respect and joy for the opportunities you’ve been given (sometimes seemingly at random)–can coexist with.. wait for it—gumption.

The gumption to believe in your own worthiness–and to publicly demonstrate that worthiness in your actions, in your demeanor, in your spirit.

Not in a That Guy kind of way. Don’t be That Guy. I don’t want to be That Guy. But I want to believe in myself as much as I know my mentors, my friends, and my family, believe in me.

We still may not get the opportunity we want. That’s just how things work, singing or otherwise. We can do everything right and still fall short of what we want. [/turns on “Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da”].

But you know what? I think I am going to like not getting something a whole lot more when I believe that I deserved it and it just didn’t work out… rather than saying “Oh, well, yeah, of course I didn’t get it, I’m not good enough.”

So. I learned a lesson in 2014 the hard way. Thank God it’s 2015, right? Join me and let’s have the gumption to live like we are worthy of what’s given to us.