ALMOST LISA -Pt 1, “The Introduction”

Greetings reader.

I never introduced myself here in the Blog-osphere. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be revisiting the page to fully share my Journeys. But- like everything- there is a season for every moment. And I’m compelled to try because I have AN AMAZING non-story and nowhere to place all of the energy welling inside me. Where do I even begin to pen everything this late in the game? How do I explain the “almosts”? My life is full of them. If you love happy endings, this is definitely NOT the blog you're looking for. But it's ...interesting.

Share your journey. You might reach someone. Encourage them. Maybe help them avoid the pain you have experienced. Or better yet, lift them up to a expectation higher than they ever have fathomed they would reach.

At this moment, I’m sitting in a cafe near Atlanta, GA (somewhere I’d never conceived living), attempting to rebuild my life and career (what’s left of them) a third time. This gets harder the older and more stubborn you get, no matter how tenacious. Believe me, my tenacity has been challenged frequently. Par for the course when you pursue a career in the Arts & Entertainment industry. Something which chose me from birth.

Maybe no one ever reads this blog, but at least I’ll leave something behind. A stamp to say I was almost here. I was “Almost Lisa”.

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My name - My REAL name- is Lisa Tarantino. I was born in Cleveland, Ohio into a lower middle class family by my (non-practicing) Jewish mother and (non-practicing) Catholic Father, both of mixed ethnicity. The youngest of three children, I was likely the one-too-many. We were not a wealthy bunch. I can imagine how stressful this was for my parents. I also remember every detail of the household I grew up in where we never discussed anything or ate meals together, where everyone communicated by yelling at one another. But I wasn't built this way. My heart- my Love- was huge and efforts to show my family were constantly deflected and unreciprocated. Disagreement (anger, blame, resentment) became the consistent example of “Love” I witnessed. In order to evade constant discourse, I hid in my room, creating the Beauty I wished to find out in the world to replace the ugly just outside my bedroom door.

Even in my early 20′s I was smart, witty, compassionate, and had that “it factor”. When I walked in a room, you knew I was there. This too often intimidated others or worse, attracted those who sought to control me. It was at this time that a probability analyst considered my attributes, shook his head, and surmised my likeliness of existence to be a zero. It was also at this age when I was first diagnosed with Creative Genius, something which isolated me from other kids and created endless boredom in school and life. And while I was constantly silenced and talked over at Home, I created my own language of writing, painting, sewing, singing... in order to communicate, to be “heard”. This led to music lessons which led to performing in school bands, orchestras, choruses, etc. In my senior year, I was accepted into the prestigious Eastman School of Music in New York. Which we couldn't afford.

“Fathers / Daddies,
Hug your baby girls. As often as you can.
If they don't learn what non-sexual touch is from you,

they will have nothing to compare it by moving forward.
Sex will feel like respect and appreciation when it's not.
  Sincerely,
       A woman who learned this the hard way”

 

You may have noticed how quickly I breezed through those early years. How I've evaded any discussion about boys. Well, for one, I was a tomboy more interested in sports and events with the guys than dating. Also, unfortunately for me, I was a pretty girl. Something I never valued growing up, which created nonstop unwanted and unwarranted affection and attention from the opposite sex. Specifically men (see additional Blog, “Me Too Many”). The amount of sexual harassment and objectification I received as a child and teen was offensive, borderline criminal, scarring. And since I was never taught boundaries and self-worth by my parents, I often found myself in very uncomfortable situations with men/ boys I thought were trustworthy. Maybe my parents believed I’d learn life lessons by osmosis (watching my sisters). I didn't. I learned from bad male behavior. Unfortunately they weren't only outside of my home.

In my late teens and into college, my Dad took on a business partner who all but lived in our home, with free access to come and go as he pleased. He creeped all of the women out. But my Dad wouldn't listen to anything negative about Steve. While Steve never succeeded in molesting me, he absolutely tried. I don’t know if he did with my sisters, we never became close due to our upbringing. At that time, we were all prisoners in our “home”. I could not wait to leave Cleveland and get out of that house. College was a blessing and I fought like hell to get the grants and loans I needed to attend, never looking back. The least privileged in my class to graduate, but I did. Broadway here I come! There was no stopping me. So I thought.

A couple years before I graduated from Eastman, I got involved in a State fundraising event which, by year 6, I was deeply hands-on involved in. At the helm of these annual events was the "Chairman” (even now, I have trouble taking that title seriously) of a corporation which pretended to act as an entertainment manager, of which I was a “client” (I was noticeably talented in unique ways, well-spoken, put-together. It attracted a certain energy and curiosity). The empty promises of career contacts and interviews the Chairman couldn't make (he was a fraud) coupled with my commitment to the charities we helped, the 100′s of corporations donating and corporate heads in attendance at these annual fundraisers, kept me hostage for years, delaying personal career progress. I was not his only victim. He was a dangerous, manipulative pathological liar. Knew just what to say and when to keep just enough hope inside me alive for a “big break” which was always just about to happen for me. Through surmounting event responsibilities, I came to learn the Chairman was  seemingly deriving his entire annual salary from our fundraising efforts. When I confronted him the first few times, he towered his bloated 6′1″ frame over me and barked in my face, threatening me. The Last time, he punched through a wall, inches from my face. The next day I bought a burner cellphone, closed shop, rented a U-Haul, packed my things and left in the middle of the night, to escape. It was years later that he finally stopped trying to threaten and harass me. I’d give anything to get those crucial post-university years back. If I’d had a family unit, it wouldn't have taken so long to get OUT. But eventually, I did succeed.

During these years, an “easy” outlet for me was modeling and print work. I didn't have the cash to spend on a professional shoot to build my book. So I learned  to do my hair, makeup, wardrobe, backdrop, composition and editing... then sent the composites to various companies and agencies in an attempt to secure employment. Astonishingly, several responded. But it was something else which helped me gain back my independence.

While still in Rochester, NY, I had been accepted into a very prestigious vocal studio in NYC to retrain from opera to Broadway. But I couldn't afford to live in the city yet and the "Chairman” conveniently never paid me promised wages to make my efforts any easier. So once a week, I would drive from Rochester NY, through the Catskills, to the Metro North railway, then down the line, into Grand Central, and across town to the upper west side of NYC for a one hour vocal lesson with the two of the loveliest vocal Grandmasters (Richard Dorr and John Mace) in the Biz, then hightail all the way back to Rochester to slave over that State Event the rest of the week. I did this- come rain, blizzard, and falling asleep behind the wheel- many times. For 56 weeks, straight. 

Eventually, I established residency in NYC. Unable to continue my coachings (I was almost out of savings), I subleased a room from a group of young grads, new to the world of finance, and began auditioning and forging my way back into the music scene. I was gaining momentum when a first “real opportunity” to perform was presented to me, on the morning of September 11, 2001. That was the day I “Almost” realized my Broadway Dream. The day I was “Almost Lisa”... 

        (*to be continued)

 

*I retain all rights to my story, likeness, biographical information, quotes, poetry, photography, photos, fashion designs, art work, and all of my own creation represented herewithin*

*PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to these efforts via Venmo @CatarACT_Inc)