Being and Doing

Living "in the moment" and being present are very, very important things to me. I used to be a whole lot better at pretending and acting. Now, it seems all I can be is my authentic self. It is a relief and a curse.

It is a relief because I feel I can stand by and take credit for everything I say and do, without apologies. I need to live my truth - and it is feels good. It is a curse because I have lost money and jobs and maybe even friends because of it. One day, perhaps I'll get better at living my truth and using tact!

I remember back in the early '90's, in my first meeting with a new therapist. He spoke to me about the differences between "being" and "doing". I could have saved a lot of money if I had stopped seeing him right after that session. That one sentence spoke volumes to me. When you are living in the moment and are not afraid of what others will think of your reactions you are responding as your authentic self. You are BEING. When you react how you think you are expected to react, when you toe the line and do what you think society expects of you, despite your own feelings, then, you are DOING. Let me tell you, after you get the hang of it, BEING is a hell of a lot less stressful than DOING.

I am sure a lot of people in the entertainment industry are experts at DOING and total novices at BEING.

This past week, I attended an event called "Paint Dancing". A wonderful spirit named Matt has opened up his art studio for an event that combines painting and dancing, to celebrate and cultivate the collective Muse. It goes like this: several people stand around a table filled with paper, paints and brushes. Exuberant and inspiring music is played on the stereo. Dancing to the beat, brushes in hand, art happens! It was a total blast. In a humanitarian twist, Matt charges $15 per paint dancing session and donates it to a food bank. A wonderful idea!

I attended a free session of paint dancing ('cuz I'm broke) because it was going to be featured on a TV station's morning news program. Matt needed bodies to fill the studio for the cameras, so he could promote this wonderful happening. 2 dozen dancer/artists filled the space and dance/disco/pop music filled the air. I was immediately transported into a blissful state. I was dancing up a storm and squirting paint everywhere. I was instantly in LOVE! Then the music stopped. And started again. And stopped again, etc. The reporter for KING 5 morning news showed up, with her cameraman to do a live report. Big lights were set up. The "BEING" part of the event had ceased and the "DOING" part had begun.

The music was switched from "Disco Inferno" to Miami Sound Machine's "Conga", because the reporter thought the beat was faster (although, I think if anybody checked, I bet they were very similar)we were not allowed to make any noise while we were dancing, because it would drown out the Reporter's story - believe me, that was HARD! Then, she recorded several "takes" to be played later in the broadcast. The music had to be stopped and started several times and we paint dancers were instructed to move this way or that and NOT step on the cords. Practical advice for television but, again, very hard when you're caught up in the music and the moment and having a blast. And, let me tell you, stopping and starting over and over felt like COITUS INTERRUPTUS! I was getting into the beat - dancing my fool head off and thinking about colors and shapes and then BAM! SCREEEEEECHING HALT! It was so frustrating. I understood why it was happening - I'm not that naive - but still, I was kind of ticked off!

I should be used to this, having worked in "the biz", for years and years. Yet, I find it shocking each time. I'll never get used to having to give up the actual world, for the reflected one. It is important to keep in mind that EVERYTHING we see on TV is a creation - a production. It is not reality. "Reality TV" is most definitely NOT reality. So much footage is shot and then the editors splice it all together to tell a story - a story that they are creating and not the one that may have actually happened.

I still love Project Runway, though. I try to enjoy the creative processes and not get caught up in the drama, etc. I don't know if I'm all that pure, though. Sometimes a little drama is fun.

But I digress.

I can't help but wonder what life was like, when people were living for the moment and not for the reflection and recording of that moment? It seems to only have gotten worse, with the massive rise in popularity of camera cell phones like the iPhone and Blackberry. Everybody is thinking of how they'll post what they're doing on Facebook, instead of actually living in the moment. Cyndi Lauper was recently giving a concert in Seattle. I understand that she got upset with a fan who was recording her on his cell phone for posterity. Cyndi cried out "BE HERE NOW!" to the fan, who apparently didn't even know she was talking to him - he was too busy looking at her reflected image in his phone.

I think we'd all be a whole lot happier if we could "BE HERE NOW" and not worry about how we'll look to somebody else in a little while from now.

And now, I'm going to post a link to this blog on Facebook. Maybe that is hypocritical.

French Translation

French to English translation(via Google Translate) of "Everything Depends on You" by Niels Lan Doky and Gino Vannelli. Hmmmmmmmmmm


Everything depends on you
My beauty's most intimate
Everything is up to us
Moods illégtimes
My desires, my dreams
My boredom and all my fevers
on my life, you
Actually
The sunshine and rain ...

Everything depends on you
My fears, my secret desires
My love I confess
That sometimes I hate you
To be linked

The least thing I do
We can laugh at ourselves
I do not care
I'm crazy about you ...

Everything depends on you
All my breaths
If everything keeps me in we
Until Dand inspiration
It is a question of balance
Without you I am not free
And even if it is not very modern
(Same theme)
That's how I love you

My desires, my dreams
My boredom and all my fevers
On my life, you
Actually
The sunshine and rain ...

Everything depends on you
True
And even if
Is not very
(Not) modern
As subject
Is how
I love you ...

How Many Times?

I hope this doesn't come off as too macabre.

But, I'm wondering how many times I had to die, before everything could be set in place, "just so", for me to live? Maybe I'm taking myself a bit too seriously but it occurred to me today just how lucky I am, to be alive right now and not knocking on death's door.

As I was walking to and around Greenlake today I reflected on a conversation I had with my former "chatty neighbor", Loren, who reminded me that my return to health has been rather miraculous. After all, it was only August 1st, less than 2 months ago, that I was so weak and panicked that I took the drastic move to drive to the desert to clear the toxins out of my body and save my own life. I could hardly walk 20 feet, let alone up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. I had giant rings under my eyes. I was coughing up phlegm at an alarming rate and each cough left me weaker and weaker.

Was someone watching over me and correcting events, in the cosmic timeline, so I could live? I mean, had I not lost both jobs and had Gino not entered my life, I would have been a goner. I worked every single day in my apartment. My toxic mold-infested apartment.

The letter I wrote to Coast to Coast, as I explained my situation and frustration to my co-workers just poured out of me like automatic writing. It felt like it had been dictated. Likewise, the letter I first wrote to Gino, after I rediscovered his music felt channeled - I'll never forget the urgent voice inside of my head, telling me to let him know I got his song played on 525 radio stations. The Coast letter got me fired and the Gino letter lead to communication with him and several amazing experiences that gave me a strong desire to live. The raw emotion I felt that day, at Metro Traffic, when I bawled my eyes out and frightened my co-worker just happened. I wasn't planning on it. Just BAM! But, had I not been fired from Metro, I would still have stuck around my old place. I would have had enough money to pay my rent and continue living in the basement of the damned.

And, yes, my unemployment is currently "on hold", but thank God that it was not cut off while I was driving 4000 miles in the desert trying to heal myself. That deprivation did not happen until I was staying with my sister and had a roof over my head.

Maybe bit-by-bit, the pieces had to connect together, just so, in order to keep me alive. If just one of those elements had been out of place, I would not be here today.

As someone who has cheated death twice, now in 2 and a half years, it gives me great pause. I think about the strong voice inside that told me to go see a doctor, instead of visiting my sister Linda in Florida that January morning of 2008. That lead to my open heart surgery and aortic valve replacement.

It is obvious to me my work on Planet Earth is not yet complete. Daily anxieties and insecurities aside, I have returned to a relatively normal existence.

From now on, I am not going to dwell on losing my jobs, home and possessions. I am going to focus on being alive.

Remind me of that tomorrow when I start wondering what the hell happened to me. OK?

I AM a Singer - Just not a Pop Singer

Another Rockaroke revelation last night.

I think I got the need to sing old cover tunes out of my system last night. I really haven't kept up with pop music. Don't listen to the radio anymore, as it has become UNLISTENABLE due to all of the commercials and promos etc.

So, when I sing on Sunday nights, I do songs that I either sang or liked, from the '70's and '80's. Last night, I felt all of the stage fright and anxiousness disappear. A good thing, for sure. I know I had to work through all of that fear, after being away from performing for so long. I decided to sing The Pet Shop Boys' "West End Girls" and it was kind of fun. BUT then I started getting bored - on stage. Doing the song "just like the record" held no interest for me. I remember feeling this way in 1987, during the end of my stint in the Harrisburg, PA Top-40 cover band, Webz.

While there is joy in live performance and in the interaction with musicians - and it IS communication, it is simply not enough for me. I need the communication of constant innovation and the thrill of improvisation in order to fully connect with music. Minds and souls merging and mingling in new and exciting ways keeps the music alive for me. Maybe this is why I have a problem with Western Classical music. Perhaps this is why I have no interest in singing with a choir. I can appreciate it. I can find bliss while listening to it. But I am bored with performing it. Perfecting somebody else's music is not interesting to me.

Jazz is different. There is a structure, a framework from which improvisation takes place. Turns out Indian Classical music works in the same way. There is a basic melodic structure, and then, the individuality of the performers takes over.

To me, performing "in the moment" means being ALIVE. Free improvisational music, while a challenge to hear, is the MOST fun to perform. Psychic musical communication is hard at work - there is a lot of listening and interaction. Like sex, with music. And sometimes a whole lot more satisfying than physical communication.

So, it is OK that I don't wail with the best of them at Rockaroke. I am an improvisational singer and not a pop singer.

Am I Still a Singer?

After getting off the phone with musician friend, Joe, today, I began questioning myself.

Am I still a singer? I keep coughing every time I try to sing. It appears that my lungs have not recovered completely from the mold. I get discouraged when I sing and am very, very judgmental about what comes out of my mouth. Sometimes I think I am the least disciplined person on Earth.

I watched most of the finale of "America's Got Talent" tonight and realized how much work went into every performance on that show. You have to really believe in yourself to work that hard. I've recently had quite the crisis of confidence and don't think I have it in me to "practice, practice, practice".

I want to recapture the joy I had back in April, when I began to open up again. I need some inspiration. Currently, the old inspiration brings me pain. My trusting heart was opened so wide that recovery is difficult.

I hope I find what I am looking for and I hope my voice will return soon.

Restless Readers! Here's the latest.

My goodness.

It has only been 4 days since my last post and I'm already being nagged to post something new! I had no idea people actually cared what I wrote about.

OK

Today's experience:

I'm trying to get my unemployment reinstated. I was told to write a statement, describing my "illness and trip to New Mexico" and give all pertinent dates, etc. I hope I did it right. I then went to the "Work Source" office so they could fax it for free to the unemployment office. The Work Source office was packed. There were 8 people in line ahead of me and all of the computers were filled, as well as all of the tables and most of the chairs. There was a set of identical twins waiting to attend a class on job search options.

Then, since I got my social security card, I went back to the biotech place to try and donate my plasma for $30. After waiting for 2 hours, I was told that a person with a heart-valve transplant can not donate plasma. But I did get to see what it was like to be in that room. For such a white city, Seattle has a disproportionately large black population waiting to donate plasma. When I got there, I was the only white face in the room and one of only 2 women. By the time I left, the demographics had changed. After 3:30, more white people and several women arrived. Many people knew each other. I guess they've been donating their bodily fluids for some time now.

You know, I can't believe a cow-valve would prohibit me from selling my plasma. I'm not infected. I just had a heart check-up. I am fine. MOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOO MOOOOOO (OK, well there is that little affectation I have...)

Then Joe sent me some money so I can buy some gas. This means I can go to Yom Kippor dinner at Julie's on Saturday. And drive to a temp job or interview - and maybe, go back and do Rockarokie on Sunday. Joe, your kindness bought me a life, for the rest of the week. I thank you.

Childhood Pen-Pal

Recently, I came across some very old letters.

When I was in Junior High, my school sponsored a pen-pal program. We put our names on a list and were assigned students from around the world (mostly in Europe, I think) with similar interests, to be our pen-pals.

I was assigned a girl named Kim Wallen, (I don't have the letters with me - I think Kim was her first name - Wallen was definitely her last name). She was from The Netherlands. We both loved popular music.

I was 13 or 14 years old and my musical tastes were still developing. I remember I wrote to her of my love for Barry Manilow's music. She had never heard of him but promised to give him a listen. In a later letter, Kim told me she had found out who Barry was. She also told me that she was a big Pink Floyd fan. This disturbed me, at the time, because the kids in school who liked Pink Floyd did NOT like me. I began to wonder if Kim was a "hood" and did drugs. But, I continued writing. She told me a big hit in her country at the time, was Fats Domino's "Blueberry Hill". This confused me because it was an old song. She explained later that it was a re-release in her country.

After a few more correspondences like this, I got another letter from "Kim". It was written in completely different handwriting - the letters were written in print instead of cursive handwriting. In this letter, she condemned funk and soul music, saying she had no interest in it and hated the way it sounded. This was the last letter I got from her, as I stopped writing. I figured if she did not like soul music, then we had absolutely nothing in common. I was not interested in knowing anything more about Kim. The fun had ended for me.

Recently, I found out that the name given to the Red-Light district in Amsterdam is de Wallen. I found this coincidence to be intriguing. It also makes me wonder if my childhood pen-pal was actually who she said she was.

Suck-a-rokie

Some nights you got it and some nights you don't I did NOT have "it" tonight.

But I took some chances, with the live band that lets YOU be the lead singer, "Rockarokie". I was very happy the club was almost empty at the casino. But, maybe the rows and rows of unoccupied seats were part of the reason for my lackluster performance. There was no crowd to "feed off of". I can feel the energy of the audience and am always inspired by it.

Tried out 3 new songs: Alannah Myles' "Black Velvet", Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" and Madonna's "Borderline". Also did a favorite, "Brass in Pocket", by the Pretenders. I was happy with my performance on that one. It is in my key. The other 3 songs are NOT! That is the one big problem with Rockarokie. You MUST do the tune in the key of the recording. In Karaoke, there is a way to manipulate the key, I think. Well, sometimes.

There is this guy, named Dave, who gets up and sings the most AMAZING versions of hard rock and metal tunes. I once heard him do Janis Joplin's Piece of My Heart and was blown away. Tonight, just for fun, he did a Marvin Gaye tune and again - he rocked the house. But mostly, Dave is a world-class rock screamer. He also looks like he's done a good bit of living - in his 50's but still a "looker" - sweet blue eyes compliment his gray hair and teenie weenie "soul patch" under his bottom lip.

I went up to Dave, after his first song tonight and asked if he'd mind chatting for a few minutes. I complimented him and asked if he'd tell me his "story". I knew he had to have been a professional vocalist. Turns out his story is like so many others I've heard lately. He was in a band in Los Angeles in the 1980's. They gigged around town a lot. They opened shows for lots of big name acts at the time - Quiet Riot, etc. The really hard rock stuff. But, all the bands who were making it at the time had an "image" - they dressed in a lot of leather and spandex. Dave's band was not into that - they were a "pre-grunge" jeans-and-t-shirt-wearing group. They never got a recording contract and Dave had a wife to support. So, he left LA and moved to Seattle in 1986. A year later, his old band shed the denim for spandex and got signed to a major label. Not sure what their name is. I don't know if it matters.

Luckily, Dave had a trade to fall back on, doing tile installation. But, after the housing bust, that work vanished and after many months, he now works for the DOT, striping highways. And he sings Rockarokie once or twice a week. He's had his ups and downs, broken marriage, long bouts of unemployment, a son to support. He still has kind eyes, though. And I really liked him - he recognized the good in his life and embraced it. Dave still writes songs and plays the guitar and piano. He writes tunes that lean towards country music and stuff they play on The Mountain. I bet he sounds wonderful singing them. I knew I had a lot to learn from Dave. Plus, he gave me encouragement and good tips on my singing. He could tell my confidence was wavering tonight onstage.

Then, I met Johanna. She is a lovely woman, about my age, with a killer figure and long blond tresses. Johanna works as a hairdresser and she is always one of the best singers of the night, when she performs. She sings every week at her church and also performs music at other area houses of worship. Her husband is a bass player and they met and fell in love when they were in the same band together. I swear I only hear about singers marrying the bass players. Not the lead guitarists or keyboard players or drummers. Always the bass players. Wonder why that is? Maybe the bass players have more time to flirt, because they have fewer notes to play... Johanna has a young child and is frustrated with the duties of motherhood - or that's how it seemed to me.

She and I got up onstage together, actually, and sang Madonna's "Borderline". I wish she would have looked at me while singing. When I do a duet, I like to make eye contact. Nerves, probably. We are both hyper-critical of our performances while singing.

Lesson learned tonight:

When I pursue my passion (in this case, singing) I find what I need. Tonight, connecting with other singers and learning about their lives made me feel better about the state I'm in. I miss hanging out with musicians and singers. Our minds are similar. We communicate in a non-linear fashion.

I'm still broke and now have a nearly empty gas tank but I made connections. I am richer for it.

Gino Vanelli, Evil Eye

I feel like I've been courting the Evil Eye lately. I totally screwed up my unemployment by being in the desert, trying to save my own life. I made the horrible mistake of telling the unemployment people that I was sick - which lead them to send out a bunch of paperwork to an address I no longer have. The mail was forwarded to my sister but I didn't get it until it was too late.

I have to fix this. I have only a dollar to my name - in my wallet. My bank account is overdrawn. I feel like a total fuck-up. My mother didn't help things when she screamed at me yesterday - she was going to send me a few dollars to help out but when I sneezed into the phone she went ballistic and I hung up on her. Typical for her - she's accused me of deliberately doing awful things my entire life.

Go away, Evil Eye!!!!!