Reasons I am Losing My Damn Mind

1. Lack of a level of professional success I desire. This week I have heard nothing but positive things, people wishing me success and fame, questioning why I haven’t “made it” yet and that I’m bound. I get told I’m overqualified for certain positions, I’m on a set at a venue I’ve played to watch Natasha Bedingfield mess up her lines for the umpteenth time and I wonder what I’ve been managing to do wrong to be sitting on the sidelines. I should be grateful for any moment of work because this economy is so crappy right now I wonder where the next gig will come from.

2. My formers. My exes. Good lord. I talk with them, as they all seem to care and want to check in, but I don’t have to say two words for them to not go on some insane rant or vent about how I don’t care or how I don’t see their good, “blah blah fucking blah blah.” Okay. I get it. You feel guilty, like you screwed up, maybe. We have a history so thick of challenges and strife that they’re only answer is to get self-defensive.

3. I’ve been trained myself to have low expectations of men. I expect all of them to cheat on me. I expect all to be terrified of commitment because none of them have committed to me. I expect all of them to use another woman as an excuse for why they cannot be with me, only to have them try again and again to rekindle what was once had. I expect to not be good enough to be anything more than a fling in their eyes as we spend time together, then when I’m gone something they consider “oh so special.”

4. I maintain an open heart in spite of my pains and baggage. I fall in love far too easily. And as much as I hate emotional people, well, I’m one of them. I write songs for God’s sake.

5. I’m ready to self-destruct. I’m impulsive to end things that take time. I have a level of impatience with myself and with the time line of my life that is just unfair. I want everything yesterday. I’m certain to make up my mind about something, especially relationships with men, so I can end it and move on and have total control. Yes, I am a control freak.

6. I never take the easy road to anything. Whether a relationship, or career path, education, or dream, or even buying the cheapest food items in a ten block radius, I will take the complicated route. Anything given to me I don’t trust, I somehow have to earn everything myself and be ridiculously sure that I made it happen with my own hard work. Being told no is nothing more than another liter of fuel on my fire.

Sugar Loaf

In spite of the torrential rain, I had an amazing time performing in Sugar Loaf. I consistently told Scott, my musical partner in crime, that I want to relocate there and live in the arts community like a hippy. He remarked that I would be bored in a day. So back to Manhattan it was. WTBQ is airing the recorded live broadcast all month, so check their listings if you feel so inclined. The Lycian Centre was beautiful and rustic and the rain tapping against the windows added a magical aura.

Random Acts of Kindness

I’ve been feeling particularly
bad with the recent bombardment of dark news, the tanking economy, the
war, the greed, and the excess. Every day I’ve vowed to make note of
random acts of kindness. I live in New York and that makes me privy to
an insane consumption of stories and muses that must be weeded through
to get to the kind acts.


I’ve
been feeling a need to reconnect with humanity. It may not be
profitable or news worthy in our society, but I thought it might just
enrich my day to day living, which has been plagued with fiscal
challenges, serious doubts in people, and an overall fear that I’m not
doing enough every day to bring light into the world.


So
tonight- the random act of kindness. I was on an uptown train, reading
“My Maggie,” when I overheard a rather incoherent man’s ramblings at
the opposite end of the train car.


Pweese d’ust help me zippah ‘dis. I was in da hopital. I can’t do it alone,”
a tall man inquired of another man who was zoning out and listening to
his ipod. The man kept insisting for help and at first I was skeptical
of the zipper he wanted to have zipped. I soon realized it was his
hoodie and not his shorts.


“Pweese help me. Be a man,” he
implored and the ipod dude just stared ahead, mildly smirking. I began
to weigh the options, considering walking to the end of the train to
zip the man’s jacket. As I thought of the worst possible scenario in
helping him another man approached him and reached for the zipper.


“Hang
on, dude. I got it for you,” he said as the handicapped man clutched
the overhead railing and swayed to and fro. “There ya go. God bless
you,” he said and returned to his seat

I thought of being broken
down in front of the George Washington Bridge a few months ago and how
no one helped. Some were too busy to reach their destination, but
others were probably scared of what could happen.

There is
humanity out there. And a level of kindness that prevails fear. I’ll
keep blogging on my own experiences, and encourage you all to look for
examples in the day to day and share them.

Like Attracts Like

One of the fears of working in the entertainment industry, and I’d
imagine it appears in similar ruthless businesses, is that in order to
reach success you must become shady or a total asshole because the
people at the “top” are overwhelmingly nasty. But I’ve come to realize,
it’s a matter of attracting the good ones and refraining from the
negativity.

Last year I was working on a movie and I honestly could not tell you
the name if I tried. It was a night shoot in the meatpacking industry
and the cobblestone streets became individual rivers courtesy of the
deluge of water that started two hours into shooting. By four in the
morning, very little progress had been made and I sat with a few models
underneath the awning of Pastis. A well-bronzed blonde fitness model
shared a table with me and started a conversation dominated by her
gripes about the lack of craft service and miserable conditions. The
model behind us was snapping her gum and the blonde muttered aloud, “I
really hate it when people snap their gum in my ear. It’s so fucking
annoying.”

There was a moment of silence and the gum-snapping model tuned in. “I’m
so sorry. Were you talking about me? I didn’t even realize I was doing
it.”

The blonde growled, “Um, no, not you and
I was having a private conversation so you should mind your own
business.” I felt embarassed that I may be a part of this bitchy
clique, associated with someone so short-tempered. Throughout our
conversation she couldn’t help but name-drop her ultra-famous boyfriend
who rented a 10,000 a month apartment and spoiled her senseless. It
made her question why she’d ever take the time to work on a night shoot
like this. What’s more, she began complaining about a pregnant woman on
set who was left in the holding area because she requested it.

“Just because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she should just do what she
wants. She should have to sit in the rain with us or just stay home and
don’t work. I mean, what a lazy ass,” the girl continued in her
diatribe. I just continued to listen and nod, knowing there was no
place I could personally go. Eventually the rain was so severe that the
shoot was wrapped and we all went back to the holding area, in this
church with steep marble stairs. The blonde was in the biggest rush to
get home and in her hurry fell down the stairs and broke her ankle. Her
shrieking could be heard blocks away yet who was the first to rush to
her side and wipe away her tears? Why, it was the pregnant woman that
she had mocked for half an hour.

Tonight, watching the 11 o’clock news, her famous boyfriend was part an
investigation for unpaid bills in the amount of $19,000. It took an
eyewitness news investigation to shame him into making a partial
payment. It made me wonder if he’s still with the blonde and if her
ankle-breaking incident may have been a wakeup call to be kinder to
others. I highly doubt it. It’s a small world, and if like attracts
like, then I’m keeping positive and genuine.

American Sexuality

Just beginning a blog like this could let me venture beyond political correctness and into a basin of uncouth stories from my sexually frustrating ties with men. I’m not sure if it’s safe to venture that this is an American issue, or if I’m a personal magnet for unusual men. I’d be pretty confident to bet that I’m not the only one. This week I came across an article that mentioned porn consumption, happy endings, and visits to strip clubs are on the rise as the economy is on the brink of collapse and white collar workers seek reprieve. I’ve read studies on class distinctions and sexuality, it’s well documented how lower classes reproduce at a higher rate, which prior to contraception, indicated a fairer portrayal that the poor were just getting it on more. It leaves me wondering if men in lower social classes are more apt to get it on with a person, while those with money are more apt to turn to porn, strip clubs, and escorts. In the examination of my own experiences during challenging times, I found men were so isolated and fragmented that I either ended up with a player who felt some need to spread his seed to all of Manhattan or a man who self-medicated with fantasies and isolation.

I’ve always been open-minded when it comes to the bedroom, but the unintended consequences of access to porn and isolating practices are something that make me cautious. I don’t judge any of these devices as bad, but when they allow for a disconnect instead of a connection, I think it’s hurting the future of intimacy in our culture. I dated someone for five months, taking things extremely slow, but when it came time for intimacy he would be the first to ask for a photo of me to take home to fantasize over instead of being physically present and intimate with the real me. Convinced for the longest time that he was having an affair, my best friend simply concluded, “He’s having an affair with you. It’s just the image of you instead of the real you.”

Another man, who was more player than isolator in the end, refused to watch porn because he found it desensitized him. However, his solo practices were so intense and aggressive that he had to refrain from self-pleasure because it made all activities with a woman seem too gentle, soft, and unfulfilling. Considered dorky and just “a friend” by women in his earlier dating years, he adopted a set of rules that allowed him to manipulate women and situations by feeding into their insecurities and making them want to be validated by him. I personally found the entire approach obnoxious and a turn-off.

I believe a great deal of these hang-ups stems from insecurity in our men. The players need to conquer and feel validated while the isolators withdraw into their minds from fear of letting go or being inadequate.A great amount of these unattainable images and goals are media-induced and affected by porn and pop culture. I find it hard to imagine John Smith and Pocahontas having the level of performance anxiety as men today. They’d find a soft patch of grass and get it on.

After reading eastern books regarding tantric sex and Taoism, I realize how twisted our own viewpoints are with sex. Spiritual leaders would prescribe sexual practices for healing and connecting with a partner. So much shame and secrecy, deeming sex as naughty and sinful with pop culture deeming violence in films more acceptable to viewing by children than bare breasts or sexual situations. Shame, fear, and puritanical notions are just creating a greater urge for people to self-medicate in private instead of connecting with an actual person. It’s not that I condemn any of it, I just have some strong reservations when certain activities encourage a disconnect instead of a connection, whether it be to one’s self or other people. I think if only more tolerance and self-acceptance were taught the foundation for healthy living and sexuality would be established.

Feeling Good

The economy’s in the shitter
and people are in a panic, but being an artist and on my own at such a
young age, I don’t feel overwhelmed by the “crisis” at hand. As my
friend declared, “We’re the cockroaches. They can’t take us out.” I’m
not one to be found of comparisons to vermin, but I’m glad to feel
well-versed in the times of struggle. I found myself happy to see a
sudden interest in debates and the actual state of affairs in this
country as opposed to otherwise mind-consuming, pressing news reports
about Brooke Hogan’s latest tanning episode or those fools on “The
Hills” causing drama. I’ve honestly never followed either, but how many
commercials for the next TMZ exclusive must I endure?


In
these times of people questioning their career paths, unemployment
soars, and I begin to realize that my jokes about busting ass on
Goldman Sachs as a back-up plan were nothing more than a glorified pipe
dream. I’d be far more efficient acting the role than living it. And
this has also been a rather clear reminder that following my instincts
and true loves has not been as unstable and unpredictable as the lives
some of these poor folks in “stable” career paths are realizing one of
the true things in life- nothing lasts forever. The only constant force
you can rely on is the energy from your own soul.


The
real reason I began this blog is because of my own recent awakening. To
be an artist in the music industry, that is being redefined as we
speak, the road to the top is not a clear one. And as everyone knows,
my penchant for the 1970’s makes me long for the days that the music
business developed artists and music was supreme. (This is a tangent,
but has anyone seen the commercials for “Life on Mars”? A car accident
sends a dude back to 1973. I cannot imagine a better place to be
transported to. Okay, maybe 1971).


With
the lack of clarity and the incessant tasks that are involved, I’ve
been so burdened by the motions and the concepts of getting to a
certain level professionally that the actual love of music began to be
riddled with anxiety.  And only when I was asked about my dream of
headlining at Jones Beach, did something click. At first I felt numb
when asked. It felt like another item on a list; another concept
associated with things I say. But then I began to feel the passion
again, the desire to create and connect with people, that intense
urgency to make something grand of my life.


I’ve
returned with this incredible sense of optimism, not just for myself,
but for our country as well. Because when you really hit bottom,
something greater emerges. I look forward to the new material and
upcoming shows and hope you all will be a part of the journey with me.
They can take or print all the money they want, but music will still
remain.