The Exorcist

Having been sick for the past 3 weeks, I now know the creative stimulus behind the scene in the The Exorcist, where Linda Blaire is twisting her head and spewing vile things from her mouth around the room. Let’s just say that phlegm the size of golf balls have been departing my body; the coughing, causing hoarseness, has made me sound like I am someone from the underworld.

Having not much else to do but rest, I found myself researching phlegm on line and discovered in one article the following warning: Spit the phlegm out; don’t swallow it. This reminds me of other stupid warnings such as: (click on image to see up close)-

 

Need I say more? Being that I need to return to bed, I think I’ll leave it at that.

Unfriending

Apparently I lost a friend the other day. I had 273 friends on Facebook and then it was 272. I know I should feel deeply saddened by the fact that someone has chosen to end our relationship, to sever all ties, to excommunicate me so to speak, the problem is, I have no idea who it was that potentially broke my friendship heart. When I look at all the pictures of the people I am friends with on Facebook, I do feel I know most of them fairly well, minus a couple here or there. Being a bit OCD, I did go through each name to see if I could figure out who might have unfriended me but again- nothing- no clues- no idea. I wish I could feel sad or self-righteous about the situation but not knowing who did this, makes it impossible. I wonder if the person thought that it would make some sort of statement or impact on me by clicking that little “X” and removing me from their friends? I wonder if they spent time thinking about how I wronged them or if it was just a cleaning up of the old facebook file of unused friends? Back in my day, unfriending was completely different. I know I sound like the dad who said, “back in my day we had to walk barefoot in the show to get to school…” But here goes…

It was the summer of 1977…

I was 14 and my summer was not going the way I had planned. I had been practically forced to go to music camp by my parents because I was “so talented and would get sooo much out of it.” Only to be practically kicked out because my “exceptional talent” did not include “good sight reading” and therefore “I would not be able to keep up with the rest of the group which I am sure will be quite humiliating” echoed Mrs. Homestibun’s upper-octave voice that sounded like singing nails on a blackboard.

Standing in the parking lot waiting for my mom to pick me up was humiliating. What was even worse was that the most popular girl in school, Beebe, had seen what had happened and vowed to tell all upon her return. I hoped that a big tuba would fall crushing Beebe almost to death but alive enough to hear some ugly boy blast it one more time letting some extra saliva drip through the tubes on to her creamy tan face. After which she would be jinxed and would have to go out with him resulting in making her the laughing stock of music camp – instead of me.

I took in a deep breath as I saw the ugly lime green Datsun station wagon approaching the lot. My mother had that pathetic what happened now look on her face and seemed at a total loss. I couldn’t deal with her at this point as I had to get home and call my best friends, Stacy and Michelle before Beebe had a chance to tell them what happened.

I jumped out of the car before it was completely stopped, ran through the garden, and into the house.

“What is going on with you honey? Please be careful of my bonsai, I just planted that!” my mom yelled after me.

I rushed by my step-father Leonard, chomping on some trail mix.  ”Slow down Jesus. You think you own the place?”

There was no time to deal with the mutant, but I managed to get a good glare in at him as I picked up the phone and dialed Stacy’s number. We talked for a minute and everything seemed okay- at least for now. Beebe was due home in one week.

 

Exactly a week later I heard the telephone ring followed by the shrill voice of my mom calling me.

“Liiisa! Lisa! Lisa honey, the phone is for you. Haven’t you heard me calling you for the past five minutes? I think it’s your friend Michelle.”

I picked up the upstairs extension with a uncomfortable gnawing feeling in my stomach, the kind that knows the future kind of feeling. A very weak, “Hello” came out.

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded like the Mission Impossible man on the tape that self-destructed during every episode.

“Hi Lisa. Meet us at Silverball in exactly twenty minutes.”  Click

Looking up at the top of the stairs that led to Silverball I knew that my executioner’s awaited. There at the top of the stairs were Stacy, Michelle, and right in the middle, with a very cool looking jacket on was Beebe.

They walked down the stairs to meet me. It was obvious that I was no longer going to be allowed into Silverball, the cool person’s hangout. They surrounded me. I thought Beebe would just tell me she didn’t like me and get it over with but they wanted me to really suffer. First Beebe was telling me that she did not in fact like me but more importantly that both Michelle and Stacy did not like me either. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I looked to Michelle for help. She merely confirmed everything Beebe was saying. Stacy nodded in robotic agreement with them as they took off my badges of coolness and robbed me of  any happiness I was to ever feel again. I could now, with complete abandon, not ever trust anyone in the whole wide world again and use this memory to fuel deep seeded resentments for years and years!

Now that is what I call a perfect unfriending. So to the facebook friend who decided to unfriend me, you may want to learn from this story–cause back in my day- unfriending was done with gusto and truly had an impact. Where as yours, my now unfriend, was almost unnoticed.

Sleepless in SF

I should still be asleep being that I didn’t go to bed until about 1AM but nonetheless, here I am awake.

We celebrated my brother’s 40th birthday last night. The whole family was there at the old Spaghetti Factory. I managed to have a meal sans spaghetti and bread- not so much because of the “fat ass” comment but more due to the fact that I don’t like how I feel when I eat those types of foods. And if truth be known, I actually like my butt. So that is a topic that is now officially dropped, at least until next time.

I watched a video of me skydiving the other day. It was a birthday present to my then finance’. Being that I get sick on roller coasters it was quite a feat that I did this- 15,000 miles up in the sky attached to a guy in a suit painted with skulls. Watching that video, I realized again how I sometimes do not know how to say what I am feeling when I am feeling it. I was terrified- seeing my fiance and two other friends jump out of a reasonably functioning plane was beyond words. As my tandem diver scooted us closer to the open door of the plan- let’s repeat that- AN OPEN DOOR OF A PLANE!!! I considered staying aboard and just landing the normal way but then there we were- standing in the open doorway. I felt absolute terror. And then, 1-2-3, kick your legs back and fold your arms up by your chest and off we go- a summersault taking my stomach into my throat and there it remained the rest of the 15,000 fall while I tried to smile and be happy for the video guy falling in front of me. Upon landing (and I have to say my landing was superb), I said, “that was great.” But was it really? No- it wasn’t- it was by far the scariest thing I had ever gone through (intentionally) and “it was great” because IT WAS OVER. But seeing how happy it made my fiance at the time to see me seemingly enjoy it, it became great- great in my memory- and over time, I stuffed the feeling of terror and replaced it with the lie of greatness.

Those types of lies can erode the soul. Acting one way but feeling another-

I suddenly have the urge to talk about sex for some reason when thinking about this topic of lying-  but am not quite ready to divulge my sexual experiences here on the world wide web even though that might get me more views- I just don’t feel I know you well enough. Perhaps one day but for now let’s just say that I will never jump out of a perfectly running plane again. I have no interest and would never want to put myself at risk like that. It is by far the most insane thing I’ve ever done. And, although I can say I truly hated it…there is a small little part of me, deep down inside- that actually does believe- It was great.

Creative blahs, “phat” versus “fat”, and fan lists

It’s raining outside although compared to the amazing storms I witnessed from my 39th floor apartment in Thailand, I would say it is just misting. High up above the ground, I was the storm watcher and there were lots of storms to watch. Big black luminous clouds making their way, filling the sky with lightening and thunder. It was awesome and energizing, not like the misting of rain that is happening today. It could be due to my still lingering cold, but this kind of weather makes me want to stay bundled up and hidden from the world. It is grey- my mood becomes grey with it.

Yesterday I ventured out to go grocery shopping and on my way to the car, a guy in his 20s with some of his friends, commented, “now that’s a fat ass.” I wondered if it was meant as “phat” or “fat”- if “phat” then what a nice way to start the day. But if “fat” then thoughts of starvation, fasting, diet clubs, and the like come to mind. My sense was that it was meant as “fat” – and perhaps my rear is bigger than some, but it is also smaller than many here in America. I am also fortunate to have a curvy figure that is pretty proportionate. But even with all the nice affirmations I can say to myself on a daily basis, when some young ignorant 20’s something guy, says “fat ass” the result was tears and self-loathing for the next couple of hours.

Do men realize what kind of effect something like that can have on a woman? How I wish I could reply at the time, “thank you” or “small penis”, or “small brain”- but instead, when it has happened (and it has happened three times in my life), the result is always complete despair. I become smaller than the sum total of my being and much smaller than my ass and feel shame and sadness. I called my good friend L in the East Bay and later my friend K in SF,  and together but separately they helped right size my brain again. I proudly took my ass into Safeway and put healthy foods into my basket – even willing to pay extra for organic as if somehow eating organic will reduce the size of my butt. I took my “phat” ass home and had kale with brussels sprouts with chicken. My ass may be fat, but it is filled with organic veggies and whole foods.

So it’s grey and I sit here at my computer with the little light on at my desk and the shades of grey urging me to go lay down and take a nap. I feel that I need to be doing something for my career- I am looking at ways to consolidate all the various music sites I have. I currently have Fanbridge for notifying folks about gigs, Sonicbids for finding gigs and sending out electronic press kits, three myspace accounts- (one for me, one for old band, and one for new), website in development, facebook, and now ReverbNation. Too many, too much. I think that with the exception of my own website, I am going to move the rest to ReverbNation but not sure yet. Any thoughts on that- please let me know.

So, perhaps the creative blahs have won out…I am going to take my “phat” self and rest a while until the grey turns to something different.

 

Left Brain in Denial

So it seems like today is a new day, both in the actual day of the week and attitude. I woke up feeling inspired again to reactivate my teacher brain. I have been asked to present a workshop overseas and need to show the correlation between what I am presenting and that particular region’s education standards. I associate this type of work with the “left-brain” – logical, sequential, rational, analytical, objective, and ability to break down and look at parts of the whole. Being a “creative type”, I am almost completely “right-brain” – random, intuitive, holistic, synthesizing, subjective, and ability to look at whole picture. So generally this type of work makes me want to gag. I cease up and feel like I am going to vomit or at the very least, just avoid this kind of work until the pressure is too great and I have to complete it.

I started out slowly this morning, looking at the various standards and an example of how someone else completed their form. My needing to see an example reminds me how important it is for some students to be able to see the whole picture of what is expected of them  in order to successfully complete the task.  I learn by seeing- a visual learner as Howard Gardner would call it. Howard Gardner’s work around multiple intelligences had a profound effect on my practice as a teacher and was the foundation of my master’s thesis. “…there exists a multitude of intelligences, quite independent of each other; that each intelligence has its own strengths and constraints; that the mind is far from unencumbered at birth; and that it is unexpectedly difficult to teach things that go against early ‘naive’ theories of that challenge the natural lines of force within an intelligence and its matching domains.” (Gardner 1993: xxiii) Being aware that I am a visual learner but also a logical learner, I was then able to go through each section methodically and analyze what I needed to do to successfully complete the task in a rational manner.

So the question is, Am I really only a right brain? When I think about how I compose music, it is random and intuitive but there is also a logical sequence to the form of the music. The verses, chorus, and bridge all have a specific place in the song- I look at the whole picture but without focusing on the parts of the song, the whole would be chaos. So perhaps I am a right brain that leans toward the left.

Running a band that makes little to no money is extremely challenging. Most of the members are obviously in this for fun and must do other things to make a living.  I on the other hand, think of my music as an essential and necessary part of my life and although that brings me great joy, it can also be quite stressful if I start to rely on it to make money making me thankful that my left brain kicked in again today. I tell myself that I would love to find a way to make money doing music, but I wonder if that is completely true. Although the creative process of music is both right and left brain- ultimately – Music is joy- music is expression- music is freedom. When the value of money and wages are attached to it, it becomes reduced to bottom lines, rational or irrational- is it good enough?- analytical. The logical conclusion becomes that if one is not making money at it, and one needs money- then  do something else. Then it becomes a complete left-brain experience and again my stomach turns sour and I want to hide my head in the sand. Although this makes sense to me and my left-brain, my right brain wants to cry out, No- not fair- this is what I love and I am good at it! There are just a million other people who are also good at it and I feel invisible- a tiny grain of sand amongst a shoreline.

If I support Gardner’s theory, then I am led to believe that I was born with a predisposition to the right brain- Or I perhaps I was born as a left brain in denial. Who knows- I do know that I am feeling a bit better today and am now planning to go out for a walk that doesn’t involve education or music.

Life Swap

I am sitting here at my computer in my bathrobe- pink and fuzzy. I am home with a cold. I’d probably be home anyway as I’ve been unemployed for several months. I was sitting on the couch so this is actually a step up. I may actually go sit outside in a little while. That would be a miracle. I am potentially going through a bit of a mid-life crisis. When I posted that on Facebook, and asked how others made it through- I got comments ranging from folks buying a horse to telling me to get a therapist. I would opt for the horse but there isn’t enough room in the backyard. I actually have a backyard, which I don’t sit in often enough.

So while sitting on the couch, watching another episode of Wife Swap, I wondered if I was actually still sick or just a bit depressed. Knowing that, would I want to swap my life? Ever since I can remember, I have been the “creative” type. I’ve held many “job jobs” as we creative types like to call those jobs that pay the bills but don’t necessarily pay the soul. One of those jobs has been a teacher for the past 12 years. Most were shocked when I became a teacher as many thought I didn’t like kids. What they didn’t realize is that it wasn’t that I didn’t like kids, I just felt too much like a kid myself and felt a bit afraid at the notion of being with other realkids and having to somehow support and help them to become mature citizens when I felt so poorly equipped. My ability to improvise and be creative lead me to becoming a very good teacher and I grew to love my students (most of them- yes- there is a way to not like all children- but deep inside I have loved all of them even when they drove me nuts.) Teaching is no ordinary “job job” as it takes every ounce of energy and I found over the years that my creative self was quickly disappearing, suffering, suffocating. I had swapped my creative self for a mature responsible self. I felt like my creative self was dying but there is another part of me that just loves teaching and what I am able to contribute to the hearts and minds of children. I just need to find the balance.

Now I am 45 and finally feel like I have my priorities straight and yet the fear is intense. I’ve written over 30 songs in just the past two years. I now have a band. We perform for as little as nothing and as much as something. We are going to start recording a CD in a couple of weeks. I will be paying for this out of my pocket- I am not discovered. I am working hard to appreciate the fame that others have received as a result of Myspace and YouTube- but it is difficult at times. I am grateful for my amazing friends and family and some of them have also sponsored this CD endeavor. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. I am scared. What if this is just a big pipe dream and I spend a ton of money on it only to have a thousand CDs in my basement. Wait- I don’t have a basement.But I do have a garage that is filled with things I don’t understand belonging to my best friend and roommate Tony. I adore him but not his stuff. He has a lot of stuff- stuff for work, stuff he plans to sell on Craigslist, stuff he plans to put in his new home, recreational stuff, sporting stuff. A lot of stuff. Sometimes I can’t find the dryer because it is loaded with stuff.  But even with all his stuff, there would still probably be room for my 1000 CDs. Maybe I should encourage him to get more stuff which might motivate me to cell the CDs knowing there would be no room for them in the garage.

So when I finally got up from watching Wife Swap, showered, and put on my pink fuzzy bathrobe, I decided to create this blog. Maybe there are a million other creative types out there who struggle with the notion of doing what they love and making a living. Maybe we can come together to support each other in living our dream- bringing joy to others through music, art, drama, dance, eclectic drumming- maybe there are creative types who have given up and permanently swapped lives with their “mature, responsible self” who might begin to feel the stirring of the creative fire urging them to reconnect. I just know that if I give up, I will have swapped the best part of me- the part that cries when I hear a moving piece of music, the part that laughs at my own silliness when performing improvisation, the part that feels like a passionate diva when singing in front of tourists in San Francisco, the part of me that is a wild, sexy, songstress who loves her hips, her eyes, her sound. I can’t give it up when I have finally just found her. I hope you will join me on this journey and hold hope and strength that by following my creative passion, I will be truly Creating Lisa.