Just in case you aren't familiar with the term, "Sour Grapes" is what happens when you want something really badly, but can't have it so you pretend like you don't want it. I think the story goes that there was a fox or some other animal and a monkey (or some other animal) and the monkey is up in the tree with some delicious grapes and the fox is down on the ground and really really wants some, but he's enemies with the monkey and the monkey doesn't want to share so the fox says "Oh I don't want any of your crummy grapes anyway because they are sour". I know, don't quit my day job. If that's not the story, that's fine. You get the jist.
The reason I bring it up is because I know deep down (I think) that my whole move from Hollywoodland has a little something to do with this whole sour grapes thing. It's either a case of sour grapes or a case of I finally realized that I have no talent and no artistic capabilities anywhere inside of me and it would be a waste for me to pursue anything that would require me to possess either of those qualities. Yeah, it's one of those two things. Sometimes it's honestly hard to tell which one it is.
Or maybe it's a case of "The Grass Is Always Greener" (listen to the awesome Travis song "Side" when pondering this). If it is...surely I will get sick of moving in and out of the city at some point and this whole thing can finally come to an end. Until then...(Jesus, I recently stated on my Facebook page that I longed for the days when my blogs were about LA men and their douchebaggery...Be Careful What You Wish For!!!!) My Goodness.
You see, I was convinced that my days of singing were pretty much over. And I decided quite a while back that I hated auditioning so much that I would rather not act than ever embarrass myself again at a casting call or in an acting class. I've always known deep down (I think) that that was total bullshit, but fear is a pretty strong device for paralyzation (wow, that's actually a word!), the thing is though...the artist inside, the one buried and stuffed down down doooown can't shut the f^&* up. It doesn't care if you are afraid, it doesn't want to be suffocated. It doesn't want to die. It will shout with it's last dying breath "Look at Me! Looooook at Meeeee!" Bastard.
If that hungry little artist is a bastard, then inspiration is a little bitch. Being inspired makes it really hard for me to just give up on my dreams. Unfortunately, the inspiration is fleeting and the fear is rather constant. I need to figure out how to flip the scales on that one. But seriously folks, shouldn't those dreams just die already? Starving artists are kinda hot when they are in their twenties...in their thirties and beyond...aren't they just tragic? Or pathetic even? GET A REAL JOB AND GIVE IT UP LOSER! Isn't that what people say as they pass by pointing and laughing? The extremely insecure part of me thinks the world is a cruel place, no? Jeez louis.
This past Thursday my brother put together a show at his cabaret venue down in Hollywood. It was a celebration for his birthday and the theme was "Songs that I am Thankful For" cause Thanksgiving is upon us and it seemed apropos. He asked if I would like to perform at this show and of course I said yes, even though I haven't performed or applied my voice to anything useful in over two years. He chose a song that we had recorded about 5 years ago that I never let see the light of day. It was an original arrangement of the song "Take a Chance on Me" by Abba. We had turned it into a ballad, cause I really just love to sing sad sad saaad songs. Anyway, he always liked it and since it was his birthday, I agreed to sing whatever song he chose. I rehearsed it up here at my Mom's house for about a week and I pretty much thought it sounded like crap still, but I reasoned that if my brother liked it, it couldn't sound all that bad and that I just had to trust him and not myself because I usually think most of my work is total crap. (That's how you can tell I'm a real artist...right?)
Well, as it turns out, my brother was right and the song apparently wasn't total crap because after performing it I got several of those genuine "I really liked it" "That was great" "I love what you did with that song" comments. You can tell the real compliments from the fake ones, believe me. Besides that, I felt great about it. That isn't to say that my voice is exactly where I want it to be or that it was a perfect performance by any means. It just means that I got to experience once again this thing that performing is. And I love it. I love singing. I love singing for an audience. There's just no two ways about it. This is not something that I should be stifling or pushing away or quitting or second guessing or not doing because I think I'm too old or I'm not good enough. This is something that I should be doing. As much as possible. It's just as simple as that.
My therapist says that art does not come from us, it comes through us. I like that idea because it certainly takes some of the pressure off. If there is something outside of us that chooses us as a vehicle for expression, who are we to deny that? It's an honor to be chosen and it shouldn't be taken lightly.
I know that jealousy and anger stem from not having things that we want. Things that we see other people having. It's hard to stomach. It could be an object, it could be another person, it could be an opportunity. I think that a lot of my experience in Los Angeles was colored by this type of covetousness. I think I thought that if I left and didn't have to have other peoples amazing lives shoved in my face all day long that I would stop wanting what they had, but...I don't think that it works that way. I don't want those things because they are in my face, I want them because I think I can do the same things and as much as my f-ed up psyche has tried to tell me that I don't deserve them or can't have them, there's always this little voice inside me that knows better. That doesn't want to give up. Little trooper that voice. What a persistent little beast it is. It's either a smart little voice or a delusional little voice. If I keep referring to it that way, we are going to have to err on the side of delusion and I'm going to get hauled off to the looney bin, so I'll stop.
So now I'm thinking about moving back to Hollywood. I never in a hundred years thought that was going to happen. Nosirreebob I surely did not see that coming. There are other things that I am interested in doing down there other than singing, but I won't get into that right now. For now it will suffice to say that I'm thinking about it. Hard. I miss my brother, I miss my friends. I miss the weather. I know I was freakin' lonelier than all get out, but there are a lot of reasons for that and I might be able to do something about that now. Now that I have a fresh perspective.
I am going to end the blog here. I do want to give a shout out to miss Audra Mae who is an extremely talented singer/songwriter. I told her I was gonna post her CD here on my blog, so...look to the left. She is amazeballs, you should buy this music. Click and enjoy:)
---(Also, if you are going to be doing any shopping online this holiday season, do it here on my blog page through Amazon...I am currently unemployed you know...help a single gal out!)
I also want to thank my brother for always pushing me, believing in me, and making music with me. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you lots and lots.
xo
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