Archive for the ‘Waiting For The Bus’ Category


Rockin’ and Reelin’

August 26, 2008

My new favorite song, Northern Line by Opal:

I’m dreaming on a night train
It’s only been a light rain, and a darkened sky and a starry night
I’m humming on a cold train
I’m singing about the wreck of the Old 97

And I’m walking through this city
I’ll tell my story to the rain
And I won’t come back no matter what you say

I’m feeling no pain
I don’t care if I ever see your face again
I’m riding on a Northern Line
I got no money – but I got a lot of time to spend

And I’m walking through this city
Yeah I’ll tell my story to the rain
And I won’t come back no matter what you say
No I won’t come back no matter what you say

After a recent crash-n-burn with a friend I never dreamed I could have a falling out with, Mr. Twittles suddenly reappeared. An email after months of nothing. Rather than starting another firestorm, I decided to answer with a graceful if non-commital reply. Non-commital seems to be what people want, or at the very least, what they can handle. So that’s what they’ll get until I get a clear signal otherwise. Which I don’t think I’m going to get.

This leaves me with my music and singing, which means more to me than anything. A and I are back on regular rehearsal schedule again, in spite of his job and apartment hopping. I forgive him because he is adrift in the fast-moving stream of life and I’ve been there. I’m pretty sure he’ll settle soon, and as long as he makes rehearsals, I don’t care what he does with his own life, as long as he’s clean and not hitting me up for money.

We will record in mid September. And then up goes the web site. I plan to shoot a lot of video footage, and have music vids on our site.

I have an audition next week for a backup/lead singer position with a cover band. I am making huge strides with the new coach I’ve been working with. He gets pop music, and I am learning how to transform all the training I’ve had into something that works for these genres.

I persist, although my heart is broken.


Just Call Me Dorothy

October 17, 2007

Update: Feeling much better. Ate some dinner, watched Pushing Daisies (cuz Lee Pace is hawt and the writing on the show is pretty damn good), talked to my husband while looking at his picture on my desktop. Did I mention I’ve also consumed an entire box of shortbread cookies? Nothing like a little butter and sugar to calm this girl down. Screw my waistline, I’ll dance it off when I’m back home. Just consider the following an exercise in me trying, not very successfully, to write away my anxiety. I bought ‘Naked’ by David Sadaris today, one of my favorite authors. Oh, and a box of sleeping pills. Hopefully, between all of those, I will have some relief in the form of sleep this evening. Manana, babies.

I have been feeling strange for quite some time. Since late July, actually. It’s gotten to a point where I don’t even want to have a drink for fear of what the anxiety of feeling out of control will do to me. Normally, I thoroughly enjoy a little drinky now and then, but I am feeling so fragile right now that I don’t even want it. That’s a whole new kind of fragile for me.

I don’t know what’s going on with me. Is it just the European extravaganza? Getting sick afterwards? The recent news of my brother? Coming to the sorry [and expensive] realization that making significant plans with ‘internet friends’ is, in general, a bad idea? Feeling very shitty about coming to the realization?

I feel like I’m on a bad merryground ride and I want off. I want it to all be okay. I want a nice woman to come and hold my hand, wrap me in a blanket and say soothing things to me that let me let go of this horrible feeling inside. I want it to be about 4 months ago, and I want to redo a whole bunch of stuff. I was in a better place back then, and I’d like to get back there, real soon.

Manhattan is still glorious, but I’m not having a good time. I’m spending a lot of time in the [very cute] place a rented, not out in this beautiful city. And it’s making me think too much about the failed internet friendship and mostly, it’s making me feel really lonely, which is a hot button for me.

I’ve spent far too much time alone in big cities and I think, in different times, I would have been totally okay to come here alone. But now I’m realizing it was actually a bad idea. A very bad idea.

So… I’ve booked a flight back home on Saturday. I would like to see my brother before I go, otherwise, I seriously think I would leave tomorrow. It’s just not the right time for me to be having this kind of adventure and I should have admitted it to myself before I left.

My brother is refusing to listen to the doctors about what he should do. They are recommending surgery or chemo, pronto. He is refusing it. I am terrified he will change his mind only when it is too late. I am also wondering if it’s his way of, consciously or not, getting off of his own merry-go-round, in a very permanent kind of way.

Jesus, everything feels so completely fucked up right now… I can’t seem to feel grounded. I thought I was going to even have a panic attack at some point, I think on the plane here, I can’t even remember when exactly… and that’s not good. I don’t get those anymore, ever. To feel the green-headed monster of panic starting to raise its snakey little head means I’m in a dark and lonely place I should get out of fast.

I’ve not slept well in 3 days, that has a lot to do with things. I bought a sleep aid today, and I’m really hoping it will work. On top of everything else, I’m worried about getting run down and getting sick again. Probably won’t happen, but my mind seems to be spinning in viscious little circles of anxiety and despair.

Maybe I should stretch and do some Pilates. Movement is often a great cure for these kind of doldrums. And I’ll be home soon.

I can admit to you now that I seriously considered bringing my teddy bear on this trip [yes, I have one.] And I’m really wishing I had now.

Where is the beautiful fairy witch, in her pink puffy gown, descending with a mercurial laugh to make it all better…? Click your heels three times, and say…


Where Is She?

October 7, 2007

Growing up the way I did, I fantasized for a long time about how life would be on the other side — the other side being life away from my crazy family and all of their insanity. I just knew it would be perfect, there would be so many great people to meet, who would of course be fabulous and think I was fabulous. We would have super fun parties to go to, we would do cool things and never be bored or scared. We would be artists, we would dance and sing, we’d eat great food and listen to great music and live life the way it was meant to be lived.

I fantasized that this would take place in a large city, preferably New York City — I didn’t think of it as Manhattan. The word ‘Manhattan’ was far too elegant for my dreams. We would be cutting edge and uber cool and not at all bourgeois and most definitely not suburban, so this would all happen in New York City. Not Manhattan. And I would never be bored or scared.

And in this dream, I would have met, at last, The Friend. You know which one I’m talking about: The Real Friend. The True Friend. You’d tell her everything, and vice versa and you’d never get bored or sick of each other, or even if you did, you both could handle it. You’d take a break and everything would be fine again. She’d get your jokes, the two of you would have frequent bouts of silliness and laughing so hard it hurt and you’d think she was so much better than your real sister. She would dig your boyfriend without making moves on him, or if you were both single, you’d be the perfect partners in love crimes. And if she had a boyfriend, you’d never be a third wheel. And anyway, the two of you were so fine, it didn’t even matter. Because you were having so much fun. Because you had a Real Friend.

And while I thought I might have found her a few times, she’s never really stuck around. In other words, she’s never shown up. And basically, I no longer think she’s coming.


My ‘Internet Friend’ pulled a fast one on me. The [rather expensive] flat I rented for us in Manhattan that we were supposed to share will now be paid for entirely out of my own pocket. My ‘friend’ has decided that she would like to stay in her own place. Why, you ask? Because she’s worried that I’m going to get a relapse of my sinus infection and have to cancel my trip and she’ll no longer have a place to stay [she reserved a room at the Y, just in case.] I told her previously that if that happened, I would gladly pay for my share still. It would suck, but I wouldn’t put a single woman alone and homeless on the streets of NYC. It’s just not my style.

My husband and another friend thinks she’s nuts. I’m thinking that I just have really bad judgement and I don’t know how to pick good people around me. Which makes me feel really shitty about myself. Aren’t I supposed to better at this at the age of 43? I mean, booking a flat with an ‘internet friend’… what the fuck was I thinking…? And then I think I’m beating myself up when she is the one who renigged. She is the one who is stupid and kind of sucks. Not I.

I considered canceling the whole trip, but I want to go. I love Manhattan. Love. It. I’m not going to let this ruin things. There’s a chance another friend will join me for a few days, that will help with the financial aspect. It’s not really about the money, though, of course. It’s the principal. It’s yet another letdown when I have a held out my hand — with a little bit of my heart in it — once again.

I used to put the whole heart out there, every time. Proudly worn on my sleeve. And then I noticed it was getting a little battered, a little worse for wear. Down it went and I think, down it will stay until someone proves to me that I should do otherwise.

Lots of wise people say you have to have no expectations of anybody in order to be happy in life. I’m kind of tired of being sad and let down. So maybe I’ll just decide that I really don’t care what she does. And have myself a grand old time in The Big Apple with the bestest friend I’ll ever know: ME.