They always love my stories: hostel life, travelling from gig to gig, Asia now when in London every ray of sunshine is so desperately looked for and cherished. My married or office-bound friends whose life evolves around work, kids, work, home and on again never really 'complain' about their more stable routine, but their eyes tell me they secretly nearly fantasize about - in their minds - so 'carefree' freelance mix of shoots, make up change, rehearsals at last minute,
bus journey to the gig location, packing up your gear before dawn,
occasional dates in between or after.
Many often think, as one friend recently commented, that our "artist life is so easy".
After all we just come up on stage & sing or speak or dance & all is - from the outside - so exciting, alluring and fun, make up and costumes,
and then money in hand or via bank transfer. Dream right?
Yes, I love travelling and I feel blessed and thankful I was given this chance to stay in Asia a bit longer (after a month hotel residency contract, that was in itself a hell of a journey proving how tricky and difficult artist life can be...)
with some performances on the way paying my way through a different sort of 'winter'.
Yes I still can't believe after 14 years of being told I " would never sing", as doctors in the past gave my baby throat no chance, now I make a living by singing, and people seem to like it so much they invite me and thank me (bless them).
Yes I love meeting all these thousands of individuals from so many different countries, religions, colours, professions, ages; all the homeless cats and dogs I feed, all the weirdest dishes I taste, or teas I try to try pestering bored shopkeepers to explain to me in their broken English every single ingredient.
Yes, I guess I am lucky that way. Yes, I gave away my business life of more preplanned but also wonderfully safe nine to whenever-the-boss-says, and exchanged it for the most unpredictable unmeasurable incomparable life of a freelance gypsy ((though I still do sales work)) .
I know I have things to be thankful for: if only the kindness of all those amazing people
who BELIEVE and want me to simply keep on singing...
And yet, I am also extremely unlucky perhaps,
because I believe both my my song-writing soul and my passion for travel,
apart from the inborn insatiable unending inexhaustible curiosity for anything,
and further, and more, and again, and on the road one more time,
they both also feed on a desire to forget things I keep remembering...
No, this post is not a complaint.
Even if I will always repeat being an artist is NOT a choice, it chooses you, if anything.
I am thankful for having a chance tomorrow to sing at the opening of a new restaurant, because the owner for whom I sang in September in KL loved my voice so much he chose me as a "special star" for this event in Ipoh. To be here, I sadly had to decline a kind invitation from one of my Malaysian friends to spend this very unique holiday with her family in Singapore, and my singing salary will help me save for a few more weeks of Asian adventure. (I lost my return ticket, so have to stay on the hot continent, somehow, till end of Dec)
Yet, if you, dear reader, now would like to congratulate me, please don't.
Because now, on Thanksgiving night, I am not with a family (sadly I probably never wouldn't...)
or dearest friends.
I type on my new best friend: a nameless red netbook, looking outside of the faceless hotel window, revising a list of songs for tomorrow.
No, it's not the case of greener grasses. There are things we chose, and there are things that are chosen upon us. If you can celebrate this beautiful day reminding us to give thanks for all our blessings with your loved ones, even if they are boring, and predictable, and uncle Sam keeps saying the same jokes he did over the past five years, cherish it. For some, whether artists or not, these jokes will never happen. They never did, there was never even a memory of uncle Sam.
And if you ever think artists are overpaid for that brief moment they appear in front of you,
almost like in a more distinguished sort of a circus, remember:
To sing like Amy W did, to write songs touching so many, helping so many,
to play so purely that you keep paying for albums and buying concert tickets,
to be such ARTIST in the deepest sense of this overused word you have to often spend years of loneliness, silence, tears, white wall in a hotel room, same dinner with a piano, misunderstandings and insults.
It is far from easy, because it goes right from the heart.
And yes, I did not chose it, but I love it.
Even if I may have tears as companions on this Thanksgiving night, I am thankful too.
Especially to all my friends who I know think of me when I enter another stage.
And one day, I hope, in between travels, shows, and all that chaos, a someone will sing me that song, and we will also have some house dinner routine, and some boring but so happy family life somewhere... :-)
It came back
Are you 'too much' again
or someone long ago gave not enough?
It seemed so
one more embarrassing time
as if all these instances when you were
too delicate, too outspoken,
too strong, too passionate, too joyful,
too 'artistic'
(as if that word meant anything apart from not meaning anything more than a 'cliche' to so many)
were not already too much for you
and then what can you do with all this?
gather it all, thought by thought,
carefully finish packing, memory by memory,
remember to smile before you leave,
open the door, skip taxi drivers,
walk straight to the bus station
sit down, headphones at hand
and just listen
Sometimes you forget who you are
or you know all along, but you want to hide it, because it hurts?
Some people seem nicest ever
only to crash you & ridicule every particle in you
and the worst is they really are nice
and they will never realise what they did
and they hurt as well seeing how they hurt you
after they left most unpleasant after feel of a very pleasant encounter...
Thankfully some others bring you back to smile,
to peace
in such obvious ways
in such silly obvious gestures
and then some songs remind you
even if you lost yourself
you'll find it again, in seconds
all you need, all you ever wanted to be
even if it gets crashed on and on
ps check regina's official video to this song, for some reason i can't upload it here
We only met yesterday
I like him so far and he likes me too:
just like two people who just met
can like each other
Nothing more, but it's good that way.
He helped me with something,
and so we chat sometimes
when we bump into each other
in this unique world of hostel-ness:
breakfasts at the lounge table, wifi on the couch,
TV with other hostel-mates
But I know I am not in any way special:
When he talks to one person his face smiles differently
and his eyes shine a bit brighter too
and his words sound a bit different too...
but I am not in any way upset about it,
I still really like him
I smile too, when I watch him with her
because he reminds me
someone who smiles LIKE THAT when they talk to me
and then I smile LIKE THAT too.
even if I know I can never forget it, I do not make a single breath without thinking about it,
but i was busy doing other things recently,
or I hid it somewhere in my mind because I love it too much?
The voice is still a bit weak,
or is it my fear telling me so?
I fought for it so many years, despite doctor's advice, despite life's advice:
being an artist & a freelancer is so freakingly unbelieveably tough!
especially when you know you are delicate & need to be careful.
even though, thank god, all is ok now, & doctors were simply wrong.
I nearly forgot but I know
I can't wait, I can't stop waiting, I can't stop worrying,
I can't stop preparing, I can't stop getting ready
I miss SINGING so damn bloody horribly terrifyingly much
and yet, I need to sometimes, in the mess of life, remind myself it is SINGING that counts the most...
My second visit to Taiping (I'll write about the 1st time soon ) was not planned at all.
But then again, maybe that's one of the uncertain certitudes in life that best things come unplanned?
I was getting ready for some travels or freelance sales work from a base in Penang when, after a very pleasant albeit brief pedicure & manicure excursion, I suddenly fell very sick... seriously sick, so sick that the following day I barely could leave my bed & 'eat' more than a bottle of orange juice a fellow hotel guest who happened to be a bit though cutely overi-nterested in me (which, as nice as he is, when your head explodes & you think the view of the dirty hotel wall will be your last one in life, is slightly more than infuriating... ) in his over-interestedness agreed to bring to me
(thank you A. I'll never forget it! :) .
I had a business / music meeting to attend, and I still wonder how on our lovely planet Earth I made it to that meeting as every step on that scorching pavement was a huge effort & it was not clear until I made it to the next step whether I would collapse or not. It was mega-sweet-and-short, in contrast to my excruciating wait for it (my meeting-ee was 45 minutes late), but I was assured " everyone falls sick in Penang at that time of the year". This was my third time sick-time in three months, however, only 4 weeks after I was treated at Penang emergency for acute attack of tonsillitis. Not good, not good at all, I thought.
My options were limited: stay in that dirty hotel room, or? Well I was simply not able to do much more: whether I liked the, on a rough estimate, at least 15 year old hospital green of the walls & variety of noises waking me up at 7 am or earlier even though this was apparently " one of the quiet rooms" or not, I had to lie down and rest, until the worst went away... OR, a tiny light bulb managed to start flashing in my brain despite a headache of the century, go to Taiping, a town I barely knew, a town I have not seen much of, but a town I was kindly invited to in a text from J. a day before this horrible sickness started, to " rest a few days if I ever wanted to".
Somehow despite tons of cactuses growing in my throat with every second, I managed to make a call:
" J. I was wondering.. I am quite sick, could I really come to Taiping now?"
" Of course, you are always invited, take the bus and come" was the answer.
Survival instinct can change us into heros when we are biggest wimps! :) The next day: I packed my bag, I asked how to get to the bus station, I crawled out of the hotel, I stopped the bus, I begged someone to show me the way to the pier, I got on the ferry, I got on the bus, I waited at the station until Y. collected the palest of me & brought 'home' to Taiping.
And then complete strangers took best care of me & brought me food & medicine & kind words just to make sure I would get better.
Sometimes the best things come unplanned, sometimes we think we know all when life surprises us more than we could plan.
Another super-fresh banana strawberry smoothie for a fraction of the price you are used to pay...
Feeding the stray kitten that has clearly not eaten for days & cannot find the food you put right in front of its nose, miaowing desperately & breaking your heart in thousand little pieces...
A walk at 11.37 pm to breathe the most of that luscious warm air, in your sexiest dress, under the moon..
New colour on your toes, the one you would never try in the normal life, oh and the nail art they added as part of the promotion in that little corner beauty place, isn't it cute?
Oh the never-ending simple joys of the traveler...
KL, or for non locals Kuala Lumpur, the mighty capital of Malaysia.
I have nowhere to stay.. It's nearly 11 pm. I have friends here, and we may meet and they are good friends, but I thought I would stay somewhere where in last minute I can't or should not stay, and I do not want to bother my friends, "it's OK, I ll find something for sure, & i can survive, it's KL - come on, so many hostels", I think when in another last minute offer I get into a car of Y.'s daughter who is going to KL too.
But, we get here much later than I thought we would. I bravely decide to skip a tiny quiet not-so-cheap-but-sure-and-sweet hotel in the suburbs and head straight to KL Sentral, one of the main train stations and tourist hubs, renowned for its large choice of fast-food restaurants with not only fast food, but most importantly free toilets, wifi & plugs! Read: backpackers' dream indeed!
The place is nearly empty, the plug is working, the net is quick. Hallelujah!But at 22.47 I still have nowhere to stay, so I google a bit frantically, when suddenly from around the corner a very sweet smile helps me with the chair & my too many pieces of luggage asking " where I am from".
"UK & Poland" in brief i reply, my voice is weak today, I need to save it and first of all get around confirming a more secure place to sleep than KL sentral station bench.
" UK?... so what do you think about Duchess of Cambridge?"
Is it the noise of the station train delay announcement or my utter shock and stupefaction, as royalty probably tops my " the least favourite conversation topics" list, but despite the very clear diction of the smile's owner, I only understand the Cambridge part.
" Oh Cambridge..uhm.... i have never been there.", I mutter.
Same question again, this time announcer lady shuts up, I listen carefully & the question gets to me.
" Well, to be very honest please excuse my language but I could not give a flying toss about her.
Screw the royals. "
A short chit chat ensues. That's how I meet Sam, IMHO the best candidate for yearly award of " The smile of KL". He wants to talk a bit more, but thinking of the voice & my accommodation dilemma I cut him a bit shortly & perhaps impolitely explaining I REALLY can't talk right now. It does not feel right - he is so nice, and despite of the shortness of our meeting, he manages to surprise me & suddenly asks if I speak German & French (to which i reply in German that I do). I order one of the surprisingly long burger list (over 15, all with pictures in the nicely folded menu! impressing right? even in the BURGER King :) & continue googling. They close in 20 minutes & I still do not know where to go.. I really should not talk tonight, but the Smile is all around me, like a ghost of friendliness making sure I am taken care of & protected, so between bites and pages of hostelworld.com, I come up to him, smile as well, and with a speed of light, clarify:
" I m very sorry, I have a sore throat & nowhere to stay tonight , it would be nice to talk, it's just that I can't right now, but thank you for your help & if it's ok I will write about you on my blog."
The smile smiles back, & simply says " Merci" :)
We later talk a bit more, once I secure for myself a place in a very cute hostel right in the centre and for a very reasonable price, after another booked up one offers their lobby couch in the event of me really having absolutely nowhere to go to. Sam finishes Business studies this year, also blogs, & collects coins & banknotes from different countries, so even though I have no Euro on me when he asks if he could buy some, I give him some of the Chinese cash Wang, the film director I worked with over the past few days, 'paid' me in exchange for a white coffee I made for him after a shuttering 12 hour shooting day.
I get in a cab thinking KL welcomed me pretty nicely this time! and I should probably visit BK establishments more often from now on! :)
Thank goodness, DoC never comes to places like that!
I travel, I meet people, yes we both know we don't know what will be...
I could say I have every right to say that I am single...or?
Still not a ready product, still searching,
and anyway this year was meant to be only for me,
so should I stop myself right now? when it's becoming a bit of you?
I travel, I meet faces, I have chats, but..
I just wanted to tell you I think of your eyes,
again and again, in flashes they come to me in the most surprising moments,
and even if it's great here, I cant wait till our first proper walk.
A hostel in KL, finally, 23.45, warm water, clean beds & wifi....
I'm knackered, & looking not so great..or even worse..
...but it's past 11 pm, not many people around, who cares?
I go downstairs with a backpack over one arm, i look at the noticeboard on the wall wiping my tired forehead when suddenly someone appears at the other end of the staircase:
a very handsome guy, who to add salt & sweat to the insult, smells so much nicer than me... :)
" Do you know where I could make myself some tea"? I ask, even though I know very well from the very noticeboard right in front of me the answer to my silly question, but he kind of bumps into me or I into him & i am so tired & my hair is less than perfect so i guess i am supposed to say something right? just to prove i may look shattered but i am not stupid at least, or i am actually proving i am stupid by saying something? oh dear, oh dear, but it s too late & i uttered something already...
The velvet of purest British accent surrounds me in seconds. Even if it is only a few words explaining that, indeed, I can find cups & kettle downstairs.
"Where are you from" I continue, just to be clear, just to be sure, or probably rather just to ...say something again? (man, now i really put my foot in it..)
"UK"
"I said last week I would screw the 1st guy from the UK I meet; man, I miss British accent around me SO much!" - I am too knackered to think what effect my outspokenness may have. And after over three and a half months away from the Great British Isles, I am quite serious about my nostalgia for Britishness.
My interlocutor in a truly British manner replies:
" Well first comes first, you should indeed have your cup of tea now".
He smiles, sincerely, (yes he is a Brit i know, but trust me it was sincere... )
Oh Brits, oh mighty Brits.. how am I missing you sometimes.. :-))
P.S This is the website of the wonderful cute KL hostel where the events described above took place :)
Haiku is a short Japanese poetic form
graspic a tiny part of reality in a minimal limited number of words.
A touch, a breath, a view, short but meaningful...
Sometimes I have a thought, a line, a shred of an idea but not full of a post
and publishing hundreds of post-scriptums may not be elegant, therefore..
I know far too well how I can sometimes be this lost gypsy child who never feels welcome, who never feels belonging, who never feels needed, who never feels she should stay...
You can blame it on the fact that when I was two-months old my mom had to leave me for over two weeks (she got very sick) & in semi-professional psychological terms I have very typical syndromes of a very standard "abandoned child".. Or say that (because the family never has been a family? or without a reason...) I am artistic, sensitive, delicate, blah blah blah whatever, does it matter when you feel it & even the friendliest hug cannot make it stop? and it's like a darkness around you & making you sometimes almost not able to breathe, until you consciously remind yourself you are not a child & you have worked on it & you can handle it in an adult way? Or at least you pretend to yourself you can..?
And then sometimes reality is so bluntly telling you how irrelevant, weak and pathetically simply untrue that darkness is? Because most boring or perhaps menial simple things remind you people do care, and do love, and do worry, and do think about you...
Like Y. calling me twice today to wake me up, like him coming back just to pick me up even if I could as well take a taxi on my own, but because he so simply cares, and likes me, he calls and drives through town again, and it is so simply normal that he offers to help his sleepy friend who got up too late, who was supposed to be ready hours earlier, for whom he had to drive to the hotel for the third time, who can be disorganised, or chaotic at times. Like J. texting me to check how I am, like F. emailing me he misses me too.
There can be more sublime, more distinguished ways of telling you that, candles & cards, yes people give them too, but isn't it sometimes the silly obvious everyday unimportant little things that mean even more?
Someone once said to me: " Humans have always been rubbish at reminding each other of love they feel for one another.. You are loved, needed and appreciated.. The world is a better place with your influence..".
So simple. But how many times you forget it? How many times you refuse to believe it? How many times you cynically fight with it & throw stones at it, & shout at it saying it can never REALLY be true? And you enumerate reasons to prove you are right, even if you would love to just simply sit down, shut up & never question it, ever...
Like the washing liquid D. gave me when I had no more clean t-shirts, like warm chicken soup she made for me when I was so sick, like the wireless password Y. had to check twice but he knew I needed some net so he did check & made sure I had it. The simplest things are not obvious sometimes. And we get lost.
Yes life will bring that darkness back again, yes those same people can later get distracted, forget & hurt you beyond belief, just as you may one day not realise the most irrelevant words you said made someone lose track of all. Yes we humans are masters of love but also masters of forgetting one another and ruining the most delicate fragile purest parts of us & our lives. That darkness can come again, & you will feel so alone, so unimportant, so unnecessary, & you may think of going away & later your friends will so much regret you did, regret they let you go...
And then sometimes we see it all again, and it is all so simple... :)
There should be some starting post full of pathos & importance, right?
A post that explains that I love travel & writing so much, that I missed it so much, but had no net, no laptop, no sleep, no place, no time.. A post that announces with all the glory that, I could not for so long, BUT - even though I know I should never start even half-sentences with a 'but' - I finally start something. There should be some introduction on who I am and what I want, there should be some explanation, some justification,
I suppose...
Or what the hell, without intro i start...
.. because if I think of a perfect intro, I may never let my pen go, i may never let thoughts run, i may never struggle with phrases for hours and sometimes win, I may never....
So Maja, now simply stop reaching for the perfect intro, just LIVE the very imperfect life, write the very imperfect songs, now, before the thoughts, the very imperfect ones, go away, before it's too late & before anything, so imperfect, raw, and innocent, so defenseless, broken & so unimportant, but at least something, disappears & you have not lived it before it went..
Stop reaching for the perfect intro, stop brushing it up & getting lost in the endless imperfect search for the perfect, now.
