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...
