"You May Say I'm a Delusional Dreamer"

   

  "That dream never lies to me; in fact, it is always reminding me just how unattainable it is. And even if I beat the odds and found my way to this dream, it reminds me what I might have to sacrifice just to be in its presence. Sometimes you just need the dream to shut up and lie to you so you can feel better about all the time you've spent and will continue to spend trying to catch it against all better judgement." 

~Lindsay White, Singer/Songwriter, San Diego~

      After reading Lindsay White's post on Facebook about the ever elusive dream we all chase, and the frustration it causes her (and all of us fellow artists), I knew what I needed to write about in this blog.  I share her pain, as I'm sure many of us do.  We all pursue our own dream, whether it's in the arts or a business career or finding the perfect mate or having children and living happily ever after.  For most of us, I feel like we're always taking steps towards this dream, expecting something magical to happen, then facing disappointment when nothing really happens.  Or, as Lindsay points out, if something does happen, our life may be altered so much that we wonder if we should be careful what we wish for.  
     I have been living my life like this since I was 12 years old.  In the sixth grade I decided I wanted to be an actress and wrote my "role model" report on Jodie Foster. Then, in eighth grade I fell in love with Olivia Newton John's performance in Grease (don't laugh, she was the Taylor Swift of my generation), and knew I wanted to be an actress AND a singer.  Much to the dismay of my parents I pursued this dream relentlessly, ignoring the fact that with my excellent grades and diligent work habits I could've been anything-a doctor, lawyer, scientist, accountant, maybe even the first female President (well, that may be pushing it a bit).  I had no interest in a business or computer science degree, instead I took a hodgepodge assortment of liberal arts classes at CU-acting, voice, dance, philosophy, anthropology, and enough psychology classes to finally declare that as my major, with theater arts as a minor.  Not a practical route, although at the time I thought psychology could be my back up plan if the acting didn't work out. Never did I think, not even for a minute, that it wouldn't happen. I was just trying to appease my parents. (Note to self, psychology is not the best back up plan, nor does it appease anyone).   My dream had been to go to UCLA, and even though I was accepted, we (my parents) decided it was too expensive and I should stay in state.  If I had to do it all over again, or if I were to give advice to any young aspiring artists out there, I would say this: if you want a career in the arts GO to an arts school-Juilliard, Berklee, UCLA, any of the fantastic acting or music conservatories in this country-do whatever it takes to make that happen. Surround yourself with people aspiring towards the same dreams.  And, have a practical back up plan, like teaching or business school or web design. My 18 year old self just went the easier route, but I truly believe if I'd been surrounded by music and theater and a better support system, I may have been more successful. As it was, I did the best I could to steer myself in the Hollywood direction.  I talked my Stepdad into paying for acting classes at a local talent agency, learning as much about the entertainment industry as I could, and shortly after graduation I moved to California.  I waitressed and bartended and saved every extra penny I could to put towards acting classes, voice lessons, and headshots (lord, those ridiculous headshots, if I had just a small percentage of that money back I could buy a house). Then there were demo reels and recordings, tap and jazz and guitar and dialect courses, the list of money down the drain goes on and on. I got myself an agent, not a very good one, but an agent nonetheless, and started the audition circus.  Here's the thing, you have to work nights so you can go to auditions, but then sometimes you get a part in a play or a band and have to switch your schedule to days. Thus the restaurant business really provided the most flexible hours, although according to most people it is not a "real" job.  And oh the stupid auditions I went on, from silly local commercials or bit parts in movies that never amounted to anything-or if I did get a line or 2 my part was always cut come release time. Do anything, my agent would say, no part is too small, take any role for "exposure". So I did, to no avail. One night in the mid-nineties I was on a film set in North LA until 4 am, and had to be at another audition in West Covina at 10am. 27 year old me drove the hour plus to West Covina and slept in my car until audition time. I actually got a call back for that part, then when I went to the callback they couldn't find my name on the list!  So typical. I did an episode of Melrose Place for a whopping $40, hoping I would get my SAG card. Turned out it was a non-union day, whatever that meant (guess it meant I didn't get my union card).  Hours and hours on movie and TV sets, just to have my profile or hair or hand in a brief shot. I often wonder how weekly TV shows get made, when it takes 12 hours just to light one scene. 
     So, that was life in my twenties, working just enough to pay my rent, auditioning, nightly acting classes, bit parts, chorus roles in musical theatre, and singing with some lousy bands. The irony to all of this was if I did get offered anything good, like touring with a band for awhile, I couldn't take it because I couldn't afford to quit my job. It's quite a conundrum, if you quit your day job for a six week or six month long contract, you don't know if the "not-real" job will be there again when you need it.  By the age of 30, I'd grown weary of this nonsense and knew that unless I made some kind of fabulous connection or got really, really lucky, I wasn't going to make it in Hollywood. So, I focused on music.  This would've been a good point to re-evaluate and perhaps go back to school, but I wasn't ready to give up yet. So I moved to Las Vegas with a silly little demo tape of pop songs and tried to make it big in the casino band scene. Turns out it was pretty much the same story, the good bands already had a singer, the ok bands booked awful gigs in smoke filled dive bars and off-strip casinos. And again I had to turn down some good offers because I'd started working nights (money was better), so I wasn't available and was too afraid to give up my bread and butter. Sadly, most of my singing consisted of torturing my friends and family with karaoke, voice recitals, and choir concerts.  Finally though, I got a pretty good offer singing and dancing at the new Studio 54 at the MGM.  My Mom was so excited she sent me a congratulations card.  Turns out I was nothing more than a glorified go-go dancer, wearing a sequined bra and hot pants, dancing on speakers and lip-singing to old Donna Summer tunes. I hated it and asked for a transfer, and once again found myself bartending for a living. Driving down the strip one day to work I burst into tears, 34 and I was no closer to my dream than I was at 22.  I immediately gave my notice, and a month later moved back home to Denver to re-evaluate. (This seems to be a common pattern in this life of mine. ) Ironically, moving back to Denver turned out to be a surprisingly positive choice. I was working for my Dad at the family restaurant, met some of the musicians he had playing on Saturday nights, and pretty soon I was singing on a regular basis. I also started competing in some country music competitions and won myself a trophy or 2.  Woohoo! Still, I was in my late 30s and starting to feel a little old for this game.  I was no closer to the dream, despite some of the things I'd achieved. By this point I'd built up a pretty strong resume and had gained a lot of confidence, but nothing had "happened".  I'm not sure what was supposed to happen exactly-maybe making a living at performing, or getting past more than 2 rounds in the Nashville Star competition, or maybe being "discovered"? Ha. Just as I was about to throw in the towel I met my future ex-husband, and I started on an entirely different musical journey. Writing. Together he and I started writing songs and performing as a duo, sometimes with a band, and it was with original music that I found my voice. We wrote and recorded enough music to put together two CDs, and then I took it upon myself to learn as much as I could about the business side of music. My dream shifted from being a pop star to writing songs for pop stars.  Turns out it was pretty much the same futile chase. Playing open mics and showcases for no money (again-exposure), sometimes even paying to play, or having to sell enough tickets to pay the venue, and then struggling to get enough middle aged friends out to fill said venue. Trying to get our songs to music publishers and supervisors was impossible, as most of them won't take anything that's unsolicited, or if they do they also take most of your money. We moved back to Southern California hoping to have a little more success, but I found myself back in the same cycle I'd spun around in my younger days. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all for naught. With the internet and latest technology on our side, we were able to get songs on Itunes and Spotify, and some obscure satellite station started playing a few of my tunes at local malls and coffee shops. In one incredible moment of validation (which is all we artists ever pray for), my Mom was shopping at JC Penney one afternoon and heard my song on their satellite radio. "That's my daughter singing!", she proudly proclaimed to the cashier. "Oh how old is your daughter?", asks polite cashier. Mom: "She's 44!" (18 year old cashier not impressed).  However, another young lady working at JCP liked one of my songs, googled it, which led her to my Facebook page, and she became my first official fan.  
     So yes, despite all the hardships of living the Artist's life, there are some magical moments that make it all worthwhile. The unexpected fan, the people you unknowingly touch with your creativity, the thrill of being on stage-especially opening night of a musical (nothing like it), the amazing lifelong friends and connections you make along the way, the minuscule checks from ASCAP that come in every so often, the proud look on my Dad's face when I'm singing, hearing my music on an Indie radio show, and the accomplishment I feel when I play my CDs-at least I have somewhat of a legacy to leave behind. (Lord knows I'll never have enough money to do another one! ). As "they" say: the success is in the journey, not the destination. Or according to Miley Cyrus, it's "All About the Climb". When I wake up every morning full of regrets and longing and wondering when that "something" is going to happen, I have to remind myself that things are happening every minute of every day. I won't lie, sure I'd love to be rich and famous, but who knows if that would make any of us any happier. I might not have the fantastic friends I have now, I certainly wouldn't have the cherished time with my family, and I may have married some dirt bag who cheated on me with another star. Who knows, I may have even lived a life in rehab.  On the other hand, if I'd had a different dream, a more attainable one, like becoming a kindergarten teacher or a physical therapist, life may have been a lot easier. I would hopefully have children and money and consistency and a sane mind.  Then again, maybe not. All I know is I would not be who I am now. And as crazy as this life can be,  it defines me. As hard as I try to want something else, something easier, I cannot change who I am and what I want.  People like to encourage me by saying: "At least you pursued your dreams, some of us never take that chance." I suppose that should  make me feel better, but remember that Mean Mind of Mine I wrote about in my last blog? That Mean Mind says: you should've tried even harder, you should've done this or that differently, you aren't good or pretty or young enough. That Mean Mind looks back on choices I made and makes them wrong. That Mean Mind gives me no solace. Why was I given this desire and not the tenacity it takes to make it happen? Perhaps it is this tortured mindset that makes me, and other artists, the creative creatures we are. If we were all happy and complacent beings, there would be no songs that touch our souls, no movies that bring tears to our eyes, no paintings that bring wonder to our hearts. I wrote a line in a song called "Proximity" years ago about my aching desire:  "I cried, something's missing deep inside...... we all feel that way, it keeps us striving".  So we strive away, and the magic that comes from this striving creates unforgettable books and poems and songs and works of art. It creates magnificent structures and technology and medicine and amazing inventions. It creates successful, rich, famous human beings, and it also creates beautiful unknown souls. The beautiful unknowns are the people I wouldn't know if it weren't for this journey. I wouldn't be blessed with some of the irreplaceable artistic friends I have. I wouldn't have written any songs if it weren't for the musicians who inspired and collaborated with me. I would never have met my boyfriend, the love of my life, if I hadn't stopped at a coffee shop to listen to him playing with his gypsy jazz band.   Still,  I am a bit pessimistic these days when I see all the quotes on Facebook telling us to pursue our dreams no matter what, that we are never too old for our dreams to come true, blah blah blah.  I gave up everything for my dream and I'm not sure if it will ever come true. On the other hand, maybe a different dream came true.  A better dream, one I never imagined. The dream where love and adventure and friendships are the most important blessings of all....
Oh who am I kidding? I'm going to keep holding out for the dream I want!