Fear.

It's ugly. It can cow us into believing that our dreams have no worth. It's dangerous stuff.

For the last month, I have been cowed. It's not that I don't think that I have the talent. I do. Well, some anyway. But sometimes I get so worried that I won't be able to find a snazzy, well-paying job, once I can actually work legally, that I think, "Oh I had better focus my energy on beefing up skills in a sector that I am dead sick of and am becoming less and less enchanted by everyday." By that I mean, web design.

I was in love with an idea of myself moving back to Paris, getting a design job not unlike the one I did in L.A., being one of those annoying bobo hipsters with her cool job and her cool clothes and blah blah blah. At first, it wasn't even design. I wanted to work at my friend's creative consulting and translating firm. She made it clear, finally, that she wouldn't hire me. That was a big let-down. I had pinned so many of my dreams, so much of myself on that job. When I didn't have that anymore, I was sure that I should go roaring back into the design world. I'd go freelance. Well, since January, every project I have worked on has gone belly-up for one reason or another. Meanwhile, every time I work on music and put it out there into the world, I get a lot of love. Why do I repeatedly refuse to listen to what the universe is telling me?

Fear.

Plain and simple.

This weekend, my fiancé was on eBay and he found a Squier (Fender P-Bass design) for a pittance. If the bidding stays that way, I may end up with it. And I certainly wouldn't grumble even if it does have a c-style neck (*grumble*). The more I have thought about having a bass again, the more I feel a circle completing. I love to write songs, and I love to play guitar and ukulele and just about any string instrument you throw at me. But I am a bassist first. I will always be a bassist first. The fear is subsiding as I realize I can sit in with people, I can do sessions again. I know it's not the best bass on earth. But it's a functional bass. I'd love to have one of John Entwistle's old sunburst p-basses or one of his lovely salmon pink ones, or even my old pre-CBS, solid body, delicious sunburst p-bass (which now lives in my brother's recording studio), I hunger after a real Fender P-bass. In due time, in due time. For now, all I need is something functional, one that's cheap enough that, if it gets stolen, I won't cry my eyes out..much. I have become completely smitten by the idea of having a bass again, playing again, joining together with the band.

I remember when I found out John Entwistle had died, my hands CRAVED a bass. Besides tears, my first response was to find one and play the hell out of it. I need one again. Badly.

I am making a commitment to my music. A re-commitment. It isn't an easy path. There is no garuntee that anything will grow from it other than my own personal happiness and satisfaction. But that's a start! I can't keep ignoring what I have seen to be true in my life. Music is my calling. It always has been. Not stardom, fame or money necessarily, but music. When I make music, I am happier and life goes well by and large. When I don't, I am miserable and everything falls to shit.

Which would you choose?

Basic Demo = Done.

I woke up the other morning with a lighter attitude toward the demo. I was insisting on having every song I wanted to put on an eventual album done on the demo. Big time denial of my musical reality. One of the songs requires a bunch of instruments I don't have, and, at this time, would be impossible for me to play live by myself. A big purpose of this demo is to get it into the hands of gig bookers and club/cafe/bar owners to give them a taste of what it is I do. Why put songs I cannot play live by myself on a demo to get gigs where I would be solo? I realized that if I held onto the idea of insisting on putting these two songs on the demo, I would never finish the demo. They were obstacles in this stage of the game. These two other songs are not forgotten and will go an eventual CD when I have more musical contacts and more money to record in a proper studio setting. So I finished up the last two tracks for a total of 12 numbers. 8 in French, 2 in English, and 2 in...strumentals. These need some polishing, a few aren't even finished, but as I listened to these 12 tracks on my iTunes, it all flowed just fine. Much better than I could have imagined.

My current houseguest has a law degree (totally forgot she had it), and she gave me some tips on copyright and Creative Commons and all that jazz, so as soon as I feel better about these recordings, I may put a few up on the Virb page for people to check out. She's a very good cheerleader, and, though I am very lucky to have a few great cheerleaders near and far, it never hurts to have more. Ego and fear being what they are.

One more session to go.

One more recording session and the very, very basic demos for my CD, Migration, will be finished. I need to re-record some bits that were less than spectacular, plus one more instrumental. Then comes the fleshing out. Some songs need more verses or a bridge or a solo. One needs to be rethought entirely, which is a little daunting. After I figure out which end is up, I will have to re-record everything while hoping that I don't get stuck in a loop. Once I have a demo I can live with, and maybe even be a little proud about, I'll start working up a live set so I can hit a stage if someone says yes to me.

An old friend is starting a new club in the 5th arrondissement in August, she says. So I have to be ready when I approach her about getting a weekly gig.

What's hard.

*Getting out of my own way.
*Believing that my music can be my career.
*Letting go of all the other crap I use to run away from my music.
*Believing anyone when they tell me I'm beautiful.
*Not trying to do every single thing every day all the time.
*Watching my sweet Wonder Corgi get old.
*Drinking enough water.
*Leaving the dishes in the sink.
*Not comparing myself to other people (I'm older than the Beatles were when they broke up! What have I done?)
*Believing I have inherent self-worth even when I don't get anything done.
*Being compassionate toward myself, and, therefore, truly compassionate toward others.
*Promoting my music and myself.
*Not looking for the net before I leap.

Blog Addict.

Actually not so much. But I do read a handful from time to time, and one of my favorites is at In The Attic, Rachel Fuller's contribution to the blogosphere.

One of the reasons I read it is that it's funny. Rachel is hilarious. I also read it because it's real, she doesn't hide herself much at all. She admits to being a TV junkie, to having self-esteem and self-image issues but without being maudlin about it, we're around the same age, and both musicians with muso backgrounds trying to make our way in the world of popular music. True, there are as many differences as similarities. My boyfriend isn't a rock icon. Nico and I are not wealthy. I cannot relate to some of her shopping posts because I have never been able to indulge in such things. But I don't slight her for it. She's being herself, and it's delightful.

She is really inspiring as an artist as well because she's so welcoming and nurturing to other musicians. No back-stabbing, no diva snottiness is to be found on her blog, but she's not above taking the piss and, frankly, some people need that to reconnect with their humility. Apparently, she's going to be getting a little place in Paris, I hope it isn't too forward or weird to hope that we might meet up for a chat about music one day. Odds are a gazillion to zero, but I'd love that.

One of her recent posts concerns body-image stuff, size zero and all that crap. I admit that I have problems myself in that department. I am stunned that someone much more visible than myself can be so open about them. It's inspiring. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I wonder will I ever be accepted just for my music and talent alone? Or will my other "merits" or lack thereof always stand in the way? I think of other women musicians/songwriters like Joni Mitchell, Amiee Mann, Lucinda Williams, I notice that they aren't objectified...Chrissie Hynde, there's another. I know it's possible. It's just so easy to get caught up in the bullshit. So much now is about how you look. Not so much the clothes (wasn't it always a little bit about the clothes?), but, for women, this obstacle goes underneath the clothes to the body. No matter what our brains and hearts create, no matter how well we sing, sometimes it's all about the measurements. Compare even some serious rock journalism articles one day. Read some about men and some about women. The ones about men don't focus much on what the person is wearing or what they look like, at least not these days. But the ones about women almost always include what she wore to the interview, whether or not she's lost or gained weight, as if that has the slightest thing to do with how a person writes or performs a song! This crap can keep talented women from opening up and doing what they love. It's sick.

I usually don't let it interfere with my music, though. Because it has nothing to do with it. It's when i think about performing that it bugs me. But when I was the cellist, the bassist, and not the front person, I didn't care. What is it about also being the singer that brings in the body-issue element? Why do I buy into this bullshit?

Feh.

Why is it so hard for me to do two, three, four or five things at once these days? Multi-tasking was once my fortissimo forte, I was really proud about my ability to seem like I had a few extra pairs of arms. These days, I feel completely fucking useless.

I am finishing up A Tribe Called Request -- two more songs to go, some Kinks and a tune from Pet Sounds. It's been really fun working on so many different types of songs, each one has been a challenge. I moved the recording set-up from the livingroom to the bedroom. Experimenting. Turns out, for some songs, the bedroom is too dead. So now I'm back out in the livingroom. More light, more room for air, less cramped -- much better for my back, too. I still have such a long way to go before I get a really decent sound. Sometimes, I hit it, but most times, not. Some days I have drive, sometimes I have no patience whatsoever. Those are the days to do something else. Knit or play Tiger Woods PGA Tour 07, read, draw. Anything but record, frankly. I have learned that patience is mandatory when recording. Without it, it's just torture for you and anyone else nearby. It was easy when all I had to do was sit at the board or play/sing. Doing both can be really aggravating sometimes.

Between working on those songs, I have been trying to work on my own demo for my CD, Migration. But I can't seem to get anywhere with my own music. Most sessions end in total frustration and wondering why I ever thought any of my songs were worth two shits. My finacé is wonderful during these ego crises. Lots of hugs. Lots of "Well, I like them" and "They get stuck in my head all the time!" Which is lovely to hear, but the artist in me isn't only satisfied by the approbation of others. Most of the time, I think, "Well, that's nice of you. Thanks. But it doesn't fit/work/express what I meant to express..." Some of my songs are good, and I like them. Those are in French. Any song I write in English, however, usually gets guillotined. I am never happy with them no matter what I do to change them. I have decided that I am going to wrap up the one project and then move to the next. I guess that's just how I operate.

Chester gets wheels.

So yes, there are more songs at my virb page. I've been knocked out of the top ten after reaching #7. That was fun while it lasted! I got knocked out by Elliott Smith's page posting a second posthumous album. At first I was really concerned that the proceeds were going to someone who didn't really need them, someone capitalizing on his death. Turns out it all goes to a good cause, Outside In, I think it's called, an organization that tries to help the homeless in Portland, Oregon. So that's good.

I was really quite surprised that I ever got on Virb's chart and radar at all with my dinky little recordings. It was unexpected and a lovely little ego boost.

For the last two weeks, I have been having huge epiphanies left and right, memories have been resurfacing, etc. I have needed to take some time to be. I've been knitting, reading, sleeping, playing video games with my fiancé. There is some sort of energy block in me manifesting itself in about a hundred different ways, some obvious and some not. Yesterday the lesson (re)learned was not to force things. I was trying to record and everything was going wrong. I couldn't bounce down tracks (stupid computer!, I kept saying when in reality I wasn't thinking or seeing clearly due to sleep deprivation), I couldn't get the sound I wanted no matter how hard I tried. It was so frustrating. I recorded and re-recorded. Over and over. Nothing worked. A gentle voice in my mind said, "Stop forcing this" and I finally had the humility to listen to it.

Been sort of floating for the last two weeks, and sometimes a person needs to do that. Have been a little down. We ordered my dog's wheelchair. That makes me happy, but his diagnosis doesn't. He's got Degenerative Myelopathy. He has about another year to go before his back legs are both totally paralysed if typical progress of DM is to be believed so maybe another 2 years in total. Chester the Wonder Corgi is my first dog. And he truly is an amazing dog, but being a dog won't live as long as a human might, obviously. At first, it was easy to be in denial about that. Besides, why fixate? These last two weeks, I have had to make peace with watching him slowly lose the ability to move and knowing with a near certainty that he has about two years left, given how quickly the disease is moving. As long as he is not suffering and is still really interested in his food, playing with his toys, "chasing" pigeons, I refuse to put him down. Lots of people who see him when we take him outside heartlessly and thoughtlessly tell us to do just that (Welcome to France, euthanasia capital of the world!), and I would , if he were unhealthy in any other way or if he were suffering to the point of not sleeping, not eating, etc. But he still has that sweet Corgi smile for everyone he meets, he's still very aware of everything, he's still very vocal. I really think that these wheels are going to mean a new life for him, and his last years will be happier ones. These last two weeks, I have been making peace with the fact that in about two years (please give me more!), I will have to put him down. He will let me know when it's time, or it will be completely obvious. I won't be sick about it, searching for clues and signs every single second. Still...facing the reality of it now is better than skipping along in denial.

The vets here have been totally against wheelchairs saying that they've never seen a happy dog in a wheelchair. Any nasty behavior from them and not only can they squat down and pucker up to kiss my ass, but they can also explain themselves to the Board of Veterinary Medicine. They are lying right through their teeth, of course. There are clips all over the internet of dogs running and playing in their wheelchairs, some partially paralysed, some totally. None of them seem to care that they are in wheelchairs. Like most dogs, they want their owners to be happy. As long as they aren't kicked out of the pack, they're quite content. The French have a strange attitude toward the handicapped in general. The mind boggles that both sign language and Braille were invented by Frenchmen, that there was a time when this country was at the forefront of enlightened treatment for the handicapped. Well, that time is over, apparently. For humans and other animals. Chester's wheelchair will also be a means to communicate and teach people here that there are options to euthanasia. I've been warned by the lovely people at Eddie's Wheels that I will get one of two reactions: people will either think it's the cutest thing that they've ever seen and be happy for him (that will include us and everyone who lives in the apartment building with us), or they will still be hell-bent on heartlessness and tell us to kill him. But there are assholes everywhere on this planet, and there will be until this planet is finally done with our nonsense.

Meanwhile, my dog gets his mobility back, and we get to go on nice long walks again. Plus I get to make up songs about him and wheels. I always sing songs about Chester to Chester. He loves it. So he'll get new ones - and "wheels" "chair" and "cart" open up new possibilities for rhymes, so that will be nice, too!