RUN FROM YOUR LIFE!!

Nope. I'm not English impaired. I don't mean "run FOR your life," I mean what I say - RUN FROM YOUR LIFE!!

If you're one of the fortunate ones who looks around your life and has a more or less stable family and good friends and a job you don't absolutely loathe, this blog isn't for you. If you're one of the truly fortunate ones who grew up in a loving, stable home where your hopes and dreams were supported and there was an even handed approach to your parents' parenting and you now love your life, married your best friend, have a job you look forward to, then this blog will probably make you mad at me and prompt you to leave me comments like, "Life is what you make it" or "why so negative?" I don't even want to hear from you types cuz you don't get it and you never will. Go be wonderfully sane somewhere else.

No. This blog post is for those of you who look around your lives and wonder - how the fuck did I get here? This is not what I wanted. Now what do I do?

I'm no guru. I don't have answers. I'm just giving my opinions on this unpredictably snowy morning. I woke up with a brilliant epiphany today. I have spent the past several years watching other people have temper tantrums that last one, two years. They do whatever they want. They run from relationships, run into bad ones, leave them, yank everyone around and they seem fine. As a matter of fact - they don't see the blood shed around them. Those people dare to get angry when you finally put your foot down and tell them you've had enough. Those truly clueless people fall into another entirely different category - they're the blameless!! Yes, the clueless blameless! They're like idiot savants, only much less attractive.

However, I think I've learned something from this behavior. I've concluded that if more of us who are sick of our relatives or tired of being stepped on or hate our jobs, just walked out and went on our merry ways, we might all be happier. How many times haven't you felt like irresponsibly chucking it all and skipping out of town? If you've read this far, I'll guess 100s, if not 1000s of times. But most of us are too responsible to actually do that. After all, people are counting on us. But see... that's just it. This morning I woke up and took stock. Who exactly are these people counting on me? In what way am I keeping myself from doing things I'd like to do because I'm so concerned about what other people need from me? So it occurred to me. I need to run from my life.

They say the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results. Well, if you apply that to the way your live or the way you approach your relationships, it should also apply, right? So, let's say you're a mother who keeps loaning her irresponsible son money each time he bangs up his car, loses his glasses, breaks someone's window, etc. Each time he smiles his huge smile and says, "wow Mom, thanks for getting me outta that one... you're the best!" You lecture him a few minutes, he nods, pays back $20 of the loan and then the cycle repeats. Eventually, you are LIVID with him. Loathing your own son but feeling guilty that you loathe him. Feeling that mothers shouldn't feel this way towards their sons. So you bottle it up and keep doling out the cash. Your son has figured this out and keeps behaving the same way, lecture or not. You know what that mom needs to do?

RUN FROM HER LIFE!!

Either literally or figuratively, she needs to get out. Because out is the only way to break this cycle. She either needs to find a way to stop loaning him the money and stop the empty lectures or quite literally - move out. Not take him with her and let him learn the hard way. Because if she's truly miserable, continuing this behavior will not result in happiness.

And that's what I'm talking about. Psychologists would take weeks, months, years, to get someone to understand why she's allowing herself to be a doormat. Why she can't seem to draw boundaries. Then she'd have to learn to undo all those years of bullshit. I say, take a short cut.

RUN FROM YOUR LIFE.

Just don't be there. If you're not there, they can't come to you. They can't abuse your good faith. No need to feel guilty. Just go somewhere else for a while. Reset. Regroup. Relearn who you are and just what got you to this state. And then maybe you can start over. Or maybe you'll get enough distance between you and your life so you can view it like an outsider and return to it with a clearer view of things.

I know this is all terribly impractical advice for most people. But if I can figure out how to do it, I'm considering taking this advice and trying it on for size. If I do, I'll blog again from some undisclosed location.

Insomniac Thoughts

I have crappy insomnia. It is 6:25 am and I've been up since 2:30am. I went to bed at 11pm exhausted after a stressful day. I must say, though, that I put my insomnia to good use. I got a bunch of things done and sent out emails and cleaned my downstairs bathroom which REALLY needed it. So... that's something, I guess.

I have too much on my mind. There's the obvious stuff. Dad and insurance and money and papers to be signed and mom and her results on Thursday and my sister giving birth soon and feeling torn about not being able to be at her side... that there is already plenty, I think. But for some reason, the thing that seems to be lingering in my brain this morning is how I feel about singing. I haven't sung very much in the 2 months that dad's been ill but I practiced a bit Monday so I wouldn't be totally unprepared for chorus Monday night and I am just having some strange feelings about singing. On the one hand I was pleasantly surprised that despite barely singing, my voice is feeling pretty good and sounding pretty decent. I feel that if I really wanted to, I could pull myself together and do some good singing within a short amount of time.

But do I really want to? That's the problem I'm grappling with. I don't feel compelled to sing anymore. Here I am finishing up a degree in music with the consideration of moving forward to a pedagogy degree. The other night my friend introduced me to someone and added, "she's an opera singer". The woman asked where I was singing and I answered "presently, nowhere." I'm an opera singer who's not singing. What's worse, I'm an opera singer who doesn't particular feel like singing. I mean, I do and I don't. I still work on my voice when I can (which lately has been almost never, but these are not normal circumstances). I still like my voice and like what I'm capable of doing with it and the responses I can elicit with it. I still fantasize about doing a great big fun role with orchestra and lately, I've been thinking it might be a good idea to record some songs and arias for posterity. So if I do decide to call it quits I can have something to point to and say, "I used to sing like this."

But I don't get a true charge out of it anymore. I still enjoy teaching very much but I'm just not sure that I want to do that on an ongoing basis as a means to a paycheck. It's as if everything I ever thought I knew about myself has been turned on its ear in the past couple of years. This has been coming slowly for the past few years, I think. But now I'm really feeling it. Now I really have this feeling that maybe my lifelong goal is ready to take a comfortable backseat to some new goals. I think I'll still sing on some level or another. And I entertain the fantasy that maybe I'll even get a nice juicy role to sing once or twice more before I really call it quits. But I think I am feeling an internal tug to move into completely new territory.

It goes back to that feeling of being "charged". My life isn't making me feel anything but studying psychology fills me with a new buzz I haven't felt in a long time. Buzz. I am trying to figure out what feels warm and inviting and what doesn't. I spent years chasing down the singing career but it never really felt warm and inviting. It felt a little chilling and threatening most of the time. And I spent most of my time feeling like I was slaying a dragon. I think I'd like not to do that anymore. I want to wrap the coming years of my life in a warm, comfortable, sometimes exilirating, blanket of new-lease-on-life. I want to walk towards the things that resonate in me. And since I've started taking psych courses I'm feeling something like new possibilities.

I've just signed up for neuropsychology over the summer. I'm not even sure what that is exactly. But I'm psyched cuz I am very excited to learn about the brain's connection to our emotions, memories, learning, behavior, habits, speech, etc... I find that stuff fascinating. And, in light of what's going on with dad, I think it will be helpful for me. At least that's my hope. I don't know... I'm letting myself get pulled by the warm wave. I think it's time.

I Refute Thee

Death & Me

I've shunned Death;
cold shoulder and all.
He stomped his foot before
me but I just wandered by.
He tried to distract me
while he took a man & child
but wise to him I held my gaze away.

Death then took a biker &
a couple Christmas eve.
My icy heart stole itself
against his disease.
Shudder he did,
as I sealed my focus deep.
Which Death took as an insult
as he closed in on me.

With force & in emnity
Has he down the gauntlet thrown;
a formidable threat from that mephitic foe.
My sweet father has uptaken it -
They are dueling as I sit
refusing Death's morbid show,

"Death.
You can force me to look upon you
the day you come for me. But
My father is a strong opponent
and his Father is with him."

Dad.

My dad is dying. Even if he survives this, I was just in his room and something's changed. Some of the fight is leaving him. I could feel that something was different today than yesterday. I'm so afraid that even if he makes it out of this he will be soul crushingly changed. Then what? How are we to do this? I already miss the him I knew my whole life and this man in the bed with the tubes in him seems like a shell of my former dad. I can't think, I can't speak. I can't have “deep thoughts”. I just can't right now.

Congratulations, US Airways Flight 1549!

I'm watching the news about this plane which just went down in the Hudson. They're going on and on about procedures, and "what happened?" and "were there geese involved"? Why did he land in the Hudson? Why didn't he go on to Neward? Yada yada... I say throw a party!! Everyone is alive!! A plane actually had a successful "water landing and people are walking off!! Yay!!

They just showed one of the women getting off. She is wet and cold and wearing an uncomfortable yellow life vest. But, by God, she's smiling! Cuz no one who's ever heard the words "water landing" without thinking "kick your ass goodbye". These people probably thought that on the way down and they are just thrilled that they are walking away a little wet and cold. Some of them may catch pneumonia and need antibiotics. Wow... that's some amazing good luck. And I now feel a tiny bit better about the phrase "water landing".

Sufi Cab Driver

I took a cab ride with the loveliest, shining Indian man yesterday. We had the most enlightened conversation. I felt he must be a shaman or Hindu god sent here to deliver his wisdom from ca ride to cab ride. We talked about people of the world needing to be more respectful & accepting of each other. We talked about a need to communicate in a tolerant and open way. We discussed Obama. He said that there is hope there because Obama is a man who is open to communicating with those who do not share his views and finding compromises. This is how the world needs to begin to behave if we are to heal ourselves. He said something that's so in line with my recent phenomenological studies that I was taken by surprise-could he be reading my life from my face? He said that we all walk around speaking lies to the outside world, and in doing so we lie to ourselves. He said the truth, which is within us, finds a way to show itself anyway . He said the world would be a better place if more of us spoke truth. Honesty. Not an insistence that others see your point of view or an argumentative stance. But a calm exchange of ideas. Say your mind, speak your heart. If you are a bit racist against someone, don't necessarily pretend that you are. But wouldn't it be a better world if someone could openly say, “I have a problem with Jews” thus allowing the non-racist ideas to be presented? It might not change the way that person feels but having spoken his truth, his particularly honesty, without venom, would allow other truths to enter his soul. So long as he or she is guarding that truth behind a mask of lies, then there is no hope of opening a dialogue that might cause a change of heart. I loved having this conversation because since taking a class in phenomenological psychology, I have come to realize I've always felt this way. People shy away from difficult conversations. They are afraid of the anger and hurt that might be caused by speaking their mind. We have been taught to suppress so much. And yet, it is like my cabbie friend said, “the truth is inside of you and will show itself even if you try to present a lie to the outside world.” We've all experienced the person who says, “Oh yes, I like this very much” but meanwhile their face is all shrivelled up in a look of disgust. The truth is there beyond the words. It would just be easier if we could respectfully say what we are thinking and learn to keep boundaries to allow each other to be real. More would be accomplished, I believe.

He then told me a wonderful story. It was the only time during our talk that the NY skeptic in me thought he might be telling tales. But no matter. There is such beauty in his tale so I will retell it as he told me.

A few years ago he had a small convenience store. A guy walks in, slams a bottle of beer on the counter and follows it with and throws a dollar on the counter. My cabbie says, “that's $2.50”. The guy menacingly growls, “I onlyhave the dollar.” My friend (I regret I didn't get his name and couldn't see his license plaque from where I sat) says, “Then get a smaller bottle. There are some small ones there for a dollar.” The guy pulls a gun on him and points it at him. Now my new friend says the following, “My friend, if you're going to shoot me, shoot. I hope you've thought this through. I hope you've considered what this all means. I cannot change what is about to happen. Does that bullet have my name on it? Because if it does, then there is nothing I can say right now to change what you're about to do. Does that bullet have my name on it? If it does, then go ahead. I cannot change it. Is this how you would like to live the rest of your life?” The guy was apparently taken aback by this and looked quizzically at the store owner and then laughed, put the gun down, shook his hand and took his dollar and left.” I'm not sure at this point if the cabbie was making things up but his tone of voice and our previous conversation leads me to think he probably wasn't. Perhaps his words had a powerful effect on this would-be-robber. Perhaps he'd gained his respect by not fearing him. And maybe also, he got incredibly lucky. But I think the robber had never seen such light and decided not to snuff it. I believe he was practicing what we were just discussing - the power of speaking your truth and hoping to reach that spot in another person where their truth also lives. I was very touched by it.

I had asked that he drop me off at Memorial Sloan Kettering. As I'm getting out of the cab he asked, “who are you seeing here?” I answered, “my mom”. He said, “I will put her in my prayers.” I felt so good. I thanked him and wished him many blessings. There was something very special about him and I walked away so happy that this sweet soul would be praying for the health of my mother.

Kaleidoscope

We are God’s kaleidoscope.
Super nova twists and trines;
Eerie spots of rich design
For the drinking of his awesome eye.

We are God’s day time TV show.
Mindless twitter as he forms orbs;
His anthill, his pigeons, his busy little bees.
A distraction we make for the corner of his glee.

We are God’s late night movie.
When he’s bored with truthful work;
The squabbles, feeble struggles, silly conquests, stupid wars.
He falls asleep, it’s such a bore.

We are in God’s kaleidoscope.
Blue-green marble in the sky;
Floating closer to his eye.
Spinning, grinning – we are prized.

Trilogia

te veo pero no te siento - menos que una sombra menos que un lamento un nada vacio como el fin del universo mas allá de la luna. no me extraña tu mirada pero si me extraña un poco la falta de quererte.	Trilogía Por Celia Castro Oct. 17, 2008
	siento un latido un genuino lucero crecido; una batida que al comienzo burbuja pero al fin se queda silenciada. que febríl y aun refinada son las tantas explosivas pequeñas de sabor a ti
he soñada que te vi e inanimada como una estatua sonreí pero solo para ver quién de los dos era humano o cual de los dos éramos echo de mármol. entonces giraste en un pie hacia la carretera y yo - asombrada y atontada me di de cuenta que era yo la que servía de plataforma para los pájaros. y así, dentro de mi armadura se me rompió el corazón. porque te fuiste sin reconocerme.

Truthfulness and disclosure

You know? I think I freak out my friends. I don't mean to. Most of the time I'm a lot of fun, tell loads of jokes, am very silly, etc. But then, when I get in my crap moods and feel insecure and overwhelmed I think it's okay to voice my inner turpitude to my friends. But what I find is they get skiddish. They kind of go away and become unresponsive. I don't know if it's more like, "I can't deal with her" or if it's more like, "she's crazy" or if it's more like, "I don't know what to say to her when she's like this." Whatever it is, it makes me feel like a freak.

Am I the only one who tends to go on rants when something is on my mind? Is it really only a friendship if all you do is pretend to be happy even when you're not? Or if you don't voice things that are bothering you? Cuz it certainly feels that way to me. I can't seem to make any real friends since returning to school. I made a few friends, yes, but they don't seem to be enduring. You know? They don't include me in things or invite me to stuff and I've noticed a very definite sideways scuttle from them at times. I think they mostly like me but hold me at arm's length a bit. Like they know better than to get too entangled or else the barbs will get caught in their hair. It's weird. But it's been like that most of my life so I guess I'm kind of used to it.

Instability

I think that finally, after years of having various people say it to me, I'll have to come to terms with it and admit that maybe I'm just unstable. There, I said it.

It's not something Rob likes to hear me admitting to because in his world, acknowledging a shortcoming is like giving it life. But after years and years of pretending to be a completely rational and sane person, I don't find that I'm feeling any saner. In fact, I think lately I've had the most intense periods of feeling completely unhinged that I've ever had. Luckily, those days are filled with many other days when I feel just fine and happy. Otherwise it would seriously be time to commit me.

But this is exactly why I say I'm unstable. I do fluctuate between feeling totally okay and fine with my world as it is to be unbelievably despondent, angry and saddened about the way my life long ambitions have been met with increasingly closed doors.

The closed doors are an enormous problem lately. I sit in front of them and cry. Or I bang on them like a banshee and scream. Or I quietly stare at them in suffering and contemplation and inwardly seethe or die.

I'm doing so much inner dying lately that I'm not sure some days if I can't officially be classified as the walking dead. I think this is a problem. Seems like it is, don't you think?

And yet, I have days like this Sunday when I went for a walk and felt so good with the sun on my face and I met a couple who had a blue and gold macaw and I sang to them. The couple, the macaw and their dogs. And they loved my singing. And it was nice, for once, to have my singing appreciated.

I'm in this fucking obnoxious school where my singing might as well be nails on a chalkboard. The way I'm being treated is like so much crap. I walked in with high hopes and they've all been dashed. And, as if that weren't bad enough, I'm getting the crazy-lady look from certain people.

FINE! WHY DON'T I JUST BEHAVE LIKE THE CRAZY LADY THEN!!?? Seriously. I want to just start running around on campus behaving on the outside the way I feel on the inside. And then maybe they'll commit me and I just won't have to deal with this bullshit anymore.

(I realize this has been a complete unhinged rant. But that was the point. I wanted to go all stream of consciousness and this is what came out.)

Lately.

Something in my psyche is definitely changing. Things are happening in my subconscious and they’re like an undertow. I think it’s a good thing for me, actually.

I’m not behaving like myself. For starters, I’ve now upset Rob twice by completely forgetting him in a way that is not at all like me. I usually call him to let him know where I am and what I’m doing – almost at all times. And especially if I’m somewhere like Atlantic City. I do this so he doesn’t worry. But last time I went I left my phone in my room and got hung up in a poker game and didn’t call. He was worried sick. And it’s not like me to not worry about other people but I think I am spending so much of my time lately being worried about other people that I really just wanted a night where I didn’t feel like anyone depended on me. I wanted a night where I was just allowed to BE. But afterwards I realized that’s not fair to Rob and I felt horrible about it. Yet I turned around and did a similar thing yesterday again. I went to visit with my friend David, whom I haven’t seen in a while. We were supposed to be done by 6:30pm and I told Rob I might meet up with him after. I really did have him in my thoughts when I said this. But then David and I got into one of our extended jags on life, love, family, travel, etc… before I knew it time had just flown by. Rob had left me text messages on my phone, which was being ignored in my bag. I finally pulled it out and he was pissed off. Once again I’d completely failed to take him into account. I forgot to text him and let him know I’d probably be there later than 6:30pm. He was right to be pissed off at me. It’s irresponsible behavior. But why? I’m up at 4am asking myself why am I behaving this way all of a sudden?

Last week I forgot my dad’s birthday. That is also not like me. I was going to AC on the 7th and it was all I could think about. I was so excited to get away from everyone that the 6th, my dad’s birthday, just got away from me. I remembered on the 9th, very late that evening because we’d been out for a friend’s birthday and then it clicked that I’d forgotten dad. How could I forget dad?

I tell you why and how. Because all I’ve been able to think about for months is mom’s well-being, mom’s appointments, mom’s latest insurance issue. Dad’s latest insurance issue. In the middle of the night I’m thinking, “must follow up with phone call to see if First Health received the fax I sent yesterday… must call Empire Blue Cross to find out why that last claim wasn’t paid.” This is what is constantly going on in my head. There are days when I start the day wanting to practice all day and then suddenly I remember I need to call Medicare about this or that. That turns into 20 minutes on hold and then a 20 minute conversation where I’m asked to call someone else. I call that person and that’s another 5 minutes on hold and a 5 minute conversation. And I’m transferred to someone else, etc. Eventually someone tells me they need me to fax a form to them. And so I have to download the form, fill it out and fax it. Suddenly the 2 hours I had set aside to practice that morning are somehow gone. And this happens at least a couple of times a week.

My sister is a source of serious concern and trauma except I am supposed to not be letting her get to me or affect me. But she does. Each day I check in with the one person who gives me secret updates on her and each day I discover something else that worries or concerns me but there’s nothing I can do. I keep tabs on her because one day, when all this shit hits the proverbial fan I want to know when she’s lying to me about events.

And that brings me to another topic. Trust. I don't feel I can trust anyone anymore. Between Rob’s lies about his secret lives and his nerve to be upset with me because I chose to have secrets too (men always think they’re the only ones who can be allowed whole secret identities) and my sister’s apparent lies to me and others in her life, I just feel like nothing is sacred anymore. When I got married I thought I had the type of marriage where we tell each other everything and there were no secrets. I really wanted it to be that way between us. So when I found out that Rob was keeping secrets and was going to considerable lengths to keep sexual secrets from me, I felt very betrayed and I felt like the everything I believed in was a lie.

It wasn’t until we moved here and his behavior became erratic and I learned there were more lies that I finally decided I might as well develop my own superhero cover up. I-will-take-care-of-myself-Girl. With the power of “fuck you.” I did that for a couple of years but lately it’s started to lose its luster. The shiny power of “fuck you” has become apathy. I think with the whole situation with my mom and my sister I just don’t have the energy to keep up the whole “fuck you” thing. It’s morphed into something like “fuck everybody”. To hell with everyone. I’m always exhausted. I’m too tired for a lover. Too tired to explain that I’m too tired. Just fuck off.

And so I guess that’s why I’ve been a little lax about conveying my whereabouts and timings and whatnot. I’m just so fucking fed up. Does he tell me when he’s going to meet someone for some sort of “whatever”? No. I doubt it. And, what’s truly ironic is that I was better at letting him in on what I was doing when I had something to hide. Now that I have nothing to hide I am horrible about keeping tabs on myself. Isn’t that just a kick in the pants?

I need everyone to just fuck the fuck off for a while. But not mom or dad. They need to get strong so I don’t have to worry about them so much.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

The sun's a star, right? It's the biggest star in our solar system, or maybe it's the closest. Either way, it's a star. Why does no one wish upon it? I will wish upon it today. And since it's sooo gi-normous I will make a HUGE wish. I won't tell you what it is but I will let you know if it comes true. I was told the universe is abundant and can deliver on big orders. I figure, why not? Today I will give it a whirl. I'll keep you posted.

Summer

Well, so far my summer's been not at all a bit relaxing. However, I'm getting reacquainted with the concept of peace. Even if it's just for minutes at a time. I'm starting to remember what it feels like to not be in a state of constant panic. It's nice. I have to just enjoy it while it's here because I'm fairly certain it won't be this way for too long. Life just isn't that way. But these momentary lapses into peacefulness are really welcome. Nice. They're just so nice.

Going Back

I think I’m getting closer to understanding what I really need and might want in my life. Doing all this music stuff lately is like sleepwalking through life. Everything is fuzzy and faint and soon forgotten. Life inside a cloud. It’s hard to spend so much time and energy on a subject I find I no longer really care that much about. I don’t really feel compelled to sing anymore. I sing now because I have to in chorus and because part of me thinks I can still sing well enough that people might actually want to her it. But the drive to thrive is gone. I just don’t care like I used to. Makes everything connected to it feel like I’m living a lie. I’d like to be doing something I feel a connection to. And, while this is odd for me to say and/or admit to myself, I’m just not as connected to music as I used to be. At least not in the way I was before. I don’t want to hear a piece of music and think, “Oh that’s a fifth” or “Listen to those crazy dissonances.” I want to just listen. I want to think “That was moving” or “that was beautiful” or “that is the most disjointed piece I’ve heard in a long while.” That’s it… simple. I don’t need or want to dissect it. Someone went through a lot of trouble to put it together just so that others could listen to it and have a holistic experience. I don’t enjoy being force to listen like a surgeon.

I’d like to sit and stare at a blue body of water for an afternoon and wait for the voice of God to lead me towards my next vocation or avocation. Because singing/music just isn’t it anymore. Except I am pretty sure God decided to stop talking to me roughly around the time I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 19. I could feel him leaving me. I thought I heard a voice say, “You’re on your own now, kiddo.” And it wasn’t my parents. In fact, my mom didn’t say much and my sweet dad who’d never said a mean thing to me ever said, “Let her go. She’s been nothing but trouble.”

I used to love to write. As a matter of fact, you could say that I still love to write. I used to write every chance I got. And, as a child, when I wasn’t considering music as a lifestyle, I considered writing. Do you know who practically beat that idea right out of my head? My psychotic mother. I used to keep a journal. I used to write poetry almost nonstop too. My mother hated that I would steal off to my room to write. I think she felt I was being antisocial and therefore not keeping her company (but that’s another issue entirely). Anyway, one day she read my diary and discovered that I was headed towards being a slut. I mean, I wasn’t really. I was doing what many healthy young girls do. I was experimenting. A kiss with a boy, maybe a little grope with another… nothing that other girls weren’t doing. Except that I probably was a little more risqué and was keeping a list of all the boys I liked and/or had made out with. This made my mom flip out. After that, every time she saw me scribbling away I guess she associated my scribbling with what she’d read and she’d start yelling at me. But it wasn’t coherent. Now that I’m older I realize these are the rants of a person who had some serious problems. She was lonely and depressed and possibly certifiably nuts, but how was I supposed to know that at age 12? Her rants almost always hinged on the fact that she felt ignored and whatever I was doing, whether I was writing, or practicing my singing or anything else, I wasn’t talking to her or playing a board game with her. Or else, I wasn’t doing something useful like the dishes or cleaning the bathroom or dusting furniture. There were two things I was supposed to do to keep her happy. Be a “good” girl, which seemed to mean I was to go nowhere, have no friends and always help keep the house clean. The other thing was to keep her company because dad seemed to always be out doing something or other and it had somehow become my responsibility to babysit her. Of course, all of this is clear now that I’m older. At the time it was just a huge and insurmountable burden. I realize now that the times when I was out with my friends and suddenly became super depressed for apparently no reason, it was probably the great amount of stress I was feeling at having to deal with mom at home.

Anyway, so she basically made me feel that writing was a bad thing. I started to unconsciously write less. Music and singing took place of writing. Until she attempted to kill that too. When I was 18 and had gotten into Mannes College of Music and Manhattan School of Music, I was thrilled. I chose to go to Mannes and all she could do when I’d come home and tried to practice was to sit there and grit her teeth till I stopped and then she’d interrupt with, “are you going to do the dishes?” That’s why I left home. I just couldn’t take her anymore. I was trying desperately to find myself and find my talents and work with them and she just wanted me to stop whatever I was doing and help her with chores. WTF?

So, now, many years later, I find myself still getting depressed and crazed for almost no reason at all. I find I don’t know what I want anymore and I think maybe I’m trying to kill myself slowly. Lately my heart feels like it’s breaking inside my chest. Literally. I’ve had a couple of crying jags where I thought I could feel what it feels like to have your heart begin to tear itself apart inside your chest. It’s not like a break at all. It’s like a slow, excruciating pulling apart. Wrenching. I walk around some days feeling like if only I could throw up my heart I could feel okay finally. I know that sounds bizarre and disgusting, but I’m trying to describe something that isn’t pleasant or simple to describe.

So, yeah… I guess you could say I’m walking around pretty broken. But I’m sticking out this semester. I’m sticking to my guns and finishing this degree. Cuz even if I don’t care about music anymore and don’t know where I’m headed with my life, I do know one thing. Even decent secretarial jobs require that you have a fucking B.A. They almost don’t care what the major is so long as you can prove you made it through college without blowing up the building, going on a killing spree or flunking out. That’s really what they need that piece of paper for. It’s just evidence that you can work day in and day out under pressure, deadlines and bureaucratic nonsense without freaking flipping out. Your B.A. doesn’t really certify that you are ready to be a great composer or an accomplished writer or a brilliant archeologist. Your B.A. is a sign that you can handle loads of bullshit. It’s a certificate that shows you’re ready to handle huge amounts of very specific nonsense except now you’re asking to be paid for the privilege. And that is my real reason for putting myself through college at this late date in my life. Because I suspect that piece of paper will come in handy if I’m no longer committed to being a singer.

Dreams

I woke up this morning, 4:30am, fantasizing. Dreaming about packing things. First it was all my excess clothing. Things that no longer fit me, in size or in style or function. Then it was all my performance clothing and formal wear. I would sell them to chubby girls who don't want to spend loads on a ballgown cuz, you-never-know, they just might lose that weight and want to splurge on something nice when they do. Then it was all my musical scores. I'd put up a notice on the classical music forum and sell them off. Finally my piano. Rich loves that piano and I used to. Maybe he can just keep it.

Then I fantasized myself living Arizona. I'd take a job doing anything. Work in a store, or even waitress and I'd live alone. I would no longer have sex. Sex is a distraction. It's an animalistic drive that is mostly self-serving no matter how sensitive and giving a lover you might be.

This fantasy of mine went as far as to include a Shaman. I would meet a Shaman in Arizona and I would learn from him to heal with energy. I like that idea. And this would be my new life. And it would make me happy.

Because the problem I'm facing is that I'm doing everything I do now because I don't know what else to do. I no longer really believe this persona I've spent years becoming. I no longer buy her brand of bullshit. She's trapped in her trappings while her soul is screaming out for something entirely different. Her soul is waning but not quietly. She is asking me, in my dreams, sleeping and waking, to please choose another path.

But here's my problem. I only know the path I'm on. I don't see any signs pointing to anywhere else. Maybe I have to pave some new roads. But truth is, aside from these dreams, I have no real sense of where to begin.

One big happy family...

Wrote this the other night after seeing pictures sent to me by a friend. I won't even try to explain it. Here you go...


Happy family, 1/1/08

Guilt and rage sat on the stairs
silently contemplating each other
rage's eyes darting
while holding a rigid stance -
Like a black sky before a storm -
(like her suppression).

Guilt sheepishly bit at her hangnails
nervously avoiding the cameraman
- Lust -
whose telephoto lens hit the middle of the scene
That space - a barometric truce.

meanwhile innocence played nearby, and
melancholy made a meal of them all.

Friendships

So, I was rereading some of my posts and got to the one where I say I'd rather be friends with people who like my singing than with those who don't. And I realize how bad that probably sounds. But it's not like I only make friends with people who like my singing. As it turns out, the woman mentioned in that post has become a nice enough acquaintance but I don't see us becoming friends. The reason I posted that was that when I sang Vitelia, I started to make friends with this guy who was in the chorus. He seemed nice enough but then 2 days after the performance, when I was still feeling VERY GOOD about myself and had lots of huge compliments and the conductor said it was a pleasure really making music with me, etc. I was feeling so freaking good about myself as a singer. But this guy just couldn't wait for a little time to go by. He just had to jump in there and burst my bubble. He emails me 2 days later and says something like, "well, your vibrato isn't really to my liking and I think you need to fix it if you want to have a career but I think you did a nice job." WHAT!?

Seriously, if you value someone and are trying to become their friend, that is the kind of thing you either a) keep to yourself or b) wait until you are better, closer friends and then, TASTEFULLY, you might bring it up IF the opportunity arises. You don't just blurt this out in an email right after a successful performance. Anyway, that's why I figure if I'm going to have friends I need to feel they're on my side. They don't need to love every little thing I do or say or sing, but they should more or less, generally, be on my side. I don't think that's a lot to want in a friendship.

But since I'm on the subject, I must say I've always had a problem making and keeping friends. People always kind of freak me out. I've been burned by people I thought were really good friends and so I have learned to just keep my distance. I'm very guarded, which maybe people read and they keep their distance because I'm sending out guarded signals... who knows?

It's just hard to see all these people in school chattering away with each other and know that when I try to join in the conversation I'm kind of the odd-man out. I am finding it hard to really connect with anyone in this school. There are a couple of women I'd like to befriend because they're closer to my age and are singers, etc. But because I'm an undergrad I don't have much contact with them. I'm in a crappy situation. Most of the people around me are younger than me and they are sweet and nice to me but I think they see me as "that older transfer woman" and don't really include me. It's just awkward all around.

So far, the only person I've managed to make friends with is the one person who's LEAVING! How do I do this to myself?

Oh well. I suppose it will all shake out somehow.

boomerang

everything is new again
my love, my darling
new, for you -

the ocean, vast and blue
fresh and grand
a shocking jolt unites your lovely body
to the rolling waves
you float away,
an underwater bird
you fly
arms outstretched
it is your ocean now and always

cheeseburgers, mousse and mangoes
chewy, smooth and sweet
bursting and tantalizing on your taste buds
your face in open wonder
(where have they been hiding these delicacies?)
a feast for a king
the king of everything
rocking in your seat all energy and grins
beaming

a first snowfall
fireworks' booms - their smokey smell
everything in the world is new again
new again
for you, my love

haikus about food

this must go somewhere
perhaps down to the basement
i can't keep it here

this must go away
my inner turbulances
are making me eat

i must end this thing
i'll will it to the treadmill
leave it there in sweat

Poetry about the boy

Lyrics to my life I
by Alice Torcas

He’s in search of a new sensation
He’s giving off a new vibration
He is like a bright new penny
So two-sided and oh so pretty.

His face goes blank when you corner him with questions.
His cover’s blown but he shows no vacillation.
His indignation is a false conviction
To deter your attention from his secret addiction.

He has the nerve to get jealous when you smile at a boy
But just how do you feel about his backdoor toys?

Boys, boys – they’re all the same
Wanting all the power
Playing hidden games.

Boys, boys – don’t waste your time.
They will turn it all on you
Like they’re dropping you a dime.

Do yourself a favor and just play along
This bicycle’s for two.
Ride it, kick it all night long.