Wednesday, December 23, 2015

VIDEO WEDNESDAY! May we all be like THIS gal! Happy Holidays!

Follow this link to UpWorthy's website, read the story and watch the video. What a great gal!
xoXOXO


http://www.upworthy.com/when-a-97-year-olds-drivers-license-was-revoked-she-went-to-get-it-back

The Holidays Bring that $hit Up: on lackluster holidays and the return of wonder, The Philadelphia Story and (wo)man's search for meaning.

It is Wednesday, December 23rd, 2015.

The puppy is off at his babysitter's, after I spent four days watching the sitter's two dogs while SHE was out of town. The house feels empty without my little boy (furbaby!) and last night I spent the evening watching "The Philadelphia Story," which is not a holiday classic per se, but which brings up every feeling of womanhood I am experiencing right now.

Well, not exactly. I'm not torn between three men, and I'm not a wealthy equestrian.

But I am all those other things that Tracy, aka Kath Hepburn, is in that movie. A goddess learning to be human, and vice versa.

In 2015, that comes off very differently than how it was used when "Philadelphia Story" was made. In 2015, we have connotations of New Age tarot decks, yogini worship of Qwan Yin, Wiccan idolatry. I myself have participated in at least two of those three.

 

But I mean it in the way that ALL humans, especially today, need to return to their bodies and get back into being human- a real human being.

We- okay, I'll speak for myself- I need to feel. I need to remember the awe of Christmas, and if not Christmas, then awe in general. This year I don't have a tree, I only did a couple of gifts, and I haven't made any cheesecakes or cookies at all. Historically, I have always loved Christmas and the magic of the dark silence of a wintry woods. Now, I live in a concrete jungle full of billboards and plastic surgeons and diet programs and celebrities famous for being talentless. I'm sorry, but where is the wonder and awe in that?

In my heart, of course. That's the answer. *I* am the poetess. I am the singer, the muse, the creator of worlds and characters and laughter and love. 

Dang.

So how can I give to myself?





What am I craving?

I don’t usually get too wild in my mood swings any longer, but lately I have been feeling a bit of a nihilistic sense of pointlessness. Then I think to myself, as soon as I catch myself wallowing, I say, "Well, Erin, you know how to practice joy, fun, sensuality, giving, being of service, gratitude. So even if part of you feels this is all bullshit, just keep loving and giving. You’ll get out of your crappy attitude and back into divinity fast."

Usually it takes only a moment. Lately it has been taking me a day or even a few days.

Either I’m losing my touch, OR I’m going through something, OR I am at a new strata, a new level, and so while it is actually better than ever before, it FEELS less effective because my personal barre has been raised…

Or a little of all of the above.

(In other news, don't you hate the meme "take it to the next level?" And yet it is SO very useful, that phrase!)
 
What am I craving?

Endless spritz cookies and egg nog with rum, sure, yes. 

But really...

What am I craving?
 
I am craving serenity- peace in my heart- and lovingness. I crave wonder. Excitement, possiblity, opportunity, a feeling of purpose, yes. I am craving awe. I am craving that feeling I had after I received in a vision on top of Prophecy Rock* in the Hopi village of Oraibi, where I felt SO in love with the world as it IS (life on life's terms!) and in such bliss that every cell in my body felt so much  pleasure and pain and joy and sorrow and bliss it was orgasmic but not in a sexual sense- well that was in there- but in every possible sense and even beyond.

That just got at once very intimately personal and very mystical. But I feel that if I am to share any learning in this blog with ANYONE who reads it, I will give an account of my honest experience in life, so as to encourage all of you to live YOUR life, or maybe just because sharing what I have discovered in my exploration of the world is PRECISELY how I feel alive in the world- as Hepburn's Tracy says at the end of "Philadelphia Story," "like a human... like a human being."

(go directly to: 2:00!)


           
But back to bliss.
  
Perhaps it is possible to feel that way all the time- Jesus, Mother Mary come to mind.

Perhaps not.

Of course I am none of those folks- Jesus, Katherine Hepburn, Santa Claus, Mother Mary, not even you. I am you, of course, and I am all of those folks. They live in me and I live in them. I am none and all as are you as are all of us.  

Goo goo g'joob, indeed. 

So, what would life look like if I gave myself even more permission to let go of what I don't want- nihilism, in this instance... it's fine for some Übermensches, but not for me.... 

Even if I didn't know what else was out there? Even if I didn't know how else it could go? 

 I had a great teacher once who taught the lesson of going just outside your comfort zone. She taught it in numerous ways. She taught us to “stay beyond the mind,” meaning, if your mind tells you it is time to leave, stay just a little longer, just long enough to see if your mind isn’t changed and learning occurs. She taught us that most people have one or two responses to stress, A and B, but taught us to create a triangle of response by being willing to find an option C- any option C- just be willing to find something new, something we have never thought to think or do before. I started applying this to my life in all sorts of ways. I started waking up in the morning saying to myself, “Today, I want to see three things I have never noticed before.” “Today, I want to think thoughts I have never thought to think before.” “Today, I am willing to find an opportunity to go beyond my mind, go beyond my norm, go beyond my comfort zone.”

It becomes a little addictive, actually.

And yes, with that, I went back to school for opera, I did tons of one woman shows, I traveled many times to India and Europe, I “did” and will always DO amazing things.

But the most interesting application in my life is in my day to day relationship with my most intimate friends and family, and with myself.

And if I lived that way all the time? Well, perhaps I do...

What would my life look like?

No idea. But I’m open to not knowing and letting the mystery unfold.








*Perhaps someday I shall post that story, of Prophecy Rock. Perhaps I am saving it for my proper memoirs. LOVE! 

I shall close by quoting Robert Frost, who said everything so much more beautifully in this:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.   
His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

Friday, December 18, 2015

Fiction Fridays, The Art of Observing, and Things We Learn From Our Sisters/ Ourselves.

Happy Fiction Fridays, all!

I have been slowing down a bit for the year, writing about 3-5 pages a day on the novel. As you may know if you've been following the blog, Carlo and I finished our umpteenth draft of our screenplay and have sent it to a few connections in the industry as a first round of marketing. We also entered a few competitions of note, just to see what happens there as well! We read that screenplay competitions, at least the ones we're entering, get between 7000-11,000 entries each year! And yet, I have two friends that have won notable competitions! An acquaintance friend from acting class won the Nicholls a few years back, and another friend (guy I briefly dated) won Slamdance. So, something about osmosis is going on? LOL. No, yes, maybe, who knows? At least I know that I am surrounded by gifted friends and colleagues and keep very good company. :)
 

In other news, today is a very special sister's birthday, and in conjunction with slowing down and reading a little more, watching some old spy movies and TV classics for inspiration for my next project with Carlo, and writing (less, but still!) on the novel, I am doing a bit of reflecting on the spirituality and beauty and peace I have learned from my experiences.

Here's what I wrote today:
 
--> When I was 17 and working with a very intense and brilliant singing teacher and coach, she noticed that I was already an insane perfectionist who beat herself up over every little missed nuance in the music I was singing. So the free-spirited, former hippie (yet somehow Minnesota Lutheran) that she was, she gave me this book: “The Inner Game of Tennis” by Tim Galwey. She told me to apply it to singing and it made all the difference in the world.

In it, a renowned tennis coach becomes a Zen Buddhist. Prior to his enlightenment, he was one of those harsh and intense coaches who shouted and yelled over the minutiae as well as the big mistakes. He started learning about  observation of self and the concept of the Observer, and though he would try it on his own tennis game. His game improved immeasurably and so he started using the art of observation on his athletes. Lo and behold, their games improved, too!


I started using it on myself with singing as well as other areas of study- academics, etc. And it made a HUGE difference. I don't know how, or perhaps I could look into how, but why? There are myriad scientists who can do so and mine is to write and sing about my life, and I know that not only did my test scores improve, but I actually had more fun!


Years later I got the idea that I could use observation rather than rules on my eating. Mostly I was coached into trying this by a former Guru, who knew about my eating issues, and, when I told her about my little secret trick of observation with regard to singing, she suggested I try it with eating, body image, binging, starving, and even purging. I started watching without judgment, and began adding blessings! Yes! I even blessed my purging.

I believe THIS is why I have been able to truly make lasting changes- the blessing- because I’m not manically affirming the purge (or now, the small amount of overeating that sometimes occurs. Nothing like the old days! I can’t overeat because it actually no longer really applies to me, meaning, I don’t believe in the CONCEPT of over eating any longer! Weird, huh? When I think about how I used to think, it’s more like reading about a distant relative rather than thinking about mySELF.) I simply watch myself and remain present- as present as I am able to be- for every breath, every bite, every movement. I stop and ask myself: is this joy? I allow myself to binge and eat as much as I want as long as I am truly, sensually ENJOYING every bite. For a while in there,  I was not truly sensually  enjoying every bite and something beyond the pleasure drive is forcing food into my mouth. I watched that and blessed that, too.



In a world of pressures to be perfect, and if not perfect, then at least always striving and pushing and driving and never arriving, how do we talk to ourselves for lasting change?


How do we incorporate our desire to “improve,” or “succeed” with our desire to be and practice love?
We do it with love. We do it with as close to non-judgment and as close to blessing as we possibly can. If we can get to the point of just observing, the shifts that come out of that will astound us, for we will no longer be driven by the external presentation of pressure, but by our own inner divinity.


Something my sister and I came up with many many years ago was the idea that when we were stymied about what to do our how to react or how to behave, we would ask ourselves, what would my sister have me do? We happen to have a very loving relationship! I recognize not everyone is blessed with a sister relationship that is so pure. If you can’t do this with your sister, ask yourself how you would advise your niece, or your best friend’s gifted daughter. How would Mother Mary, or Qwan Yin, or Jesus, or Wayne Dyer advise you? Go into their hearts for a moment, looking back at YOU, and see what they have to say!


But back to me and my sister. Like I said, she and I are “sororital soul mates,” (my term, I think, haha!) and we together came  up with the idea that if and when we were faced with challenges of punitive self- admonition, self-sabotaging behavior, or any other question at all, really, we  would ask ourselves, “What would I tell my sister to do if she were in my position and asking me for help?” The love between us is so pure- pure enough- that we could at least see what WE would want in regards to health and joy and dreams coming true for the other.


What a change in self-talk! We would never want the other to abuse food/ drugs/ alcohol/ anything else for that matter, or date BLEEPholes, or stay in negative relationships, or spend so wildly that we would ruin our financial lives.


We WOULD want the other to eat mostly healthy but not beat the self up over a deviation from the plan. We would tell the other that celebratory eating on a holiday was a gift from the ancients and that it would not affect our bodies long term. (A lapse is not a relapse!) We want the other to pursue our gifts and build a career all the while finding financial stability and dignity.




NOW is the only time there is. This is the only time I can do anything, from breathing and involuntary body movements to making choices and taking actions. I don’t really know what’s possible for me now or in the future, but I do know who I am and what I love and that I am pursuing a beautiful life. I am committed to love. The gift of love and of art running through me is just that- a gift. The rest is all gravy. 

And so, I commit, and recommit, to being love, acting from love, creating from love, and then: love is what is returned to me. 

Have faith, dear one.


Of course we all can, and of course that is what we will do anyway, for this is the life we live, whether or not the conscious mind sees it as such. But how wonderful would it be to marry the subconscious and the conscious minds in love during this lifetime?

May the cosmos bless each and every moment, and each and every moment within that moment- regardless of our judgment. All of this is a dream and a gift. Let us honor it as such. 


With love,
 
Peace in your heart.
 
xoxoxo
Erin

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Year End Recap: ARE YOU CELEBRATING YOU!?

Hello, everybody!

You all know I love my "internet challenges." You know, the platform challenge from October through Writer's Digest, the #nanowrimo national novel writing month challenge... right now, as part of my day job, I am doing the Mentor Masterclass Holiday Challenge. :)

Today is Day Two, and the task was to list alllll of my accomplishments for the year 2015. No achievement was too small. My list was smaller than years past, perhaps, but mighty. One of the things I consciously have been doing is slowing down- doing less, focusing more!

(I know my artistic challenge of a few weeks back is contradictory to what I just wrote! Which is why you will find an AMENDED version of that on my Patreon. I was reminded by most everyone I know that QUALITY is important as well as QUANTITY. And I don't want to spread myself too thin!)

But I am sharing with you today not to list all of my accomplishments, most of which were things like- didn't get sick this year. Got lots of nights with solid sleep this year. Didn't waste as much time on Facebook so that I could read more novels. Of course there were a few choice biggies- moved in with my love, did a one woman show, wrote and re-wrote (a hundred times) a very intense and smart and fun action script with my partner in life, love and writing. Etc.

Then, there was a question for reflection about celebrating accomplishments, and about creating a community of friends where we all honor each other... Here's my reflection.



" I used to never celebrate my achievements, because it always felt like a waste of time. Then I started a reward system because my life was starting to feel useless, pointless, nihilistically depressed. There WAS no point to life. 

And while there may or may not be, part of my mystical conversion in India was realizing that THAT way of thinking, living, believing, being and living- THAT was not for me. I was a rose and for me all there was to do was to bloom- i.e., a rose is a rose is a rose. A rose grows, blooms, withers, dies. It does not choose when it blooms, when it withers, when it dies. It doesn’t even think it has a choice. It merely roses- does as a rose does- in accordance to its OWN co-creative interplay with nature and with the cosmos. So for me, it was the same: I would simply act and be the truest MYSELF I could be in accordance with MY interplay with nature and the cosmos. 



Easier said than done, but then again, not really, because that’s all any of us are ever doing, whether we recognize it or not. 

Then again, we are human roses. And we do have some and certain choices- and MINE at this time is a practice of choosing the humanistic and the hopeful, and putting that into practice.... 

SO in regard to the reward system, every Friday I get a reward just for it being Friday. (Looking for rewards where I don’t spend money, though, as I am also now trying to live within my means, something I’ve never done, but want to really get my debt- and credit- in better shape.) Then, I get rewards for all sorts of good behavior as well- keeping commitments, doing responsible/ boring things that MUST be done (seeing the OB/GYN for example, definitely warrants an hour with the phone turned off, just me and a novel.)


I looked at my list for this year and it is very small and low compared to achievements of previous years. That said, I think slowing down and doing less was of extreme important to me and it seems that perhaps it has only helped me with some of my other accomplishments. My screenplay with my partner took a lot of time and attention. Not getting sick was on the list, and that is another biggie for me. I used to get sick all the time. But now, this last year, aside from allergies and a few remnants leftover from car accidents and last year's pneumonia, I have been VERY HEALTHY. I

no longer miss sleep, that should definitely be on my list!



I had to break the very difficult habits of saying yes to everything, of spreading myself too thin. I had to end a few projects and in so doing I also lost a few relationships… but I did what I thought was the right thing to do because I REALLY WANT TO CHANGE MY LIFE, for real.



So, I will celebrate that I have been willing to change, and in so doing, a lot of the WAY things have come to me have- and will- change(d.) I am only in the beginning stages of a slower, more meaningful, more sensual, more thoughtful way of life. I guess I had to begin with a small discussion about semantics about what I see as accomplishments, because I want quality rather than quantity now…



How would it feel if I celebrated all of them all of the time?



This is what I aspire toward actually. ;)



Great parking spot? Yay! Celebration dance!



Authentic conversation with a family member? Yay! Foot massage!



Loving kiss with my partner? Yay! Another loving kiss!



LOL.



I think it would be INCREDIBLY EMPOWERING.



Okay!



Champagne, anyone?"

p.s. If you haven't seen STANDUPERA yet... it was on my list of accomplishments... ;-p 

Monday, December 14, 2015

StandUpera! It's HERE!

And now, without any further ado,
Maestro! If you please:

STANDUPERA!


Friday, December 11, 2015

Fiction Fridays: December 11th, 2015: What I'm up to writing wise (screenplay, novel); a poem from college and its context; Sappho.

December 11th!

Today is Friday, and that makes this FICTION FRIDAY!

WHOOT!

I wanted to give a little update on what I'm up to these days writing-wise.

Just this morning, Carlo and I held a reading of our feature-length action-thriller screenplay. We had made a few major changes after getting feedback from a script analyst from Sony, and another from a reader at the agency CAA. Both analysts had great feedback- "the future looks bright [for your script]" and "...reminds me of the best scenes from 'Homeland." Both analysts ALSO had a lot of suggestions on changes to implement and so, after discussion about how to really make the script the best we possibly could, and after 6 weeks of intense rewriting, editing, reading, rewriting, editing, etc., we feel it is ready for the market.

Whew!

Meanwhile, I took part in National Novel Writing Month (#nanowrimo) last month! I wrote 250 pages of my novel, Eva de Los Angeles, expecting that my first draft will be about 400 pages. Oof duh! It's a magical realism road trip novel... more to come. I also re-read parts of the first novel I ever read, My Life as a Phone Psychic, and the comedy screenplay version of my FIRST one woman show, The One. My goal is, one at a time, to write a draft of one, edit/ rewrite the next, etc., until each is ready for agents/ publishers/ self publishing. At the point at which I feel any individual project is truly ready, I will proceed. In the meantime, my Fiction Fridays will DEFINITELY continue, with essays from the "self help" version of The One, (sort of along the lines of the book "He's Just Not That Into You," only really screamingly funny, so I've heard.) I will also put up excerpts from my novels that I just mentioned. Currently, my goal is to finish draft ONE of Eva de Los Angeles (based on the musical I wrote in 2012, but realized was far too large a story for a two act musical) by my birthday in February.

I know. It's a lot. But you've met me, right? If not? You're meeting me now! :) Un plaisir de reconnaitre.

So let's move on to something I found while looking through some old boxes-

a poem I wrote in college!

I write a lot of poems. Some of them are channeled and I am very proud of them. Some are sonnets, exercises in the integration of form as well as nuance. Of those, I am sometimes proud and sometimes... um... not so proud.

The following poem I actually really love, because of what it stands for in my life both NOW and at the time I wrote it.

I found it encased in some handouts from a class I took my fresh(wo)man year of college. I was in a program called "The Great Conversation" at my first college, St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota. I LOVED it. It was a two year program that would take care of every liberal arts requirement as it was taught by five different professors, covering Western Civilization from the time of the Ancient Greeks forward, taking a holistic, systemic study of each era (Ancient Greeks, Romans and Hebrews, etc.) History, art, architecture, science and math of the era, comparative studies of literature, music, religion... basically, everything I have always loved and studied, and continue to love and study now! Only now, I am definitely NOT an academic, but am merely an autodidact/ fangirl.

The handouts were about what we, meaning scholars, knew up to that time about the Greek poetess Sappho. I know that in recent years, more has been discovered and learned about Sappho, but the handout I am looking at now was the most recent at THAT time. I am going to include a few snippets of translated Sappho works, and then the poem I wrote, apparently at that time, right before my first rehab.

 (that's Sappho, not me! Although my real hair is that color, my eyes are truly blue.)

At that time of my life, I felt very lonely. I spent hours wandering the frozen woods near my college campus, communing with the endless gray skies and barren trees. I would wake up every day at 6 am to practice piano on the glorious Steinways in the practice rooms of the music hall, and then go for a long walk before breakfast, which was usually one apple. I see now, as an adult, I was isolating myself, and I know I was yearning for the life I WANTED to live but wasn't yet ready to claim for myself.

Now, MANY years later, forging a new path every day, I look back to that younger Erin and reach out a hand of compassion, yes; understanding, hell yes; and hope.

There are a lot of wonderful passages in this handout I have from so many years ago. I will share some now, and some again, perhaps. I encourage you all to investigate the "tenth muse" (read below.)

SAPPHO SNIPPETS:

"Some say the muses are nine. Careless!
Behold the tenth: Sappho of Lesbos."
-Plato, The Greek Anthology, IX. 506.



"Eros the loosener of limbs shakes me again-
   bitter-sweet, untamable, crawling creature."
-Sappho, translated by Jane McIntosh Snyder, p 27, in
   The Woman and the Lyre: Women Writers in Classical Greece and Rome



"As a sweet apple reddens
on a high branch

at the tip of the topmost bough:
The apple-pickers missed it.

No, they didn't miss it:
They couldn't reach it."
-Sappho, translated by Jim Powell, p 12, in
   Sappho: A Garland



"Like a mountain whirlwind
punishing the oak trees
love shattered my heart."
-Sappho, translated by Willis Barnstone, p. 9, in
   Sappho



"The moon has set,
and the Pleiades,
midnight--
the hours are passing
and passing--
yet I lie alone."
-Sappho, translation VLH









My poem:


i ask myself what i'm waiting for?
false knowledge drops on my doorstep.
after a mundane moment of
     fingering my desk
i choose now to ignore the lies,
the fragments chasing through my mind
of                i love you, i don't love you
   i need you, i don't need you

i'll end it now.

i choose you.

     and fear?
                 i ate it for breakfast.









Have a great weekend, all. And for breakfast, this weekend, I'm thinking a beautiful green juice, followed a few hours later by my favorite almond croissant and a cappuccino. ;-p

xoxo
Erin

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

"Sweet Little Jesus Boy," sung by Erin Carere, a cappella, live in 2013

This is a recording I found while searching through my files of old mp3s, scores, and song lyrics.

A couple years ago, my friend Jenna Edwards had a show called "Create Your Life With Jenna Edwards," and she invited me and Monique Maffiel Hester to come on and sing some Christmas songs to raise money for the Red Cross.

This is a song I chose to sing a cappella.

Enjoy!

Erin

Monday, November 30, 2015

Happy Birthday, Lucy Maud Montgomery!

Today, I opened my Facebook to discover this delightful doodle by Google doodler Olivia Huynh, posted by "Stuff You May Have Missed in History Class," which is a podcast I listen to regularly!



It's Lucy Maud Montgomery's 141st Birthday!

You can read what Google reported about LMM, or "Maud," as us uber fans call her, HERE:

If you don't know the delights of Lucy Maud Montgomery-

"Oh, Marilla, you don't know what you're missing!"

Most likely you have a cultural awareness of Anne of Green Gables, or as Carlo tells me she is known in Italy, "Anna da Cappelli Rossi." (Anne of the Red Hair.) You may have seen the CBC/ PBS movies staring Megan Follows or heard of Jonathan Crombie (aka Gilbert)'s untimely death last spring. Perhaps you are reading this blog because you are one of my childhood pen friends from across the globe, connected by a newsletter devoted to Anne, Maud, Emily of New Moon, Pat, the Blue Island, Victoria Magazine or baking vanilla liniment cakes.

Those of you who don't know this whimsical obsession of mine- those of you who know me as a powerhouse, or as an opera singer, or as a former rock singer, or as a writer of mystical memoir, or as a purveyor of raunchy and funny one woman shows, may now be going, "huh?"

Let me tell you just a little bit about why I love these books, this author, and what the books and their birth mother have meant to me over the years.

I first encountered Anne of Green Gables through the CBC/ PBS movie. PBS was not only one of the few channels we were allowed to watch at leisure as children, it was also one of the only channels we got in what was then a little house on the edge of a big forest (since replaced by housing developments.) I LOVED Anne and identified with her- constantly having adventures, and then constantly getting in trouble for being misunderstood for those adventures! I bought the books through my elementary school's book sales program. There used to be these little two or three page book catalogs (was it called Apple Books?) printed on newspaper style paper and you would pre-order the books for $1.25 or so. I DEVOURED the first Anne book and then began obsessively reading everything the woman ever wrote. Even in high school- I may have been writing essays on "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand (not a fan) or "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I am a fan) for A.P. English, but my free time was spent up in a tree or at the local coffee shop (JAVA JOINT!) reading Anne. (And King Arthur books, and others, but a lot of Anne.) As a teenager, I was romantic, poetic, deep, and although I had a group of friends, I really felt the most MYSELF as a lone wolf wandering through those disappearing woods.

The best trip I ever went on- with humble respect- was when my mother took me and my sister to Prince Edward Island, the native land of the esteemed author. We had so much fun peeking into craft shops, bookstores, and driving to remote parts of the island where the waters were wild. 

In college, the journals of LMM came out. It was, looking back, probably not the best idea to have been reading them at that time, for LMM suffered greatly from depression and many disappointments in life. She had such high ideals and so many aspects of her life seemed to fall short of those ideals. I shared that same problem in life- when a person has such an illustrious romantic imagination, and wants desperately to believe in the goodness- nay- GREATNESS- of oneself and others- then.... as a former life coach used to say, "Wanna be disappointed? Make an appointment." Meaning: attachment to outcome will disappoint you because it will so rarely go that way. Things will not look the way you THINK they should look. 

My shrink in rehab took away my Sylvia Plath books- ("Maybe best not to read the Bell Jar while you're going through this," Judy had said.) but I retained my LMM Journals.

Now, as an adult who has far surpassed those difficult times and replaced the wallow and misery with the sort of wisdom only pain can bring, and who looks for the opportunity ALWAYS in each obstacle, I understand why I loved Anne first, but TRULY loved Emily of New Moon, another of her heroines, more: 

Anne is what we would like to be. She looks always for the goodness and the possibility, and grows deeply into her own womanly wisdom despite great difficulties (being an orphan, being a red head, SPOLIER: losing a child.)

Emily is closer to our truthful experience of life as deeply sensitive, acutely aware, yet dreamy creators of story. 

What I aim to be now is THE STORY GIRL, Sarah Stanley, one who travels the world telling and writing her stories. Why? Because stories are how we feel ourselves back- or not- and therefore how we fathom what it means to be human.

The value and beauty of life, of nature, of relationships... In my heart and mind, I do feel that THESE are the things that will return humanity to a semblance of sanity. These are the things LMM offers with her characters and writing- heroines for us all to learn from, laugh with, feel delight and horror and comfort in.

That's what LMM has given to me.

That photo above is Prince Edward Island-
sure does give you a lot of "scope for imagination," eh?

“There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting.”
L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables  


Friday, November 27, 2015

Fiction Fridays, November 27th, 2015: THE ONE, ORIGINAL VERSION, Downloadable PDF; notes on Thanksgiving, being broke, and a poem response to T.S. Eliot

Hey everyone!

As promised, here is a dropbox link to download the PDF of the script of the original version:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/wkgri4h03inzf6w/THE%20ONE%20ORIGINAL%20VERSION.pdf?dl=0


I will NOT be Black Friday shopping today, did you? Thankfully, I'm too broke to do Christmas shopping this year, and I say that quite honestly, because it is all so overwhelming and I'd prefer to write poems and bake stuff over buying (mostly) junk that people forget about a few weeks later. I will tell you, my life as an artist hasn't always been so low income, but this year has also involved a lot of projects that I put my money into instead of those that paid me. Sometimes that happens. During those times, I find other reasons to celebrate.

So, coupled into this Fiction Fridays post with the download of "The One," I thought I would just write a wee bit about what I have learned about the beauty of life as a low income, working class artist. This may or may not be different than the beauties associated with life as a high income, upper class artist; this may or may not be different than the beauties associated with life as a low income, working class non-artist.

See, I've been extra broke lately. I have some sense deep inside that we're not supposed to talk about being broke- part of it is my midwestern pride, perhaps, not too proud to admit the truth, but a sense that hard work should make you money, right?

(Did 2008 teach us nothing?)

And then there's the whole privacy vs. transparency thing.

Then there's "branding" and the presentation of glamour.

Then there's the trade-off of values. Like, I work a lot, and I have chosen to put most of my income this year into my one woman show, moving, a video project, and continuing investing in vocal coachings. So, that means I cannot afford to visit family in the midwest this year. That was my choice, and the tradeoff, and some years I can have both and some years I choose the family oer the reinvestment in my artistic life.

I have been up an down financially quite a lot in my life, which has led to some incredible life experience already, and I'm only 1/3.... ah, more like... 3/7 of the way through! I won't detail too many of those life experiences here, but I've done everything from sell all my possessions to move into a touring van (a 1973 Rogue RV) to travel with my band- to sing for royalty- to live in the back seat of my car for a few days in between apartments- to volunteer with lepers- to attend a royal wedding as a guest- to meet with shamans- to massage the rich and famous- to massage the worker bees- to sing opera, to perform standup, and etc. I think it's cool, and it's part of how I consider my life values in the face of some of the things I *don't* have that many of my peers do.... like wedding photo albums and mortgages.

So in really lean times, like the last fast months, I have long stopped freaking out. I'm scrappy. I can hustle. I'll be fine. I have long stopped letting my income define my "worth," whether that be from a cultural capitalist point of view OR a spiritually-material manifesting point of view.

Instead, I start to consider how much we really are in this together, and I start paying attention to some of the more beautiful, simple aspects of being alive:

-The way my dog never tires of playing fetch
-The way my friend Tom baked me my favorite dessert, a lemon merengue pie, from scratch
-The way my friends make me laugh
-The way the leaves dance in a cool breeze
-The way my sweetheart Carlo is so loving and dear
-The way my mother worries
-The way my brother in law's niece, last night at Thanksgiving, at 9 years old, had the idea to have everyone go around the room, stating what they were thankful for
-The rebrith in every moment

And of course, I am grateful to be me. I have multiple skills and jobs (and degrees) (but only one college loan left to payoff!). I live in a city and a country where I have more freedom than many to pursue my dreams, and anything can happen in an instant... and every day I fight the sense of nihilism that too much freedom of choice with a true sense of purpose can bring....

("Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."
-from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot)

I wrote a poem in response to this, one of my former favorite poems by Eliot, posted many years ago but which I will repost now, here:



 
The Love Song of E. Elizabeth Prufrock

 by Erin Elizabeth Muir

Amidst my avocations, distraction and demons,
and music, strains from another room.
Today the metamorphose is incomplete, and I have awakened as J. Alfred.
I am falling, again and again I am falling, you see,
and willfully, and against my will, an ancient pain,
sweetly, sensually, unrootable:
vines from a mobius strip wrapping round my body,
chains made of a flesh eating green, like a venus fly trap,
a nature, a desire. I want it. I fear it. It is me. It is he. It is all of us at once.

and words and words and words
and the poet sings
in dreams the message is perfect
but waking, she becomes ineffectual in her babel tower.
beautiful, and desirous, and possibly quite mad.

If ever I had known how to never
allow bitterness in my heart,
then I am child-like now, and so imagine my
shock at my own self-dismay,
as from all my shadows emerge, dusty, now dusting off the drapery,
the drudgery, engaging, on fire, a Demon.
like the brightest star that fell from the heavens,
plunging e’er deeper into the murky sludge, the far corners of paradise,
rising up now, the mists of eternity clearing way for that
truth greater than all facts and figures, the inhuman form
which whispering, places a single icicle of fear in my heart.

Oh, love! To be Juliet. To have died within moments of the first sweet lock,
to never know the other side of purity.
But I am not asleep, and nor am I awake.
I am breathless, I am all the breathing of the sky,
a billion stars shining in the heavens,
a single pebble on the sand.

No, I am no J. Alfred. Nor was meant to be.
And in the room, the girls giggle, talking of

nothing.

I am not walking on the beach, trousers rolled. I am not standing on the balcony, I am not sculpting David, I am not whimpering and I am not banging, I am singing-

I am singing!
 (Each to each.) Which means-
the mermaid-
is me.

ah, drawing breath again, do I dare to be a human?
Emerging from this sea of crystal thoughts, wearing a crown of anemone and kelp?
Do you see? These waves are your dreams,
and these pink shells are recompense for your hopes that washed away
where once you wrote them along the beach,
and these glistening pearls within are made rarer, truer, more valuable in your eyes.

If you say so, I will remove my fishy scales,
lay down my cerulean triton, and emerge
                                                           

a woman.

And if I say so, too, then the human voices waking us shall be our own.



(and it will have been worth it, and we will never know what we meant.)






END POEM.






So, yeah! I may be broke, but I can still find ways to eat well (careful planning!), see movies (free screenings thanks to The Wrap and the SAG Foundation!), hang out with friends (we go to each other's houses rather than bars or cafes!), see family (not really, but Skype!), and love life (look around for the beauty. Trust me, I share a birthday with David Foster Wallace, Nina Simone, and Anais Nin. I share their distress at the violence and hatred of humanity and their love of beauty and profundity, and if *I* can make it work, I know you can, too!)

The only question is how to bake Star Wars legos for my godson's birthday next week. Hmmm.... ;-p

XX

Monday, November 23, 2015

Music Mondays: November 23rd, revisiting some oldies but goodies

Hey, y'all!

It's Music Monday!

I know we all have Adele's new hit, "Hello," in our heads, and if you didn't see the SNL Thanksgiving sketch about it, do yourself a favor and watch it!

But if you're looking for some more goofy fun, here's a little treat from me, directed by Joshua Dragotta. It's a sort of weird, burlesque comedy interpretation of the wonderful song "Zip" from Pal Joey.... 

 
 


Until next time- I'm hard at work finishing my websites (www.worldoferin.com) and prepping in the studio to record some songs for my 2016 Challenge!


 
 

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Fiction Fridays, November 20th, 2015. The One, Version Two, Scenes 8, 9, 10, 11, and the End!

Good morning  y'all! Yup, it's Saturday. But since my 2016 Challenge hasn't quite yet begun, I forgive myself for being a day late! LOL. (Sorry! I was busy editing StandUpera, walking my dog, fixing my phone, writing a song for said challenge, going to hear my friend Jeremy Weinglass play a gig at Caufield's in Beverly Hills, watching The Knick, working on the hotline, and then writing more of that song for my challenge! I MEANT to get to Fiction Fridays, I really did, and this is a good lesson for me in first things should come first!)

So, unofficially officially since August, I've been publishing the monologues and the scenes from the second version of my first one woman show, titled, "The One." This one woman show was based in truth, but a lot of it was fictionalized, you know, for the sake of snappy storytelling. I borrowed some stories from my life, and then heightened them.

Anyway, Here are scenes 8, 9 and 10, plus what I did for Encores. This particular script was from my performance in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in June 2011; it became the script for subsequent performances until I wrote the screenplay version. Next week I'll post chapter by chapter the fiction book version of the screenplay. I'm very proud of the screenplay, but it's not really suitable for film yet, and far more enjoyable as a book, so you will be able to read it as a sort of fun tell all book.

Anyway, if you are a performer and you want to use one of these monologues, or a part of one of these monologues, have at it. If you film it, just credit me, please. Mmthanks.

During the Minneapolis performance, for the following scenes, I sang the songs:

Love Moves In Mysterious Ways by Dean Pitchford and Tom Snow
A Sleepin' Bee by Harold Arlen and Truman Capote (yes! Truman Capote!)
Lush Life by Billy Strayhorn
Sober by Erin Muir
Feeling Good by Anthony Newley and Leslie Briucusse

encores

La Vie En Rose by Louiguy
Black Butterfly by Erin Muir


 

Scene Eight


Beginning at stand CS

            I had just returned to my apartment in Los Angeles from a trip to Target. As I was unpacking water filters, coffee and toilet paper, my roommate asked me, “Have you ever been to the Furnace? No, not the one downstairs. The bar that’s like four blocks from here? Oh, Erin,” she said, “You should go. There are some cute guys there!!”

            She kept talking (make a puppet hand motion- yap yap yap) but for me, time stopped. Something was stirring deep inside me.

            “And also I noticed that you have left that book by the bathtub open to page 24 for weeks…. Erin? Erin? ERIN!?”

            “Sorry. Yeah. You’re right. We should go sometime.”

            One week later, we went. I felt so nervous walking in. I didn’t know why. Until I looked up just as the band was taking the stage. I saw him. His eye caught mine.

            I barely took my eyes off him the whole night. Linda left early, but not me. I stayed and listened and watched… and felt. It was as if I had met him before in a dream. I didn’t even know his name. But I knew his heart.

            At the end of the night, I went looking for him. Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that some other guy decided to hit on me. But I got rid of him fast by talking about what we would name our future children. Matilda, Horace, Stephanie and Hank.

            Next: Mission Find Hot Musician. I looked out and I saw his bandmate, smoking a cigarette (say it with subtext). Uh huh! I know. Where there’s one musician… there’s bound to be more. So I walked outside and introduced myself to his bandmate. And then, that stirring. I turned around.

            There he was. Leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, smiling at me with his dimples and his newsboy cap.

            “There you are,” I said!

            “There you are,” he said.

            I hated him for being so cute.

            His friend tried to introduce us.

            “This is Erin! Erin, this is…”

            “I know Erin.”

            His bandmate looked confused.

            “How do you know Erin.”

            “Eighth grade,” I lied.

            “And Erin had to run around with every guy but me.”

            “I only ran around with all those guys to make you jealous because you were always with that girl.”

            “Stephanie Martinez?”

            “Stephanie Martinez!”

            “Erin. She was meaningless. I was just using her to make you jealous.”

            His friend tipped his hat and left.

            “Now that we got that out of the way, can I get your number?”

            A while later, I had walked home as the moon blossomed. It was a warm June night, 2 am.

            My phone rang.

            “Hello,” I answered.

            He said, “I was gonna walk you to your car.”

            “You couldn’t walk me to my car, because I walked from home.”

            He said, “Then I was gonna walk you home.”

            “Where are you”

            “The bar is just closing.”

Opening chords to Love Moves in Mysterious Ways. STRETCH!

            So I got up, I got dressed, and I walked back to the bar so he could walk me home. And in those four blocks, we talked of cabbages and kings and everything we could pack into five minutes. Then we got to my house.

            “Here we are,” I said.

            And he said,

            “Here we are.”

WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT THIS IS HOW THE PIECES FIT
YOU AND I SHOULDN’T EVEN TRY MAKING SENSE OF IT
I FORGOT HOW WE EVER CAME THIS FAR
I BELIEVE WE HAD REASONS BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE
SO BLAME IT ON MY HEART, OH

LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
IT’S ALWAYS SO SURPRISING
WHEN LOVE APPEARS OVER THE HORIZON
I’LL LOVE YOU FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS
BUT STILL IT’S A MYSTERY
HOW YOU EVER CAME TO ME
WHICH ONLY PROVES
LOVE MOVES
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS….

HEAVEN KNOWS LOVE IS JUST A CHANCE WE TAKE
WE MAKE PLANS BUT THEN LOVE DEMANDS
A LEAP OF FAITH
SO HOLD ME CLOSE, NEVER EVER LET ME GO
‘CAUSE EVEN THOUGH WE NEED TO KNOW
WHICH WAY THE RIVER FLOWS
THAT’S NOT THE WAY LOVE GOES,
NO

LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
IT’S ALWAYS SO SURPRISING
WHEN LOVE APPEARS OVER THE HORIZON
I’LL LOVE YOU FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS
BUT STILL IT’S A MYSTERY
HOW YOU EVER CAME TO ME
WHICH ONLY PROVES LOVE MOVES
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

Instrumental under the following spoken:

            He leaned in to kiss me.

            “You’re something else,” he said.

            “So are you,” I said, as we leaned in and kissed again.

            A car honked.

            “Hey!”

            “I have to tell you something. My drummer is also my roommate and my ride home. I made him follow us two blocks behind….

            …. I think I’d better go.”

            He squeezed my hand and with that and those dimples, he jumped into the car.

            (Sigh.) Was he the one? The one from the prophecy? I don’t know- I couldn’t be sure. How can you ever know until you’re looking back, years later? They say hindsight is 20.20 and while some guys look great on paper- like Friedrich the German, or even Josh at the time- there’s no denying those stirrings in your heart-
Take mic off stand
Put stand behind you
Finish with mic in hand

 and you just have to follow- follow wherever it takes you-

LIKE THE TICKING OF THE CLOCK
TWO HEARTS BEAT AS ONE
BUT I NEVER UNDERSTAND THE WAY IT’S DONE
NO
LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
IT’S ALWAYS SO SURPISING
WHEN LOVE APPEARS OVER THE HORIZON
I’LL LOVE YOU FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS
BUT STILL IT’S A MYSTERY
HOW YOU EVER CAME TO ME
WHICH ONLY PROVES
LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS-
LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

… I couldn’t tell if he was THE ONE…. But I will tell you… as I turned to walk back into my apartment at 3 am, while the pigeons and doves were just beginning to coo their pre-dawn song… I turned to my front door and saw a SLEEPING BEE on the door knob….

            BAND plays a sort of WHISP of SLEEPIN BEE

OR ERIN SINGS….

                        WHEN A BEE LIES SLEEPIN
                        IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND….




SCENE NINE

            Love was about to take me somewhere I had never dreamed of.
           
            So, here was this love. This man I had dreamed of all my life. I had made that list, you know, all the qualities you want in a man: dark hair, green eyes, dimples, loves music and books and film, great kisser, poetic sensibility… loves wine... And of course, the prophecy…. and then…. my feeeeelings…. And if I could only begin to tell you the magic that started happening- you wouldn’t believe me, not even if we were all characters in a book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, or in a fairy tale, or in a dream, even. I kept discovering ways we could have met and connections we had going back 15 years….

            He was something special.

            And mostly, he was something special, because he became a mirror for something much more valuable than what that gypsy had said… or maybe she saw but couldn’t have said, because how would I have believed it?

            See, the thing is, I had never actually given myself tools for IF someone really truly special came along. None of my relationships had worked out partially because I started out believing in fantasy and fairy tale, and those things never worked really, so then I started becoming VERY comfortable with unrequited love. In fact, that was more comfortable than letting go of a certain amount of fantasy….

            Two unrequited romantics. And I really was in love… he was everything on that list.

            But on that list, when I said, “loves wine,” I did not think to add, not an alcoholic. When I said, loves music and has poetic sensibility, I did not think to add, is willing to grow relationship skills. Shows me my lack of faith in working relationships. Gives me honest feedback which I can hear openly.

            So sometimes, when normal dating things happened, along side the magic, but normal things, like, he wouldn’t call me for a few days… things would get really intense really fast between us and then he’d be gone for four days, and, I wouldn’t call him, because I was used to men chasing me…

            I’d get really freaked out.

            And I’d have a drink.

            And then he’d call, and we’d have this amazing date, and then I wouldn’t hear from him for a few days again, and then I’d have… half a bottle of bourbon.

            Well, take one summer, add the most romantic relationship you’ve ever had tempered by what was probably normal time apart, mix in one guy with his own bullshit to deal with, one girl with no tools for handling poetic fantasy in the “real” world… and free flowing booze… It wasn’t long before I was waking up having no idea where I was, what I had done the night before, with a message from my guy on my phone… saying… You’re a little too much for me… I think you’re great… but what’s happening here is getting a little out of hand for me…

            And by the fall, it was over…

OPENING CHORDS TO LUSH LIFE:

            While I speak:

            And although I knew I had not been perfect- and I was grown up enough to know, we could have had something great but sometimes the most magnetic love isn’t free to exist in a world full of addiction and rent and responsibility…

            I was broken. Not just heart broken. But broken. I had no desire left but for two things: him, which I could not have… and the other?


            I USED TO VISIT ALL THE VERY GAY PLACES
            THOSE COME WHAT MAY PLACES
            WHERE ONE RELAXES ON THE AXIS OF THE WHEEL OF LIFE
            TO GET A FEEL FOR LIFE
            FROM JAZZ AND COCKTAILS
            THE GIRLS I KNEW HAD SAD AND SULLEN GREY FACES
            WITH DISTINGUE TRACES
            THAT USED TO BE THERE YOU COULD SEE WHERE THEY’D
            BEEN WASHED AWAY BY TOO MANY THROUGH THE DAY
            TWELVE O’CLOCK TALES

            THEN YOU CAME ALONG WITH YOUR SIREN SONG
            TO TEMPT ME TO MADNESS-
            I THOUGHT FOR A WHILE THAT YOUR POIGNANT SMILE
            WAS TINGED WITH THE SADNESS
            OF A GREAT LOVE FOR ME
            AH YES, I WAS WRONG
            AGAIN, I WAS WRONG

            LIFE IS LONELY AGAIN, AND ONLY LAST YEAR
            EVERY THING SEEMED SO SURE
            NOW LIFE IS AWFUL AGAIN
            A TROUGH FULL OF HEARTS COULD ONLY BE A BORE
            A WEEK IN PARIS COULD EASE THE BITE OF IT
            ALL I CARE IS TO SMILE IN SPITE OF IT
            I’LL FORGET YOU, I WILL, WHILE YET, YOU ARE STILL
            BURNING INSIDE MY BRAIN

            ROMANCE IS MUSH, STIFLING THOSE WHO STRIVE
            SO I’LL LIVE A LUSH LIFE IN SOME SMALL DIVE
            AND THERE I’LL BE WHILE I ROT WITH THE REST
            OF THOSE WHOSE LIVES ARE LONELY TOO……






SCENE TEN:

            The one who showed courage.

            So…

            Do you ever have those moments where you got really drunk the night before and wake up totally ashamed?

            Let’s just say…

            I experienced this a few times. I may or may not have been crazy drunk doing the following things:

            playing baseball with jack o lanterns dressed as Marilyn Monroe…

            flirting with the icon for an Italian cigarette company… before realizing the ICON had left and I was flirting with some homeless guy instead…

            Insisting I was a professional samba player and bursting up on stage and playing drums with a Samba legend at Zinc, a famous jazz bar in New York…

            claiming to be the 2003 Scrabble World Champion and making people google it… and when they couldn’t find me, looking for Parker Brothers’ phone number and calling and filing a complaint….

            calling the FBI to report a missing m from the bag of m & ms, tan. Tan has been missing since 1996…

            flirting with my ex’s nemesis, the bartender at his club… in front of him…

            ignoring my ex. pissing him off and

            waking up the next morning to a voice mail that said,

            “Erin, Call me. I need to ask you a favor.”

            So… that had been the night before. And although I woke up in my room, fully clothed on top of my bed, piecing a recollection of the night before together… I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, the favor was… getting back together… maybe he was invited to a red carpet event and needed a pretty girl on his arm… maybe… he needed to borrow a cup of sugar?

            (Shakes head no.)

            No. Such. Luck.

            His favor?

            “Erin, hey. So, I’ve been clean and sober one week until last night. And I have no problem with you coming in and hearing me play. I have no problem with you hitting on other guys. Or having a drink. But watching you get plowed. And flirting with my enemies… and my friends… THAT. I have a problem with.”

            Speaking of moments of clarity. How could I have turned something so beautiful into something so textbook, cliché, pathetic, ruined?

OPENING CHORDS TO SOBER:

            WELL IT TURNS OUT I’M A DRINKER
            LET’S ADD IT TO THE LIST
            SEX AND BOOZE AND DRUGS AND BEIN’ SICK
            WHAT A SHOCK TO DISCOVER
            I’VE BEEN HURTIN’ EVERYBODY
            WHO’S EVER LOVED ME
            WITH PITY AND DRAMA AND BAD RELATIONSHIPS

            WELL I DIDN’T KNOW
            AND I STIL DON’T KNOW

            BUT I WILL REACH UP MY HANDS AND ASK THE MORNING SKY
            FOR A LITTLE BIT OF SUNLIGHT IF I PROMISE TO TRY
            I WON’T KEEP IT IN, I’LL GIVE MY LIGHT TO YOU
            STAND UP FOR MYSELF, OH LOVELY OLD WORLD
            THANK YOU

            WELL, I SING THIS PSALM,
            FOR ANYONE LISTENING
            BECAUSE A DEEP QUIVER OF LIGHT
            RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS
            WHAT I HAVE TO GIVE,
            AND WHAT YOU HEAR
            WOULD YOU TAKE IT, AND KISS IT,
            AND HOLD IT DEAR-

            WELL GOD MAKE IT USEFUL
            GOD MAKE IT USEFUL, OH PLEASE,

            AND I WILL HOLD UP MY HANDS AND ASK THE MORNING SKY
            FOR A LITTLE BIT OF SUNLIGHT IF I PROMISE TO TRY
            I WON’T KEEP IT IN, I’LL GIVE MY LIGHT TO YOU
            STAND UP FOR MYSELF, OH LOVELY OLD WORLD
            THANK YOU
            THANK YOU












SCENE ELEVEN:

            The One:

            So… A lot has happened since then. But to sum it all up, mostly, I discovered the common denominator in my world of love troubles was.... well....

            Here we are. The moment of truth. I will reveal who “the one” really is…

            (points to self.)

            After all, I was the one who saw the bee. I was the one who looked for all the markers of an amazing love life and let it take me through bands and jobs and different countries and different learning experiences… I think it’s a better use of dreams to look for where a prophecy takes you- all a reflection of my self- and to see who I am, again and again, and like it, or, at least, learn from it- THAT’S  a life worth living, prophecy, no prophecy, or prophecy of my own invention.

            There are a lot of different kinds of relationships you will have in a life, but ultimately, the most important relationship you have is the one you have with yourself.
           
Quirky, too much, crazy, dramatic… amazing, peace-seeking, loving, healing… SELF.

            And if you find someone, or many someones, or a few someones, to love that SELF, well, enjoy. But never lose sight of the ONE person you will be with all your life: YOU.

            I know I finally have learned to embrace that beautiful wonderful one… and what has it given me?

OPENING CHORDS TO FEELIN’ GOOD

More than I could have ever hoped for:


BIRDS FLYING HIGH, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
SUN IN THE SKY, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
BREEZE DRIFTING ON BY, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME, YEAH
IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME, OOOOH

AND I’M FEELIN’ GOOD!

FISH IN THE SEA, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
RIVER RUNNIN FREE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
BLOSSOM ON THE TREE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME,
AND I’M FEELIN’ GOOD!

DRAGONFLY OUT IN THE SKY, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, DON’TCHA KNOW?
BUTTERFLIES ALL HAVING FUN, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN
SLEEPIN’ PEACE WHEN DAY IS DONE, THAT’S WHAT I MEAN
AND THIS OLD WORLD IS A NEW WORLD AND A BOLD WORLD FOR ME

STARS WHEN YOU SHINE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
SCENT ON THE PINE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
OH, FREEDOM IS MINE!
AND I KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN
IT’S A NEW DAY
IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME

AND I’M FEELIN GOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!



Thank you, so much, ladies and gentlemen, for being here!!!!!! This is a work in progress, and so is my show! haha. Just kidding. We all know life is a work in progress. I’d like to say thanks to _______ and (Venue) for having me, to _____ for running sound, to Lizzy for suggesting me here in the first place! I’d like to thank all my ex boyfriends for shaping me into the woman I am, and all my friends for all their boxes of condoms…..uh, tissues. Thanks to (introduce band) and thanks to my family for putting up with me.

OH, FREEDOM IS MINE!
AND I KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN
IT’S A NEW DAY
IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME

AND I’M FEELIN GOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!




Fin           

IF THERE IS AN ENCORE:

LA VIE EN ROSE
            (Charts)

BLACK BUTTERFLY
            (Charts)

FIN