Red Out Loud

Ignore-ance

2009-09-29T18:19:00.003-04:00

I am doing it. I am running away. I am quitting my job, I am going to Africa, I am going to have surgery on my vocal chords one last time, I am going to have no money and no job and I am going to go back to school to learn how to help other people. I feel I can do it all. All of a sudden.

When I told my mother that I was definitely having surgery and that this time I would take my recovery seriously, I assured her I would. And I got boiling mad. Inside of course. I did not let her know. There is no point. My mother quivers in fear when it comes to life she does not know. She is always questioning my decisions unless they are in line with hers. Ignorance I call it. And I am ignoring it.

I also know that she is not wrong. I have picked things up, talked worlds about them and then dropped them. I have done this. The last time I had surgery on my vocal cords, I was back at it again in no time. Drinking, smoking, treating my health and body badly.

This time it feels different. I feel like I am changing my life, my life style, my life choices and I am ready to recover. I am ready to do the things I am afraid to do. The things I am afraid to be good at. And I firmly believe that there is no reason to not be as good as you are.

Just because something does not happen overnight, does not mean it will never happen at all.

Maybe I am being Ignorant.

But I am going to ignore that possibility for now.

wanna hear something funny...

2009-09-25T23:41:00.002-04:00

After all this, I miss my voice and myself. I am applying to grad schools in social work. My friend Scott said, wow, that is so not you. He is right. I told him the truth is, I want to pursue my voice again. I want to do what it takes to make it sing musicals again, the way it used to. I want to act and sing again. I have been sabotaging myself since I injured my cords the first time and I am spent. I have wasted 6 years treating myself like shit. I want it back. I am 28 and I want it back. I am told, 28, is not so old. Why will I spend my day tomorrow applying to school. Because I want to keep my life logical. I want to appease my parents and I am incredibly interested in human beings and the psychosocial dynamic. that is actually the truth. But what do I want. I want to sing. I want my voice to be the easiest part of me again. I want to achieve what I have convinced myself is the impossible, cause its not. I want.

9:19 am

2009-09-11T09:18:00.002-04:00

It was 8 years ago at this minute that my mother called my cell, woke me up on my only late class day of the week and told me to get out of my dorm room twin sized bed and look out my over sized window. There they were, running for their lives. The television went on, the footage repeated the actions that had happened less then an hour ago. The world changed, Manhattan changed and it felt like my surroundings turned in circles for days following. My thoughts are with those who lost loved ones, those who volunteered their hands, time and lives on that day and even to those who were too shocked to figure out how.

Please forgive....

2009-08-05T16:22:00.002-04:00

I forgive you. Is that weird, because I mean it. I mean it because I feel happy for you. I mean it because forgiving you means happiness for me. Relief. I want to listen to music again. I want to wake up early again. I want to be close to new people. I want to run into you. To smile in your direction and say hello.

I don't know where it stems from other then the idea that maybe people who hurt one another are not to blame, but to be understood as an experience to be had, towards your own truth, something to hold onto and then just let go of, something to appreciate for whatever the experience brought to you, good or bad.

I am not angry anymore and I don't feel bad about it either, none of it, just that we lowered ourselves to the level we did and lost our friendship along the way. My only regret. Don't think we can ever get it back, but at least would hope that the next time I see you, with her, we can tip our hats to one another, and say remember when...only the good parts, of course.

2009-07-31T15:56:00.002-04:00

I am having a very hard time concentrating today. I am not sure that Friday should even exist as a day wherein which we should be expected to concentrate. But then I wonder if Thursday would take Friday's place.

The speakers on my computer have been broken since December. And for some reason it has not been a top priority of mine to get them fixed. My computer has no more memory on it, so I have never been able to sync my iphone to my computer and that means my iphone does not have any music on it. I got my iphone in December. Since December, essentially, I have been relegated to Pandora. On my computer at work and on my iphone. I have not listened to the music that makes me happy since December. I work in music. Music is supposedly my passion.

Supposedly.

But here I am again, watching my passion for something slowly wane. And I think it really is indicative of the fact that it is time for a change in my life.

Change has always scared me. Taking care of myself has scared me a bit too. I like to glide along, uninterrupted. My lifestyle indicates that I appreciate challenge and some adventure, but the truth is I have not moved much in my life.

Or maybe I have and not paid attention. That is my fear, that I have spent my formative years, my adult formative years, that is, not really paying much attention to my changes, to my growth and to the process. And here I am at the end of this era. I have had many experiences but not much to show for it, except for lists of outlandish experiences. Sometimes my friends tell me my life is like a movie, that they wish they would take a minute to write it all down. Mostly because I am impulsive, I do what I want when I want to do it without thinking of much consequence, at least within the confines of the tri state area.

I know a million people, I am popular, people know who I am when I walk into a room. People think I can help them, they think I am important. I must have succeeded in a way then. But is it really what is important? And why do I always want to run away from what ever it is I have found.

Like now.

I am ready to change again, but this time for good. I am going to go back to school. I want to be a Doctor now. I want to be a psychologist. And when I make the move, I make it for good. It is not a profession you can do and try and do everything else you want to do at the same time. The pattern I have created for myself up until now. It is also something you don't just up and walk away from.

Do I get upset about it? Leaving part of me behind? Does this change who I am inherently. I know, intellectually, that the answer is, no. It does not. But it feels a bit like it will. Like I am graduating from a period of my life. Should that be shocking? That is how we spend the early part of our lives, graduating from one era to the next. I see people from eras gone by and can not remember their names. I am also infamous for carrying eras over into the new ones. Will I do this this time around? Or will I walk around in 6 years forgetting the names of people who were integral in a moment of my life.

I mean that is what it is. A moment. Of my life. You have one life full of lots of moments, experiences, coincidences and because I continue to live it on my own, I can really jump in and out of different ones.

My father feels bad for me when I tell people that I used to be a singer. USED to be, I say, now I am something else. Maybe he is right to writhe when I say that. Maybe it is wrong to suggest that one moment can not carry into the next. I will always feel like I never really succeeded though. Like I did not achieve what it is I thought about when I was a little girl, fingers and toes crossed, eyes pinched shut dreaming, daytime and night time. That was one part of me I did not think would have its era, opening and closing. That should have lasted forever. But it didn't, just like nothing else does.

Will love be the same for me. Just eras running into one another, nothing long lasting? Nothing consistent?

I don't know. I can not predict it. I don't even know what will happen to me 5 minutes from now. But I do know no matter what in 5 minutes I won't be exactly the same as I am right now, so I don't know why change really stares me in the face,, full of fear.

The one that got away that keeps coming back....

2009-07-20T12:09:00.007-04:00

Maybe if I write about it, I will be less afraid of it. I spend a lot of my empty thought time trying to figure out what went wrong for us. I have these perplexing, Homer Simpson style, "doh!" moments, literally smacking my forehead in disbelief. We've been friends for so long, family friends, friends of friends, "beneficial" friends-as the story goes. When I am with you I feel at ease, when I think about you I get a stomach ache. Yet I have broken your heart and truthfully you have been one of the many to put a dent in mine. Though years have passed. Sometimes I sit at my desk, look at my computer screen and wonder why the hell I don't jump the next train to DC. Sometimes the only thing stopping me is Charley (my puppy). Then I get lost in my life and forget about it all, lost in my circle of friends who mean nothing to me, lost in my doubts that our life together would be 100% perfect. Not that anything is ever 100% perfect.

I want to let you know that when we tried last time to put our selves together I freaked out. I just did. It felt manipulated, it felt fake. It was not that I did not feel for you, I just felt like we were trying too hard. I am afraid to be loved like that. I am afraid to let someone be nice to me. I am also afraid to try and start our relationship from scratch, because it's not scratch, it is 20 years long. Childhood into adult childhood.

My first image of you is your boxer short clad figure, dancing across your sisters room singing the Lion Kings version of "In the Jungle." You mooned me when I was in the sixth grade, cornered me in your parents bedroom while your sister begged you to stop. I blushed and I still do as I retell. I remember high school, your long hair, how beautiful you thought your high school female best friend was, how much you liked her, but you never got her, how jealous it made me, even then. Our trips out west with our parents and siblings, to Israel. The trip our families took to Africa, the last trip where our friendship maintained innocence and allure, the last time I could look at you, love you from afar, keep it close to me and to nobody else, flirt with you, watch you, wonder about you.

The next summer you took me, we took each other, right in our parents houses, a house to house escapade that lasted quite a while. One of the hottest, most exciting, most dangerous things I had done, I was 19 and you were 22, over ten years into our journey. And it sealed it for me. I wanted you. But you lived in California, you were young and you had your dreams at arms reach, you were busy and you were far away. I did not think you saw me like that, maybe you did and maybe you did not, but it seemed unrealistic, so we went about our lives. You visited often and a lot of the time you stayed with me. Our friends, our siblings, they knew, it made them uncomfortable, it made one of them envious and I got drunk enough to sleep with him too, hoping to make you jealous. It didn't work. We persisted, started and stopped and started again. You would catch me when I fell, every time, without fail. You gave me the strength to leave my first serious relationship, then you moved to NY and fell into one of your own. I dated your friend instead. And tug of war continued. You filled up my mind, I think I filled up yours.

Then I found Adam and Kyle and eventually Dean. And I loved these men and forgot about you. Or buried you. After Kyle you came around, you thought it made sense, so we should try it and it felt unnatural to me and I walked away without an explanation. Even explaining it to you felt too vulnerable. It has never been the same. Not since then. So many moments through the tumult that was Dean I looked at you and wondered why I did not fall your way. I still wonder.

I think I am scared that we have a future. That it could be real, that it could be ridden with happiness and sadness alike, that we are able to spend real time together, that life might get hard and ruin us. Our life's passions have ignited and burned out, they have singed us each and we don't know where we are headed, professionally, but we'd have each other. It scares me to be with someone who does not seem happy in their pursuits, it scares me because it reflects me. I am afraid to sleep with you again, I am afraid it will be bad and more afraid it will be great. I am uncomfortable with the comfort. Pain is simpler then ease for me. It has been for a long time.

And this consumes me. Every day, the wonder. But I have no one to talk to about it, its been talked about. Our families, our friends have all been witness and if we were to do it all again, it would have to be just us in it this time. Alone together. And that scares me too. It will have to come from me this time, I know that for sure, you have given up, but I can see it when you look at me and feel it when you touch me. And I fear I am racing against time.

And I hate losing.

As far as you can throw

2009-07-10T01:10:00.002-04:00

I know that you think about it too, about us, about why you did not take to me, about how it would have been better if you did. I want to help you, I care about you, I care about your happiness. I am here, I am listening, I always have. I can't help but tell you the truth abut how I think things should be. I wish you could see what I see, what other people see. I wish you could see me. Why is love always uneven, why is it a different experience for everyone, why are people only happy when they are unsatisfied, why is satisfaction so frightening to people. When does it feel right, when do you give in, when do you settle for what you thought was not for you?

boy and girl

2009-05-17T10:11:00.002-04:00

Someone please explain this phenomenon to me. Boy digs girl, boy watches girl from afar, boy comes on to girl, girl responds with positive feedback, boy and girl kiss, girl makes effort with boy who she otherwise would not have noticed, boy freaks out. Girl wonders why. Boy tells girl that he never thought girl would like boy back. Boy walks away from it. Girl is left wondering. Had boy never opened the can to begin with, girl would not feel so bad. Girl kicks herself for falling for the attention and not the boy, because then girl would not feel so bad and boy would not be so freaked out.

Cry baby

2009-05-08T15:01:00.003-04:00

Adele sang here at Canal Room on Wednesday night. Then I went over to Rockwood Music Hall and hosted the monthly series I do there for Rebel Spirit Music, my friend Greg Holden played- he is wonderful. Then I went home and watched American Idol eliminations. What an array of musical experiences. And the one that made me most emotional was, ironically, the last one. It is strange, I am not really THAT into American Idol, I think it is a bit cheesy, no matter how I try I can not help but see the artists as sell outs, skipping the road dog days for instant success, selling their dreams of originality for money and fame and so on. I watch it to keep up with how low the standards have reached in our dying industry. But this season, this girl, this young thing, Alison Iraheta, she could sing and she had this innocence about her that was addictive, her voice just did not seem to match her naivete, her youth. And it was special. When she was voted off, not that being 4th place on American Idol is a sad spot to be in, she cried, but she cried for joy, maybe that was it, as though she could appreciate the moment for just what it was, the experience for just what it meant and all that had led up to this for her. It is only the beginning, of course, but I envied her. Not for what lies ahead, not for singing a pretty rough cover of Janis Joplin's "Cry Baby," certainly not for the poorly died red hair she has, but for her ability to enjoy the moment.

I don't think I ever do that. I am not sure I ever did that. I always wanted to know what was next. I never appreciated my time, never thought it was good enough, I guess. I just wanted to be bigger. I feel bad about that. Because I am turning 28, I have had fabulous experiences and I have not valued them enough to even carry a camera around and save snap shots. Have always waited to get doubles from friends, tags on facebook, snapfish album invites from others. It is like a lack of commitment. The ability to commit is enviable and it's also vulnerable. Which makes it scary.

The only thing I stick to shooting is my cute dog. She is the farthest thing from scary, and she certainly won't ever turn away, so maybe that makes it easier to stick to it.

text sex

2009-05-01T19:17:00.002-04:00

never done it. The lady sitting next to me sure has, or is having it. Or is having text foreplay of some sort. All I know is her text ring is rihanna and the "texts" she's having is good. I've been text foreplaying with my latest victim who is out on the road in Cali somewhere playin his drums. Another non prospect. But at least he calls me beautiful in text and in person. And I can tell the foreplay will be worth it.

I'm mobile!

2009-05-01T19:02:00.002-04:00

I have managed enough free time on my hands to figure out this whole blog on the go phenom! And now I can kill time on my busride home to new jersey! Woo hoo! I just switched my seat. I was next to a woman who would not stop fanning herself! And I do not need to be fanned. Her 50+ years indicated her hot flash might mean otherwise. Or she was just trying to get rid of me. Either way it worked and here I am!

Have I mentioned yet that I'm thinking of heading to Malawi for two months this winter. Well I have not told many folks. It sounds a lot luke something I say I'll do bet never end up doing. Only I appear to Be following the steps. I have the cause, the organization and a meeting with my potential partner volunteer!

I can't imagine letting canal room know. I feel as though they will feel betrayed and I don't know how to follow through. I also have no idea where I'll go when I return? I do know at this point I feel a touch worthless, as though my job provides nothing to not grateful people (aka selfish, struggling artists). I'd like to do more. Who knows if self or selfless reward I'm searching for. But I know I want more.

Helpless

2009-05-01T17:09:00.004-04:00

Songs attach themselves to the people you spent them with. It's fact. Very few people listen to music for the tonal inflections and for the drum quality, for example. I mean they do, but there is always more. Like sense of smell, sense of hearing reminds you of the moment attached to it. And songs take up space in your life at different times, so while there might be a song you attached to goodness one time, it may turn to a song you attach to badness at another time, depending of course on how life panned out.

Neil Young sings with ease, his sweet tenor quivers and his lyrics are indicative of his youth spent toiling for his craft, far from home and fearless, at that. My father used to play Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young on our car trips. He always had great taste in music and was not shy about singing along. It was my introduction to the music of songwriters I would later in life continue to appreciate and at a much deeper level try to emulate, in craft and in lifestyle.

I had never seen the Last Waltz, I had no idea who Robbie Robertson, though I knew The Band, I had no idea they accompanied Bob Dylan at a time, nor did I know they gathered musicians together to create a show that would go down in history. A show chock full of artists known all over the world, timeless and attached. No one ever told me about Joni Mitchell's many lovers or about Patti Boyd and George Harrison and then Eric Clapton. I knew the songs, but not the stories.

When I met Dean I could hold my own at least in terms of our musical tastes, but he knew so much more about these songs, these stories, he knew the facts. And he shared them, compulsively of course. Books, talks, records, movies all about this generation of music.

When I hear the song Helpless by Neil Young, or any song from that genre, I am forced to remember and admit, that most of what I know now, like where the Big Pink is and who the Kinks are and why Rod Stewart is more then his hair and the song "Forever Young," is thanks to Dean. He doesn't remember the good times. Maybe he does. Most of the time I don't. At the end, when we hated, he always, over and over, let me know we never listened to music enough. He was wrong or he was lying, normal for him. He knew as well as I that music was what we shared, it WAS our relationship, it was our love.

Regardless, he has left me helpless, I hardly listen to music anymore, unless my boss spins tunes on Pandora, unless I am at a show I feel like I have to be at. It bothers me. I am a musician, I am a music person and I grew up with it in my ears, in my car, in my home. I don't know if its part of the mourning process or what is indicated in the fact that when I do listen to music now its off a list on my itunes that Dean actually created for me.

What am I holding on to? It is not really him. He is worthless, he is not who I loved, but he did represent what I wanted to love and then what I slowly started to hate. Maybe my stopping to sing, to listen to music is directly related to the loss of my voice, directly in conjunction with the rise and fall of Dean and I. Maybe that is it, maybe it's not.

I guess I will have to recondition myself with music. It is likely the same for love. Maybe my music gravitation will return when I figure out how to gravitate towards love. When I am willing to lie helpless in someone else's world, not just their music world, but their lives, my life, there arms and my arms. Maybe then I will listen to James Taylor's "Carolina in my mind," with a smile and without fear. Maybe then.

Never gonna give you up

2009-04-16T11:19:00.006-04:00

It is odd as women how we put the angst we have towards our exes on the new women they date. Like somehow it is the new girls fault that the ex boyfriend is such an asshole. In my case, I feel this to the extreme, because, I feel everything to the extreme.

But in my case, I am right, because, I am always right.

Ok, enough of that.

Dean was an inherently bad person, he is an inherently bad person, but I continued to go back and forth, probably because it kept my otherwise boring life, unboring. I think a lot of people do that, stick with the people they are dating because loneliness is just sheer boredom. I know this, because I am living this way now. I am bored. And perhaps that is why I fill my empty thought space with mean thoughts about Dean's new girlfriend Cara (who he already cheated on with me 4 weeks ago, but I suppose that is non essential).

Instead of living in disbelief that Dean could be such an asshole to keep dating this chick after trying desperately to get back together with me, sending me 25 e mails straight of pictures of us together when we were happy, telling me that this Cara dirt bag slut (SEE THERE IS THE ANGST) was boring and bad in bed, who knows why I listened to that, instead of hating Dean for that I live in disbelief that he has chosen this girl. For some reason I just hate her.

She is not a bad person, but she is young, and she has a bad nose job, apparently 3 times over, her hair is pixie short, none of these qualities make a bad person, of course, I can be reasonable, but its the way she walks into a room with him, like she won some kind of prize. The way she flirts, friendly flirts, but flirts, with every man in the room and brings along only uglier then her so she can feel better about herself. Anyway, I hate her. She also INSISTS on engaging me in one way or another and I ignore her, my new philosophy is to ignore people I do not want to talk to. No more fake! Then instead of taking the hint, that I find her abhorrent, she tries to talk to me, without fail and the other day she tapped my shoulder to get my attention. EWW.

I almost turned around and looked at her and said, please refrain from touching me, you have a really bad nose job and your boyfriend has already cheated on you with me only to return to you when I rejected his advances to try and get back together.

Instead I just said "oh, hi, how are you." And turned around. I was with two friends from London who were visiting and thought it the polite way to be.

Then I proceeded to chat with Dean in front of her to show her who was boss here. And the thing of it is, that I do not find him attractive, I am not in love with him, I am just still so angry at him and making her uncomfortable made him uncomfortable and it made me really, really happy!

It is a little sick. The thing of it is, that I actually just hate her because she is still in the dark about Dean. She still thinks he is good. She still hears his words and takes them as truth. She gets to think he is just the Cat's Pajamas. Which he is not.

Living in the dark, even living in denial is more comforting then admitting reality or being faced with reality head on. I don't know why I can't give it up though. Why do I care? Why do I keep holding on?

It ignites the fiercest anger in me and the fiercest resent. Two of my least favorite feelings.

update

2009-04-15T10:26:00.002-04:00

Charlotte home from vet, 10:27 am, Vitamin K in hand along with two other expensive medications, making my morning a $413 morning! Woo hoo. She looks to be fine and has pooped not once, but twice today! Fast asleep on the couch, surely still reveling in her victory!

And the irony....

Just as we were leaving the vet a quite normal looking woman walked in with a carrying case full of her rat, who had just eaten licorice. If only my dog had eaten a licorice.

Motherhood.

A dog of a different story

2009-04-14T23:09:00.002-04:00

I adopted a pit bull almost 4 months ago. It was an impulsive decision, as all of my decisions are. It was the right decision for me. It was fate, at a time when fate was not working out as intended, not that one can intend fate. Charlie was 8 pounds when I found her, she was beautiful, small, vulnerable with a permanently furrowed brow and she was all one color, her coat, her eyes and her nose are a reddish, light brown. She had an intense gaze, I picked her up in my arms, she licked my face and I looked at the shelter owner, Robert, and said "I really don't have the right lifestyle for a puppy." He looked at me flat in the face and said, "come on, do it, dogs are not that much work." He was dead wrong, but he was right too, he knew, like cupid knows when a lover has met his match, that I had met my fate. This dog was meant for me.

...I started this post about an hour ago and since then my dog has ingested a dead rat. This was going to be a loving ode to the being that changed my life, instead I sit here deliberating, do I shell out $500 to get a vet to make my dog throw up, do I give her bydrogen peroxide to make her throw up, do I cross my fingers and assume the paper thin, flattened out, 5 days dead rat probably died by car and not by poison? An hour later it probably makes no sense for me to make her throw up, spend $500 for someone else to make her throw up. All I have left to do is wait it out. And so I will wait it out.

Let me tell you what NEVER to do in this situation, google. Google leads to severe paranoia and will inevitably be the reason for my sleepless night. That and the fact that I own a dog who would likely eat shit and find it a delicacy. I have no idea. Am I bad mother for allowing this to sit for 24 hours? Should I run to the vet with her in my arms? She is a pit afterall and not that small either. I assume she should be fine.

My parents never got worried when I got sick. The reality of being a doctors daughter is that nothing is ever really that bad if its not brain surgery related. And I wonder if I get my lax attitude from them. My mom never carried tissues in her pocket, my father never thought it was worth skipping school due to sickness. I called him on the phone just now and told him that my dog swallowed a rat whole and he said, eh- wait it out, the chances it was poisonous are slim to none. Just like that. And then suggested that I keep rats out of her diet for the next few days.

I love my dog. It scares me that I have this responsibility, but in a way, that was the point. I wanted to give myself something to love more then myself, that I would have to commit to and follow through on, unlike so much else in my life....and here we are today, on my couch, she is snoozing and I am wondering at which part of her digestive tract does this rat lay, and I mean tail and all.

And of course, what does this entire experience highlight. The fact that I am alone. I am all alone. Are you supposed to take care of a dog alone? I always envisioned this kind of project one I would do with a partner and accepting this on my own was this understated, or overstated as the case may be, submission to the thought that perhaps there would be no partner for me in the end. That perhaps, something like this, would be something I would have to do on my own.

Thinking back I should have just stuck my hand in there and pulled that rat out, i just could NOT handle the thought of touching it. I am so worried about this.

another day

2009-04-13T23:26:00.002-04:00

I am drunk and I thought I would write in the moment. I cant believe that Heidi even would put Spencer in therapy, can a therapist really change a man who is just all wrong? I remember when Dean suggested we go to therapy, and we were already in trouble because he was already pathologically cheating on me. Therapy, what does it really do. I met a boy on Saturday night, I am sure it was nothing, but he was awfully nice to my brothers and I have a photo of him looking at me like he meant it. I don't know. He is hot.

Write more tomorrow.

28 Years ago

2009-04-13T13:40:00.004-04:00

I always know when it has set in. Food starts to taste different. I can't swallow it. My head is heavy and it takes my hand an extra long time to grab the receiver of the phone and my mouth falls behind my voice in mouthing the words, "hello?" I can feel my heart beating. I smoke cigarettes, I lose weight, I sit on my couch a lot, I stop talking to my friends, I can't finish anything I start. I start watching movies constantly, so I can pretend I am somebody else. I'm depressed, I guess. Usually precedes a big change or follows a traumatic experience. Or is just the day after I run into Dean. Or I work a job I really don't want to. Or I realize I have been in the same place for too long. Or I hear another musician that just is not good enough and wonder how the world will turn out altogether. Nothing is really how it was. Nothing is really how it is going to be. Nothing is kind of uncomfortable.

1981 is about to turn into 28 years ago.

UGH.

?!#$%

2009-04-12T22:36:00.002-04:00

All we can remember is what tore us both us apart
Instead of what's forgotten at the bottom of our hearts
Smiles filled the silences and laughter filled the sound
And everyday was more important when you were around.

Citizens of Humanity

2009-04-01T11:28:00.002-04:00

Red Out Loud had a nightmare about being fat last night. She dreamed that being between a size 4 and 6 was just not acceptable. She dreamed that this number defined her. She dreamed this and woke up depressed feeling unloved, minus her puppy that she was comfortably spooning.

Why do you think size, weight, looks, so often define the way a woman feels about herself? I mean, should we not, by now, in our later 20's, recognize that it is what is on the inside that counts? It is funny for me, my weight fluctuates frequently, generally with my mood. Because I take certain things to heart, my body reacts, nerves make me nauseaus, sadness makes me crave, anger makes me stop. My weight never fluctuates because I think I should look a certain way. It is always just a natural reaction to something that is happening to me.

Right now in my life, I can admit, I am uneasy, however nothing is happening to me and my weight, after losing so much of myself in Dean, has reached its normal number. And somehow it is the only thing on my mind. I feel fat, but I know I am not and if I was, I know there would be nothing wrong with it. Regardless. I am a size 2. I am 5'3. I am tiny. I have never been called otherwise. Yet, its on my mind.

And as I obsess about it, what to eat that day, what not to eat, as I stare at my body, unclothed, in the mirror, I think, this must be about something else. I must be worrying about something else, or many things, it can not literally be my appearance.

I hope I put my finger on it soon, actually, I hope I squash whatever it is with my whole palm. I never want to have a dream about my weight again. It is a waste of my quietest hours, dreams should fill with my greatest ideas, hopes, desires, even my fears. Not some issue that really is just the top of a casket full of the heart of the matter.

How do you grow from a nightmare about your jean size?

The O of the XOXO

2009-03-29T23:18:00.003-04:00

I have this strange ability to love the person I am with in the moment I am with them. And then the moment they are gone, the connection is gone and I can find another moment with another person just as easily. But I could swear in those moments, the feelings are real. And I mean, this is actually impossible, because many of those moments, seeing as I have experienced many, many moments, are with people I really hardly share words with. Perhaps its just my mistaking sexual intimacy with something emotional.

This guy I barely know slept over on Friday night. We have shared maybe 10 sentences tops between one another, but he is very hot and somehow his quiet demeanor extends a sense of intimacy to those he actually pays attention to. He is a drummer. Go figure. I hardly know anything about him, all I know is there is an intensity to him and after a bunch of grey goose on the rocks/splash sodas/two limes I suppose I felt comfortable eough exploring that. So we drank. We did not talk much, he followed me home to meet my dog and then he got in my bed and slept over. Body to body, feet to feet. And he wrapped his arms around me. A more intimate action then perhaps putting himself inside of me. I mean, wrapped arms around a body indicate protection, knowing, familiarity, there is no orgasm at the end, its literally an innately comforting and close feeling. So there we were, holding one another. No sex, just closeness. He stayed the morning as well. There was some fumbling, nothing major, just a body next to a body. Heating up my bed, making me feel warm.

And then he left. Hardly a goodbye and hardly a regret.

And it worked. My stress subsided just for a moment, because I got my fill. But I was held again later that day by Andrew, my neighbor/lover/locksmith/bug killer. And we have more to share, of course, we have been dancing in circles for 5 months now, but still, when it comes down to it, we hold each other. And that is it.

So my real question lies in the odd sense that people, in this city, have an impossible time figuring out how to hold one another in the figurative sense. We can jump from bed to bed feeling the intimacy of an embrace, however, we lack consistency and emotional outpour. It all lies in this open ended body locking, warm and gushy, temporary embrace.

I wonder if I was cuddled too much as a baby, or something.

Today, I walked Charlotte past her best buds Nico and Titan. Titan jumped on his hind legs to embrace me and Charlotte quickly nipped him away. I suppose not EVERY being is ok sharing his or her embrace-er. If anyone should want me all to themselves it should at least be my puppy.

Touch Me.

2009-03-21T19:51:00.003-04:00

I wonder how many people's skin has touched mine. When you are born, right from the birth canal, you are caught, rubber glove to skin and then your mother holds you, skin to skin and the barrier is broken. You've been touched. Then for the rest of your life it is your prerogative to decide who, when, why someone touches you. Or is it? And when it stops being your prerogative does the novelty of touch just die?

There are all kinds of touch, the kind that feels comfortable, the kind that feels exciting, the kind that hurts, the kind that is dangerous.

I wonder what kind of touch has changed me more.

Lost and Lost again.

2009-03-20T14:11:00.002-04:00

Lee thinks I should make a new record. He says I am better then all the other girls singing written songs out there. I am trying to hear him, but it bounces of my eardrum right back to him. Like a light my passion turned off. Sometimes I close my eyes real tight and inside the blackness I see the yellow walls of my childhood bedroom and I hear the karaoke stereo blaring and my stomach drops the way it did when I would sing the high notes, the low notes and the notes in between. My cheekbones tingle a little. And as if my mind reverts its not the sound that I hear but the dreams I remember having. The restless nights of sleep with my kicky legs in action thinking to myself, when will it be my turn? I gotta get out of here.

Then I lost my voice and did not try too hard to get it back. So it's gone. TTYL.

Today my friend told me that her friend had to have her uterus removed. And selfishly, the first thing I thought about was what I would say if I was her friend. And I could just picture myself looking up and saying, "I am losing my womanhood and am not even able to sing about it."

Loss is uncontrolled and that is what makes it so aggressively painful.

No Way Jose

2009-03-20T13:25:00.002-04:00

You helped to take away the innocence of a love I lost and I am supposed to rejoice in the new love you found.

I don't think so.

A Nightmare

2009-03-19T11:53:00.002-04:00

With the surface of the water far above my head and the strength of the tide getting stronger, I pull and grasp, but to no avail. The weighted rope tied to my ankle gets heavier and it pulls me down. My dress flows aimlessly around me and bits are lit by the sun that peaks through the glass top of this enclosed sea. I can't reach it, though. I keep pushing and pulling and reaching and screaming silently, to no avail. Until my hands can't reach any more, they drop to my sides and I float aimlessly. Wishing. He would just let me go.

Ouch

2009-03-19T10:49:00.002-04:00

My stomach hurts again. But I am ignoring it. It's the damn wings of those bloody butterflies. Flapping. Smacking my stomach, the tips of my toes, the top of my head. Clouding my vision, cramping my brain, ringing my ears. I can't think.
So I'll slap my hands together and pray. Butterfly wings please wrap yourselves around and form the cocoon from whence you came, open up and let the caterpillar slink away quietly. Go backwards in time. I am afraid if I move forward you will all just flutter until you fly away and I don't think my body could take another departure.

Is there a problem with....

2009-03-13T14:42:00.002-04:00

Chatting on line with your new beau while your ex beau sends you e mail after e mail of pictures of the two of you from days gone by?

There must be some sort of problem with this...

What is he thinking?!

Either of them....

It's not always about you

2009-03-13T14:06:00.001-04:00

Tali worries that Maya doesn't ask how she is doing, Maya worries Tali does not ask why she is not doing. Both of them wonder the same selfish thing about each other. Tali flies high, she has met a man, and of course, she lifts. Because it is all about what happens TO you that lifts you, not what happens inside of you, or around you that makes you happy, but what happens to you and oh, so often, it has to do with a man.

Why is that? Why do they carry this power.

Not just men. Career, success, if you have it you are defined, if you don't you are not. No one just sits still and sees themselves from the inside out. Outside factors always make a person who they are.

Maybe that is the problem. If we were ultimately defined by what we thought of ourselves and not what everyone around us though, man, boss, fan, we would all be giving each other what we really want and need.

Karma

2009-03-11T11:51:00.002-04:00

All of my friends are falling in love around me. The good ones and the bad ones. The ones who deserve it and the ones who don't. And I am still standing here. Closed for business. Do you think its because I keep him around? Maybe if I dropped it all with him, even the e mails back and forth, maybe I'd move on. And maybe my energy would shift, or something cheesy like that?

Who knows, I don't know, I don't get it. It's not as though I am not happy for everyone around me. I am just wondering why I don't deserve it too. How passive does that sound!

I'm too extreme. I'm in for one day, out the next, I rotate men like I wash my hair. Every two days and there is another one in the mix (bed). I thought Charlotte would warm me up, apparently it's not enough.

Is this lack of integrity bringing me bad energy? If I treated myself with just smallest degree of respect, would things turn right? I don't know. I don't know if I care. I don't know if I just find this way easier. No falls, good or bad, no need to be picked up, good or bad. None of it.

All I know, is I must be missing a step or two.

Danger

2009-03-09T15:39:00.001-04:00

...feels so good.

Evidently my addiction has not subsided. He remains present. And I should be seeing him this week.

I have no soul it seems.

No soul or self control.

Laundry

2009-03-08T17:53:00.002-04:00

Today I did my laundry at the laundromat down the street from my apartment. There was a tall beautiful woman with her jet black hair in a short bob. She folded laundry silently next to her shorter then hr husband. He folded her thong underwear, she matched their kids socks. They did not look at each other, they did not talk to each other, they completed their weekend chore and left. In silence.

Is that how it all ends up?

I am probably lying to you

2009-02-20T18:24:00.006-05:00

Today I hailed a cab and as I hopped in I noticed a man walking down Avenue A with a t shirt on (yes, it was 20 degrees today) that read "I'm Probably Lying to You." Fateful spotting really.

Last night, date two, 38 year old, israeli fashion designer, drummer, guitar player extraordinaire. My most dangerous territory, as far as dating goes. He hails from the NYC music scene, the scene I have been trying to avoid. He knows them all and they have all let him that they know me.

Rumors spread like wildfire amongst people who don't seem to have other, more inspiring pursuits, or perhaps rumors just spread like wildfire period. People love to talk. I am one of them. Sometimes, hell, I am the president of them! And so, Gil and I have known each other for some time. I won't pretend I ever saw him like that. He is significantly older, he makes a very funny face when he plays the drums and he is Israeli. And as a Jewish girl, insisting on marrying a Jewish guy, I have a strange aversion to dating Israeli men. Perhaps its that they are too forward for even me.

In any case, he showed up two weeks ago to the Margarita club, the big party where Dean and I made our first treads towards actual friendship. despite our loving look, my drunken "I need you text messages" and so on.He is lovely, he is aggressive, he is vocal an he is forward, everything about a man I generally like. It should work. it just should, in spite of and despite the age difference.

He reads me. We drink margaritas, end up at max fish, drink more, end up at the hummus place (yes thats what its called), eat dinner, make out like we know each other and talk about things of great importance to me. A few drinks and my eyes deepen, my soul widens and I let loose. He listened and told me...

I needed to leard how to receive.

And not in a sex way...

In the sense that I needed to let others do things for me.

How could this man see this in me. He told me he has been watching me for a long time. That he asked about me always, that he found me quite sexy and that others had things to say about me, positive or negative.

It felt good to know him. It felt good to hear him, but I just did not believe him. And all of my trust issues just laid there at the surface of whatever it was we were. Like he was lying to me.

Of course, a day later I find out that Nicole and Dean have shared some, um, intimate time together....and my trust in general is curbed. For anything at all....

I ignore his phone calls, his e mails, his IMs, he knows Nicole and I want nothing to do with that, he wonders why

Probably because the time we shared as little time but as intimate as it felt, was all a lie, like everything else. I don't think about him when I'm not in front of him.

Or maybe I do, and I don't want to. Maybe the thought of liking someone who's first dining choice is the Chumus Place is scary, because that means we share something, a background we can perpetuate, but that is also so different. It is funny as an American Jew, you do not automatically think you will date, end up with, fall in love with, a sabra Israeli and yet it works. For me. In the sense that I want to feel like I made a change in choosing the man I love, but still stay the same, close to home.

In a way he is the best of both worlds. So maybe lying to him is easier. Maybe the shirt this man on ave a wore was a way of saying, "I'm lying to you, its easier that way- eh? No one gets hurt."

I think I kind of want to hurt again, the kind of hurt that gets fixed with ecstasy by the same person who hurt you, because then, that hurt, is really just mistaken vulnerability and isn't that what we seek in the end anyway?

For me or not for me, that is the question?

2009-02-19T00:03:00.004-05:00

My ankle is really sore. I have no idea why, maybe walking around Manhattan with my hard ass cowboy boots on all day on Monday was not the smartest. But I love my cowboy boots. I bought these cowboy boots when I was 22, from Rags a go go on 14th street. I was all my lonesome and in search of the perfect pair. Vintage was cool to me then, as it is now, as it was in college, but I got it, for real around 22, when I was no longer in college, influenced by the people around me, artists or Jews or otherwise. When I was beginning to form my own. And I decided cowboy boots were the way forward. Plus, they matched my newly shaping rock star image. From self proclaimed orthodox Jw to musical theater wiz to aspiring rock and roll star, my images, my personalities, my goals changed like you change your underwear.

But I was 22.

It was all about self discovery then, wasn't it?

So I began my road to definition, I guess ultimately a definition does form, no matter how you fight it, and my goal then was to be the OPPOSITE of defiitio, OPPOSITE of what I had been and from whence I came. It worked. My hair got cut the right way, my clothes improved drastically, my moral values disintegrated and to top it off I lived downtown, throwing massive parties while singing my own music at dirty rock clubs around Manhattan. Living the dream, really.

And here I live, closer to college then ever, closer to where I used to be and where I changed the most, and I am just the same as I was when I changed. And now, being different is what defines me, no matter how far i reached for UNdefinition.

He joked tonight over sushi,"you are an east village hipster, definitely not the typical Jewish girl." I knew he was half kidding, no matter how I have tried, I have never fully escaped my prepster make up to refurbish myself as ultimate hipster, not even close. But I do associate with those often termed as hipsters and so I get lumped into the category, mostly by my Jewish friends, who would not know a hipster from my grandma. And neither would I, because essentially the word hipster means nothing....a hair cut, a jean style, a chosen profession, a very expensive hair cut that looks cheap. I mean really. Why want to be one of those?

Yet oddly, this association for me, this difference between me and the regular Jewish girl, is my selling point when out on a date with certain Jewish guys, like this one, tonight.

Now come on, do not deny it, all girls know, when dating, what her selling point is. Beauty, intellect, talent, hipness. Well since beauty is not my strong suit, not fishing for compliments here, just the truth, I usually hone in on my outspoken intellectual capacity, or at least my ability to formulate somewhat complex sounding sentences about worthy topics and then there is the fact that I am different. Different from the regular Jew girl, different from the regular anyone. It is what has kept me interesting enough to people to keep my friends, date the men I have dated and so on.

So I use it, it sells for the most part. Though now it is feeling a bit trite. Because the truth is my "regular" friends, the not so screamingly different ones are the happy ones and I am still searching. And not only that, my attempt to escape my definition has now become my definition and while I think it is exciting, I am not sure it is becoming on me.

Tonight I did have fun though I know my eccentricity is attractive to this man. And maybe not a bad thing. He is very comfortable, smart, outspoken, thoughtful a tad overanalytical, but that is ok. He is a Jewish boy I met when I went on JDATE after I broke up with Dean when I decided I would just have to pick a Jewish husband, went on about3 dates off that site, this was one, he has been flaky ever since. Maybe it weirds him out that we met on line, when with the amount of friends we have in common, we probably could have met some time in person, yet here we are. He is cool. He is against the grain, I mean, he lives in the East Village, for gosh sake! Rare for a nice Jewish boy, formerly Orthodox who went to Yeshova, just like me. And I am attracted to him. We have the same background and the same desire for escape. He thinks I am different. Cool. Bohemian. I just sure hope he is not misled, because I am thinking normal is what I am going for, normal is what I will find.

We are going to the dog park together this weekend with the love of my life, Charlotte (my pit bull) and we shall see how it all goes, one thing for certain, first date of my new system and its working.

G night!

ROL

Daddy knows best!

2009-02-18T12:24:00.003-05:00

My father and mother have been married for over 30 years. They have only been with each other. They have been dating since they turned 17 and they stood under the chupah at 21. My dad bought my mother stationary for her 17th birthday and brought it with him to her 17th birthday party. My mother saw a picture of my dad, his auburn jewfro and thick glasses in the local paper and knew right then that she was in love. It was that simple. And it still is. They STILL flirt with each other, They STILL love each other, in every way (ew), They STILL get it.

I know it is rare. I know about 50% of marriages from that generation end in divorce and the divorce rate is only gaining. But, they have managed to make it work and well.

Yesterday, February 17th, my mother turned 52. She looks fab. Great skin, like 3 wrinkles and body in tact. She is aging gracefully, as expected. My father sat next to her at dinner and I sat across the table, my two brothers have managed to escape our hometown for the time being and generally this is the familial picture. My parents on one side, me on the other. Like a panel of judges and a job candidate. I dream sometimes of what it will be like when I can round out the table with a fourth. A brother in Michigan and another in Beijing, it sure would be nice to bring a man to the table. I mean at least for my father's sake.

Alas, it is only three for now. And of course, Jewish parents and a 27.5 year old daughter brings about conversations surrounding job growth, career choices, social life and of course, the future husband prospects. Most of the time we laugh, sometimes we fight, mostly because frustration builds, they just don's seem to get it. And how can they? They have actually, believe it or not, never dated. Not the way adults do, they were married before they became actualized adults, so it just never was a reality for them. And I point that out a lot and it makes them angry. I think they do not like knowing that they may be less experienced at something then I am. WAY less experienced. Or maybe I just assume that. Maybe it bothers them that I seem to follow patterns of dating that are just unsuccessful and they are all knowing, I just never listen. It becomes a frustrating, circular conversation(BLOWOUT FIGHT) and it can be grueling. SO, today begins opposite day. Opposite hour. Opposite life.

I am going to listen to my parents.

Maybe, just MAYBE they know something I don't

Ouch. It hurt to say that.

Last night in particular, no fights arose, but we sat at Hearth on 12th and 1st ave, deep in the East Village, a neighborhood that my parents find hard to digest, but do so willfully (my mother more then my father) and we laughed. I gave in. I fed them story after story about men I am dating, men who e mail facebook messages instead of calling, men who take me out four times and cease to even kiss me, men who flake, come back, flake again. I feed them stories about my girlfriends, one who is moving across the country with a signed financial agreement in hand in case of relationship failure, instead of demanding a ring on her finger, a friend who WON'T move across the country WITHOUT a ring on her finger, one who has been left out to dry after two years of a serious relationship because her white boyfriend (idiot) put his glasses on and found out that she was black and could not handle it (wtf?)

No story ceased to amaze them, one after the other. I suppose it gave them a sense of assurance, "at least its not just our daughter," I am sure they thought. And they laughed and honestly, so did I. My father looked at me and uttered his favorite words of ethereal wisdom with his regular sense of sarcasm, and my father fancies himself wise and hilarious, "all you need is one, can't you just find one?"

I looked at him and said, "no, it no longer works like that."

And I am right. And in my humble & perhaps less wise opinion, this has all to do with technology. Weird connection, you are thinking. Perhaps. I mean think about it. We are a generation of Instant Gratification. We get what we want when we want it, we do not have to step outside to order almost anything in the world and have it appear on our doorstep, in our arms, on our computers, in our Ipods, on our movie screens, our TV's, our fridges. We don't even have to go outside to date anymore. And then when we do, forget dating, we have sex immediately. Like that is normal. We spend all this un-intimate time getting to know one another, on IM, in e mail, through blogs, profiles, dating sites, social networking sites, test message! I can not even remember the last time i picked up my iphone and went to the keypad to call on a friend. The minute we make human connection again we stick it to each other. Social and romantic negligence, all because we have become stunted and spoiled. Instant Gratification Generation.

And there it was, vomited all over the wooden table at hearth, the truth. We have lost all sense of real intimacy and any sense of working towards attaining one thing or another. Love, the forefront and the back end of this theory.

We joked about a friend who moved in with a boyfriend and wondered why after 2 years of living together he had not proposed. My dad said,

"because he has just what he wants. Do you REALLY think men are programmed to want to be married, to commit? No! But if ladies don't give them something to work for, they won't realize it either."

Wham. And I hate to say it, or write it rather, because let's face it, I am not ACTUALLY talking right now, My father is right, correct, on target, ding ding ding.

So. I am playing a game. I am going to let myself date, real, actual candidates for real, actual relationships. And they are going to court me and I will coyly hold back most everything. Fuck Instant Gratification, I am going to make them work, and in turn this will be loads of work on my end as well.

No sex. No "I think you are the one" two weeks into a relationship, no moving in, no I love you. Not for a while. I am going to see what happens.

I am going to tell you ALL about it.

Tonight. Candidate one.

Deena

It hurts, again

2009-02-13T17:21:00.002-05:00

I am sitting at work and I am getting nothing done. My heart hurts. My head hurts. I'm having trouble breathing. It's a familiar feeling. And it's a pattern. Doesn't some psychological theory point out that this is now all my fault and no one else, because I let this happen to me? I mean, I am the one who keeps holding on to people who are bad.

My friend told me to keep up with this blog. To write my life down, because my life is full of stories. I always wanted a big life, a life that was full of stories, a life that read like a book, or like a movie. And here I am. I can say the things that have happened to me, the things I have done, the places I have been, the people I have met have all played roles, stories, sets of a million movies.

And all it does is hurt.

All I do is look on facebook at old lovers, old boyfriends, old friends who ended up normal. Who got married at the right time, had children at the right time. Who all seem blissfully happy and in place.

And I call a woman my best friend, but behind my back she sleeps with the man who I loved, who used to push me around, who betrayed me, while she watched. And she found solace with him, instead of for me. And the irony is that she dropped this all on me out of the blue as I was in the process of letting him back in. She had to burst my bubble, because she got jealous. Probably better off.

And now I have spent days ruined over this.

When THIS is not me. These people are not who I am supposed to know and to associate with. When did I land here?

This is getting in the way of my ability to be productive, to move forward into normal relationships, to have fun, enjoy myself, walk my dog, get out of bed, open my eyes.

I wonder, like in sliding doors, that silly Gwyneth Paltrow movie, what the heck would have happened if Nicole and I had just killed the conversation with Dean on April 7th, 2007 before it event started. If we just chalked him up to some drunk English dude, instead of me spending the entire next day with him at brunch, the movies and over sangria. What would have happened then? Would she have found another way to destroy me? Probably. Would he have? Who knows. Who knows if he never would have made this move to New York.

But you can not turn back time. Betrayal sticks and it stays. It seeps in the creases and it oozes out just as the cut begins to scab. Like a reminder of the accident you had, the silly, klutzy moment that you got the cut comes rushing back. And you are back to square 1.

I wonder when I won't have something bad to write.

When my posts will be full of love, romance and wedding plans.

Or great success in other areas.

This is getting just a bit boring.

Not Just a Fleeting Feeling...

2008-11-14T15:33:00.002-05:00

Nashville,

You send me cheesy love songs that you hear at work because they remind you of me. I don't like cheesy music, but I like when you send me these songs.

I should rid my life of the other lovers and just keep you.

But you are so far away. And we are too scared.

:(
Red

Lady in the Dark

2008-11-13T23:09:00.003-05:00

I wonder what makes songs sound pretty to people. Some songs are pretty to some people and some songs are pretty to other people. Like people for people. Some people are pretty to some people and some people are pretty to other people.

Is it just chemistry? Does chemistry work with songs too?

"I don't remember where all this was going
now that days get closer and we get farther apart
but its hard to wake from these beds we make
all on our own
its easier just to keep living in the dark."
--Patrick Park

Maybe its the swing in the rhythm, or the natural, dirty sound of his voice, the prominence of it amongst the rest of the recording, like red paint on a black canvas. I probably love it because of its natural, soulful feel, nothing artificial. Then there are the lyrics. Which speak to almost every part of my stir crazy life. And the words ring true as words I know Dean felt close to at the end of us.

Of course the record was given to me by him...one of the many remnants of him.

It is easy to live in the dark. I think I pick dark to light pretty often. I am doing that with Justin. My Nashville lover. I mean we look to each other with such hope, like we are truly connected on some level. And I suppose we are, but do we even really know each other and in reality would it ever really work? No. That is the answer, but it's easier to hold onto the lie then face the truth. That without holding on to the feelings we imagine we would be alone. Utterly.

So we live in the dark, across states that live as boundaries to protect our hearts from getting bruised.

Lipstick Jungle....

2008-11-13T17:19:00.003-05:00

Is being taken off the air!

Why do all things come to an end!!!!

Lordie. A show about powerful women and it can not last even two seasons....The strike last year was such a tease with these new shows they pulled out of the woodworks and are now swiping off the air.

Blasted Network Television.

NOW WHAT WILL I DVR TO DISTRACT ME.

May have to just pay attention to my actual life.

Even Still, Even Now

2008-11-13T15:44:00.003-05:00

Dear Dean,

Nicole thinks we should make a movie about our lives. She thinks we should make it even dirtier then our lives are. He said, she said, he fucked, she fucked, they fucked. Everyone fucked....over. She and I laugh about it, but its really not that funny.

We e mailed today. I mustered it up. I asked you how you were. I pretend not to care, but I do. You write back and the humour punches through and I am drawn in, even just the tiniest bit. And the conversation persists, even via e mail. I can tell you miss me too. We live with hatred on our faces and hearts off our sleeves for now, but I know deep down you care, I care.

And I can't wrap my head around how spiteful we both are. Spiteful is your word. I stole it.

When your mother came, it just did not feel right to spend all that time with her. So I ditched. I felt like fucking you over, cause you fucked me over. And I could not see past it. So I hurt you. I guess deep down I might have known what I was doing, no matter how much chatter I can do to talk myself out of it. I did not want to come through for you. You didn't come through for me and you turn at the switch of a light on the people you love most. So I tried it.

I still feel badly. She may have made you who you are, but she did not deserve to be played by default.

Oh well. It certainly cut you off didn't it. And then with one line, "how are you?" The can is opened, the curtain falls.

I never though my greatest effort would be put on pushing you away.

I wish I could trace our end back to the beginning and figure out where we lost our footing. Are you just the sociopath I have turned you into in my mind? Or is it normal? Are we just both at fault? Both just bad communicators who could not fight through the stubborness? I guess I will never know.

I do wonder when I will stop wondering.

It happened again. I dreamt about you while I was sleeping next to Andrew two nights ago. I mean, he does live as the perfect distraction, but I still dream about you when I am sleeping.

Not good dreams, don't get me wrong. But you are there. Even when I close my eyes.

Even Still, Even Now.

xx
D

Andrew, the neighbor lover who killed the bug....

2008-11-10T16:11:00.005-05:00

Andrew, the neighbor, is also helping me kill you. Not literally of course. But he sure is helping me kill the memory.

Andrew does not just kill bugs.

He does not just walk my dog.

He does not just break into my apartment for me when I am locked out and my keys and dogs are locked in.

"You like the Avett Brothers?" he said.

"I didn't, but I do now, my ex got me into them," I replied. With the word ex, my mouth dried.

He could tell and said, "well, ex's are good for something aren't they?"

His eyes unlocked mine.

I guess so, I mean ex's are usually good for losing about 10 pounds, girl can't complain. But they leave more behind, music, books, boxers (you know the ones you adapt into your pajama pile and just ignore the fact that his body wore them once, or relish in it). Baggage claims worth of baggage.

And then someone unpacks it all. Eventually. Not necessarily a new love, sometimes just a friend, sometimes just a movie that makes you cry a little, or laugh a little. Sometimes a long walk.

Sometimes a neighbor.

Andrew loved me that night and a few nights post. He also saw me puke up all my happiness the night Obama made history (champagne, beer, wine, vodka: a sorry mix). He has a hole in his heart too. I can tell. He speaks of the perptrator sometimes. But mostly I speak of mine. He listens and then he holds me and loves me again.

Or puts the act on. It feels good, but it's not misleading.

Yes, it might get sticky. Scratch that. It WILL get sticky. But I don't care.

He is mending me a little every day.

A New Tattoo

2008-11-10T15:21:00.003-05:00

I saw a picture of your new tattoo on someone else's facebook profile. It looks really good.

Why am I so addicted to someone so mean? Maybe because in pictures your bite doesn't look so brutal. Maybe because the memory I have is hazy. Maybe because through the dark your light still peaks through and I miss you.

Why in your photos on that bloody site do you have a picture of her and not of me? Why are you 30 going on 13?

I am sure you still remember us. Maybe just a picture left embedded in your mind and not on a social networking site.

I remember you. And I remember, or am reminded of, the pain and nausea I felt every time you did something to turn the knife.

But I also want to hug you.

Even though I have so many other people to hug, I still just want to hug you.

"hug" you.

Never Again

2008-11-07T16:25:00.004-05:00

In a way Obama's win will sheild the world from past experience. His win will change things for good. Even if it is just perspective. I walk the streets with a higher head and I know that there are others who have been lifted even higher out of their gutter. This alone will change our country forever. Equality, pride for those who never felt the right to feel it before.

For me, of course, bye bye to Bush and bye bye to high tax on the middle class makes me smile. The idea that Republicans will not dominate and that Democrats will, with notions of human equality, religion separate of state, womens rights, respect for those of all income brackets, and simply a stronger perception in the eyes of our neighboring countries is what made my decision for me.

But what moved me the most when I watched that Blue sign light up, with Barack's name flashing, was the thought that for 200 years Black people in this country have been persecuted, one way or another, persecuted, lowered, separated. And with each step they have fought for a difference, and changes have been made. This was the end though, this was the biggest change of all for the Black people of our country. Because it changed perspective entirely for all people watching.

This is what gave me hope, just to know, people have changed enough to open up to something new, surface and deep down.

Hooray for change.

Hey Babe.

2008-11-07T16:20:00.003-05:00

My stomach still drops a little when I hear you say "hey babe." It's been years, but you still live deep down under my covers. Of course I have put on layers to protect. Stone, blood, skin, t shirts, sweaters, coats, but you peak through.

Maybe you were the last one I loved. Though I have had love since. Maybe you were the only one I loved?

Maybe I still love you sometimes.

It doesn't matter, I mean, you are gone now and we know each other in a new way, like it never happened. But it did.

It was lovely. When you wrap your arms around me, that's when I recall.

Do you?

how can you mend a broken heart?

2008-10-29T01:12:00.005-04:00

Why do hearts even have to break at all? And why is the opposite of love, hate? How do love and hate always manage to meet each other at the border and then make the transfer?

Tonight I saw Dean and it was the first moment after a hard break up where you suddenly forget who that person was to you at one point. Past love, past hatred all the way to indifference. Not Utter indifference, but the first hint of it. Our existences just did not influence each other. Someone who once held me and who I held back.

For the most part we fought, I won't deny that, but we held on for a year. Were we just being selfish? Were we just up for the challenge, or did we love each other? What is love if it can end in such a spiteful way? Addiction I suppose. Ease with one another. Reluctance to give up. Narcissism at its height.

The thing is there is no end in sight for me now. I just don't even see the possibility that I will ever settle down. Have never had such bad luck with finding a connection then I am having now and also never been so obsessed with it, which I am sure is the problem.

I just really don't have much to give and that means there will be little for someone to take. So I just feel like there is no point. And one would think that would feel like a relief, yet trying NOT to get involved with people is at the forefront of my mind.

WTF? I just want a break from life.

In other news, cute, new neighbor, just killed a big, ugly bug for me. I think I'm in love.

Thank you, Andrew....

xx, Red Out Loud

facebook

2008-10-28T13:58:00.002-04:00

I am a stalker.

I am a procrastinator.

I am a little bit lonely.

I am a little bit bored.

I wonder what he is showing off in paris. His art? His other woman? She is not much to show off. I am not being mean, I am just being honest. I found a pic on facebook.

Facebook is the bane of my existence. I should be e mailing managers and artists for hi res photos. I should be sending out e mails to listings editors and making sure my shows are getting listed. I should be finding a band to place with Jay Nash on November 24th.

I am doing none of these things.

I am just sitting here listening to a great record and wondering what he is doing in Paris. The balding, jewish, creative artist. I used to cry a little when we did it. I have no idea why. I guess I really did like him. I pretended not to. Maybe that is what went wrong. Or maybe he just did not like me like that.

What is the point of casual? Why is that what everyone wants with me. Casual. I am so not casual. Last night I accidentally, casually, spent the night in my friend Derek's bed. Oops. If my ex knew he would die. That is probably why I did it. It was worthwhile, I will say that.

Nashville comes to New York in a month. I am excited. I love to love and be loved. But I pretend I like to be single. I don't. I am just tired of all the effort, I guess that is why it is easy to keep my heart invested in something that is so far away. Minimal effort, minimal chance for heartbreak.

I don't think my heart could handle another crack. It is getting really unshapely at this point.

I miss singing songs.

x,
ROL

Follow Through

2008-10-27T01:11:00.003-04:00

You never called me. Like you said you would, time and time again. Guess you really liked her better, though you didn't lay with me that way. Misleading is the name of you game. So you never called.

I wonder why you said you would. I mean, why bother, I guess, if it's not there, its not there, right? Why bother is a question I could ask myself as well I suppose. It is all just one big circle when it all comes down to it, after all. I mean I will likely not call the other him. It is just not worth it. Where would the fun be in consistency anyway.

What is it about our generation, we are all on a quest for something bigger and better. For the next big thing, a quest for awesomeness. Boredom is our most common nightmare, and we fight it. And then we walk alone. And we like it. Because alone, that can't possibly get boring.

It's just easier that way.

Tonight he explained regular was not for him, he wanted to spice it up some. My hot
neighbor's HOTTER brother. yummy. And the sexual tension raged between us. Yet we did not spice it up. Not even a little.

Though we did make a second date, if that is what it was....

We are going to the shooting range next Saturday.

And even though I love that I am sitting alone my bed now, hearing moaning from the apartment behind mine and Rosi Golan singing to me from my small computer speakers, the best part being that I am alone, I do wish one of the 3 "he's in this entry were next to me.

Fuck boring. A warm body is nicer then nobody.

At least it was.

It is only now that I realize the moaning was just Stuart snoring. Guess my next door neighbor is alone tonight too.

x, Red Out Loud

ps Stuart is my dog.

the one that got away

2008-10-14T18:18:00.003-04:00

He is on line now. I see him there, on my little g chat list. Just sitting there. A name. with no capital letters. He should IM me, I mean he did promise me dinner this week, drinks?

We never really broke up, not face to face, not in any important way. I guess that is about as good as he felt about it. Good enough to let me push him to dump me over the phone. It was a shame really. We had great chemistry. He was the perfect size. In every way. Yes, he was even of the right faith.

Not that he had any of it.

I don't know. Maybe I came on too strong. I am trying a new game. I am going to try to deal with the men I like the way I deal with the men I don't like. I am going to just cut off. I am not going to ask for anything from anyone and see what happens.

How does that work out? I mean people really want what they can't have. So some ladies learn to play games at a young age. "I will NOT show you I like you!" That is the mantra. It works! I watched my roomie Lindsay do it many times...

She is married.

All I have to say about that.

I don't know, I can't play games. I never win.

I miss the one that got away, we could have worked, had he given it a chance. I am sure we could have.

Shame.

Ok he signed off. Done distracting myself.

--Red Out Loud

DVR

2008-10-13T23:50:00.001-04:00

I think I DVR tv shows and watch them, just to feel like I am getting something done.

double life

2008-10-13T23:34:00.003-04:00

It's like I live a double life. I fell in like in Nashville, with half Jew and came home and let the other half of the Jew sit by my side on Saturday night. I pretended he never hurt me, I pretended we could still love, live, lie. Lay not lie. Correction.

What makes me comfortable enough to let him in. Not all the way, but in.

Addiction.

It's no joke.

He lied. He lied well. Well enough to make me feel like I made him do it.

Live the double life.

Sleep with her and then me and then her again.

Then tell me he loves me, over and over.

And over.

When we met, I knew he was wrong, he was English, he was from the other side, he was not Jewish, or he was only accidentally Jewish. J.E.W.I.S.H. J.E.S.U.S.

I wonder how many times a day I say Jewish.

The high holidays came and went and I sat in Synagogue wondering why I still let HIM dominate. Him= God, Dean, Love, Need, Attention.

What is so wrong with being left alone. Being ALONE. Godless, loveless, sexless, friendless?

Ok, maybe not friendless....

I fasted. I did not get hungry at all. I did not think about my sins of the year prior, I know I will just commit them again, in one version or another. I did think it feels better to me not to eat then to eat. Which is sick.

My friend Katie died of complications with Anorexia this year. I wonder why she wanted to disappear.

And I am sort of jealous she did.

At least it was her choice.

I miss myself sometimes. Where did I go? I want to sing Barbra Streisand songs in Jamaica at the Piano Bar at the Beaches resort again, with a piano player named Ultimate. Like I did when I was 15. I was happy then.

THOSE were the days.

That was me.

That is another story.

I am not that girl anymore. I am a new version of me, living my double life. Who I wanted to be and I who I am.

Shalom Y'all

2008-10-13T23:30:00.003-04:00

Went to Nashville. Came back. New memories in tow. New love in the back of my mind. Love. Whatever that is. A jewish father, A catholic mother. Still not good enough. But just my luck. And still the sinking feeling that none of it really matters, but still holding out. For what?

Went to synagogue while in Nashville. Watched him play music for the masses as they iterated words they did not know the meaning of. Everybody needs a place to stand, to belong, to play, to fit in.

So we found god.

And now we are stuck here.

I look for god in man. I look to place faith in a human being.

It is easier to find god.

Shalom, y'all.

Stay

2008-10-13T23:23:00.003-04:00

I am always so wordy in this blog. I am tired of being wordy. It is boring. I am sitting here on my bed in my 1 bedroom apartment in the east village writing. about myself, what i want, what i wished for, what i wish for, what i have and what i don't have.

I HAVE a dog.
He is NOT mine.

I HAVE an apartment.
It's rented. NOT mine.

I HAVE a headache.
Too much booze, will be gone by tomorrow.

I HAVE Ray Lamontagne playing on my Itunes.
It keeps disappearing everytime I restart my computer.

I HAVE a voice.
Not the one I had last year.

Nothing is permanent.

I would LOVE to find something permanent.

Right now my plan is to sit here on my bed and wait for something permanent to find me.

when somebody leaves

2008-09-25T18:40:00.001-04:00

...it's easy to think that it might be you.

--amber rubarth www.myspace.com/amberrubarth

hi!

2008-09-25T15:20:00.002-04:00

Hi! Forever ago was the last I posted....and I am back. I am back. I am back. And I am not going to try and fill in the blanks here, let's start from scratch.

First off. Dean. Out of the picture. After all the religious back and forth, a nasty break up and the discovery that the last two months of our relationship had been spent in another woman's bed, I gave up. We parted ways on Rebel Spirit (which for the record, has become a GREAT success, sponsorship, national exposure, etc.) and have somehow managed good terms after months of spiteful hatred.

So.

I am single. Single and STILL Jewish ;) Still in love with music. Still. Me.

I read back over a few entries, about dean and I. How harsh, how strong I was with him. Not sure it was all a great thing to be that way. Not sure why I felt so comfortable trying to change someone. He did want it, too. Don't get me wrong. But I do see how it sent him running. To another. Girl. Younger. And on Gossip Girl.

GO FIGURE.

And no, I am not bitter. Because he writes me letters every day asking for me back. And while deep down I wish i could, yet again, jump in, I know its sealed and wrong.

And PLUS.

I've moved on ;)

xRed Out Loud

almost 3 months later.....

2008-02-14T18:47:00.002-05:00

Lord. I don't even know the last time I wrote to you all or to myself or to anyone for that matter. It has been a long time and I can not even remember the last item I ranted about. But man, I have missed it. I have missed you. I have missed me a bit.

My, my. What has happened. I have changed. My voice has returned after hard months of therapy and trying to get life back before my body was ready. It is strange when your b ody just cuts out on you and literally tells you to STOP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING.

My voice came back, edgy and stringy and strange. It was quiet, without power, people had to say, "what?" when I said something. That is RARE when you are Deena Goodman. RARE. It was painful, not physically, but emotionally. No control over a bodily function as necessary as speaking.

I got stronger, weaker, stronger. Got confident, went out, talked in loud rooms, sang here and there, regretted it, got tired, got sick and got healthy. I got my voice back.

I have it. It is in there. It is different and so am I.

To be continued.

ps Dean got me roses today- his first flower purchase ever. wow.

P.S.

2007-11-24T16:09:00.000-05:00

You may be wondering how my voice is, since, after all, that is the intention of this bloggidy blog.

Well- it is still present. Tried, but 6 weeks later my speaking voice is quite strong, I sound like I did years back, no hoarseness and I think in 2 weeks I will be able to set up my first show!!!!

SCARY!!!!!!!

What I will say is this has been quite a ride and it has forced me to change direction in a major way. I don't know if I will find my way back or if i will continue to move forward, but I am not sure how I will shape up now that I have "healed." Who ever knows what they'll do next? I am starting to realize that thinking big may not be as efficient or even as meaningful as thinking small, step by step and letting the wind carry you a bit....

Who knows where it will take me....

Faith, continued....

2007-11-24T15:29:00.000-05:00

Soooooo......

Dean and his technical Jew status threw him for a loop and I suppose he could not handle it. And to be perfectly honest I was quite unsympathetic to the whole plight. I am not the best person to, say, teach a person something. You certainly would not find a photograph of me next to the word patient in the dictionary, no sir.

And when it comes to Judaism, for me, it all seems just so obvious. I have been bred this way and I have been bred around other people who have been bred the same way. There was no teaching involved. My understanding of God came at such a young age that I no longer had to understand God in order to understand the rules I lived by, the practices I kept, the practices I chose not to keep, that tendencies my family had that were typically "jewish," the holidays I celebrated and the life I intended to lead in the future. God had been buried deep under that. God had also been buried deep under the tribulations my almost immediate family had experienced historically due to their religion. In no way did my grandparents walk around putting down or pushing up God for being a part of their experience or survival of the Holocaust. The experience simply reinforced their identity as Jews, defining their place in the world and therefore their responsibility to impart that place unto their children.

All of this has shaped me, with little explanation, more build up of experience in my surroundings, oh and of course, 18 years of formal Jewish education.

Though the Holocaust directly influenced Dean's history and directly influenced his destiny it was so buried that it really had nothing to do with his identity, not as a Jew and not as a human being. Also- though born Jewish he was no tied to any practice in any way and for the most part had no idea it was part of who he was until I told him so. The discovery came as a shock to both of us, him because it meant he was tied to a religion that simply scared him and me because, well, it meant I could LEGALLY date him :-). Still it meant a major project ahead of us and while it was an inherent connection it also became an inherent disconnect. I had experienced Judaism, I never thought I would have to explain it. He had never experienced Judaism, let alone religion in any capacity. For him religion meant conforming, it meant rules and it meant GOD. This freaks the hell out of him. Religion also meant the key to success for our relationship. And that freaked him out too.

And I had the hardest time abutting his nerves. How was it possible for me a believer/non believer/god fearing/god rebelling Jew supposed to explain in all my conflict that Judaism was great, that he should recognize that and that without that realization there would be no future for us.

I couldn't, I could not be the teacher. All I could do was give him books, hope he would take to them and hope that he would, himself, fall for the whole life style choice as opposed to it being me who forced him into it. The books did not work, the plea for him to recognize that my history was his history did not help either. None of it worked and it put a weight so heavy on the back of our newfound love that it broke.

And Dean broke up with me.

Did it last? You might ask, because here I am irresponsibly writing to you 5 weeks post break up (6 weeks post operation) and things have changed.

In fact Dean and I could not stay apart from each other, we tried a couple of times over the course of the month but realizing that we were utterly failing at the plight Dean decided on his own volition to reach out to some "Jewish sources" of his own. He set up meetings, began e mailing people, posting comments and questions on message boards and the likes. I convinced him he needed to do this on his own, that I did not want to be to blame for his one day accepting this way of life as his own, that he needed to pursue this as an individual. A female rabbi at the 92nd street Y convinced him otherwise. SO- I went with him all the way up to the upper east side for his big introduction.

Now this was not his first introduction to a Rabbi, this was his 2nd or 3rd. I had dragged him to synagogue on the high holidays, invited him to festive meals, introduced him to Jewish friends and so on....

But this 92nd Street Y visit was the first encounter out of his own volition.

It was not the regular for me....first off, I went to yeshiva high school and while my family is conservative and from an egalitarian background, meeting a female Rabbi was NOT what I had in mind, not at all. But here we were sitting face to face with a soon to be female Jewish Rabbi who had a past career in the music business working at Arista records. Irony or ironies.

For the first time, though I saw Dean for who he was, for what he was going through, for all of his questions, thoughts and considerations. This woman handled it beautifully and I listened. This is not to say that I completely understood everything he had to say, it is also not to say that I saw some sort of light or that he saw some sort of light. But we were both suddenly in it together. Whether this pushes us back to each other too soon, whether this religious conflict is present to simply cover up other issues we had been having for some time, we have decided to stay with each other for the time being.

So, as they say, faith brought us together....at least for now. I'll keep ya posted......

xRed Out Loud

Have Faith

2007-11-13T01:19:00.001-05:00

and it may very well be tonight that Dean broke up with me. Even though it was three weeks ago yesterday that he made the fateful decision. We have continued to see each other and so in a way the last three weeks don't count. Every couple of days we would end up together and two days later we'd look at each other in bed at his apartment and say "what are we doing?" Two days without each other pass and we say to each other on the phone "what are we doing?" and tonight after lots of two day intervals we said to each other "what ARE WE REALLY DOING HERE?" and he decided that had to draw the line (though I did point out he had tried to draw the line weeks ago).

So I suppose this is it, or it for now, or it until he comes around or I get on with it. It's not as though I didn't know this would happen, I mean it is every day that I live a self fulfilling prophecy that all fails and nothing lasts forever. That is why I date men I can't end up with and talk about a career in music that I'd die for but don't actively pursue, instead putting my energy into more tangible jobs-slash-relationships. I am more comfortable with failure then I am with success. That is what some people tell me. About me. You know, because other people love to tell me about me.

I'm Jewish and though this blog began as an ode to my voice and then a recount of my inability to speak for a time, I probably should say that the truth is, despite my attributing my overall human existence to my voice and to song, really underlying it all is my Jewish identity. I am not saying it is a strong or weak identity, in fact its in constant flux and for the most part fights with itself on a daily basis, but whether i'm up one or down one in the god department (or religion department I should say, because who knows if god as anything to do with religion), the damn thing is always present. My identity that is, my JEWISH identity, that is.

It's not really that I was brought up by two devoted conservative Jewish parents and its not that I diligently attended Jewish Day school and then Yeshiva for elementary school and then high school respectively and it is probably not the predominantly Jewish town I live in (New York City AND Teaneck), not the innumerable amount of Jewish friends I have that solidify my identity as a Jew. It's not even the regularly family attended high holiday meals and synagogue services that really seal the deal for me.

No.

It is the fact that my grandfather and my grandmother, my mothers parents, two successful Jewish Educators are from Czecheslovakia and Romania, respectively and they are each survivors of the Holocaust.

I'd say that is what hits the nail into the coffin of my Jewish identity. There is no escaping it now. Once a family member survives atrocity in the name of their religion there offspring are committed. No other option. And so from a young age I was fascinated by the event, read books about it at 8 years old, dreamt about it froma young age, as though it was my own experience and I asked about it all of the time. Any open project in school I made about the Holocaust.

I also promised myself from a young age that if my grandfather survived auschwitz only to face his religion head on and win, deciding to live his life with religous conviction, depsite the persecution he (and my grandmother) endured, that I would perpetuate the same way. I would marry someone Jewish, teach my children and make sure they taught theirs. That was the only answer and it wouldn't be that hard. I'm around Jews day in and day out, I should fall in love with one of these dudes. Right?

Wrong.

Not as easy as planned and if you think that Dean is my first dabble in difference you would be wrong. Yes, I have learned my lesson before dating men who were not Jewish, who promised to lear, to change, to do anything for me and I naively accepted such weak attempts at romatic gestures, I believed them. Then just when I thought I'd finally given up on the goy toy, romeo and juliet potential love affair, I met Dean.

Complicated, though isn't everything?

Dean is Jewish, TECHNICALLY. What does technically mean? For most Jews Matrilineal descent determines your Jew status. NOT your Jewish identity, that is learned, but your Jew Status. And that is age old....if mom was a jew, if mom's mom was a jew, well then YOU are a jew.

Hitler of course saw it otherwise, if you had an ounce of Jew in you, you were Jewish, you were impure. But in religous terms its mom that is the deciding facotr, whether you like it or not, whether you call yoruself Jewish or not, law states, jewish law that is, that if your mom was a jew by birth. SO ARE YOU.

That is Dean. Actually Dean is the mother's mother's jewish example, a stretch by all means, but true. He knew nothing of it and wanted nothing to do with it.

Until I told him there was no way were dating unless Judaism could be a part of his life.

I did not say worship one god all day every day, I just meant Judaism, practices, language, cultrue had to be a part of his every day life and subsequently our every day lives. Once we had kids. And he was confused by the whole thing. I don't blame him.

So....yawn....yawn....eyes closing.....1:45 am....

I will write the rest tomorrow.......

xred out loud

ummmmmm.....

2007-11-06T22:17:00.000-05:00

Let's see....

I was traveling remote parts of the world for the last 10 days with no access to a computer let alone the internet?

Do you believe that?

If you did, would it be a reasonable excuse for my unreasonable behavior??

It has officially been over 10 days since I have updated this blog during an oh so important part of my life. I have ignored you! All of you! And I think really ignoring this blog means I have ignored myself. So I apologize, to you and, well, to myself!

So, no, the truth is, I was NOT traveling far distances, I WISH! Actually I have just been somewhat busy! I am busying myself through the mid point of my recovery process, because I began to fear for my sanity if I otherwise chose to continue sitting still and silent.

And man have I gotten busy!

I spent many years planning parties, did I ever tell you that? I promoted a saturday night party at a loud night club for 2 years straight. Then I started a job at a promotions company throwing even more parties! Yes....all kinds of parties, social, corporate, you name it. This holiday season, in my absence, they have become quite busy and I have decided that in my semi silence I will be able to consult with them on their corporate events. Woo hoo! It means commission and potential $$$$$$$$$$. Which, did I mention, I am in desperate need of.

In addition to my yet to be seen salaried job at Impulse, I have another un-salaried position working for The New York Songwriters Circle! This is a corporation I have worked for for years on a volunteer basis, hosting a show each month and booking the songwriters who play the show. Now we run an annual contest and recently have decided to incorporate ourselves. NOOOO this does not mean money, this means looking for money and working as though we are making it already! Not that I am complaining in any way, shape, or form. Working with songwriters is one of my favorite past times as a songwriter, but this is taking up loads of my worth-at-least-a-$1 time! And in addition this this!!!I am starting a company and website called Rebel Spirit Music with many details to tie up before our website launch on December 5th. Who am I doing this with you might ask?!

MY RECENT EX BOYFRIEND.

That is right people. My recent ex boyfriend who was once my boyfriend decided that LAST SUNDAY would be a great time to, well, DUMP me....ON THE PHONE!

In his defense- he did so because it would be easier that way. NOT SURE WHY THAT IS A GOOD DEFENSE, but seriously I do understand it. We have always had a volatile relationship and every time we break up for the right reasons in person it seems to be the wrong time, so he tried the phone!

Well it didn't work. I knew he was right when he did it, but for some reason my heart mixed with a little bit of my ego thought that it was totally wrong to dump your love of 7 months over the phone. We needed in person time, right?! You can't just drop something for no good reason and do it over the phone!

I should probably back up this "what was really an inevitable" break up with what were our "problems." We are from two separate worlds, or countries, two separate educational background, two separate financial backgrounds. BIGGEST DIFFERENCE is our religions.

TO BE CONTINUED

(sorry my busy schedule makes me tired by 10 pm) (SAD)

Rebel Spirit

2007-10-25T16:49:00.000-04:00

Today has been an oddly productive day, despite my 4 am rise and my 2 hour nap between the hours of 11 am and 1 pm. I got some more work done on my new website- www.rebelspiritmusic.com. Don't know how much I have let on about this, because after all this blog is supposed to be about me recovering from vocal surgery to go on and become the next Barbra Streisand or something, but I might as well give you all of me!

I am not very good at sitting still. A lot of people would giver their right arm to just "have to take" a few months off. They'd do things for and by themselves, read, travel, catch up on movies, go to museums, sleep in and so on. Not I. Sitting still makes me nervous and being unproductive makes me nervous. That may be why I have a hard time just calling myself a musician and songwriter, sitting with that and working at it. The minute I hit a creative lull I am working on another project, always music or entertainment related, don't get me wrong, I am not that renaissance.

This time around I have decided to take all of my friends who constantly do each other favors in the biz, be it design fliers, websites and such to booking friends bands at clubs they otherwise can't get into and introducing each other to "the right people" in the biz who can help make things happen. As artists we all have talents (other then musical talents) to offer one another, so I thought why not combine resources, information and try to help each other out.

So rebel spirit music came about, company name borrowed from an old company Dean used to own and the rest of the idea concocted by myself and my friend, and fantastic photographer (also massively stubborn but dynamic all the same) Nicole. Nicole is Dean's flat mate. I say flat mate now instead of roommate because Dean is English and English terms are just so much cuter then American terms!

Anyway- we have gathered lots of information, lots of supporters and even a monthly residency at one of our favorite local music venues and we are going to brand the hell out of rebel spirit! What do we do? Well it is all coming together, whether it will fall into place as an on line musicians network, an online music magazine, a monthly music event, a consulting company, or everything, it will fall!

So lucky for me- that is what has been keeping me busy all through my last few months. Maybe you thought I was sitting in silence writing my next hit record (ok it would be my first if it became a hit at all), you might think that, and perhaps it would have been a better way to spend my time. But I am pretty excited about this!

There is nothing I love more then music and the people that make it amaze me every day! SO organizing that into one little website seems to me like a productive thing to do.

Don't get me wrong- there has already been drama- Nicole and I fighting over flier designs, dean and i fighting over what belongs to who. But I just don't do anything without drama and I am terrible at letting up any control. So this and I ain't perfect. But what is! At least I didn't spend my 2 weeks in silence watching sex and the city episodes for the 78th time in a row.

Not that that sounds so bad once I write it out like that.

hmmmm......

xRed Out Loud

OMG!!

2007-10-25T04:43:00.000-04:00

Oh. My. God.

I can not believe that I have not written for so many days! I am a horrible tease! I write and write and write when I can do nothing but and now that I can speak I have forgotten about all things important! :) So now at 5:32 am on Thursday October 25th I am here!

How far back shall I take you?

On October 18th I arrived at Dr. Woo's office for my post op check up and what would be my first voice therapy session and what would be the first time I heard my voice. It was 6 days post op- meaning I did not have to wait the full 7 days, but I still think it is pretty huge that I lasted even 6 days!!! If you know me or can tell by how long my entries are, you know I have many words and I am not quiet about it.

But it was a lovely week (6 days) and truthfully it was so lovely that it got kind of addictive and between you and I, I was not that excited to begin speaking again.

I know- that sounds crazy! This is not to say I was not excited to begin my road towards singing again. THAT I was excited for....but speaking. For 6 days I did not have to answer to anyone and I mean that literally. I wrote things down of course, when I needed something or wanted to partake in a conversation, but I had this fortunate excuse when I did not want to participate, for why I couldn't. And as I had described in earlier passages it it got me out of arguments that would have ultimately escalated and that was a plus but it also prevented me from talking about how I felt about what I was going through and forced me to go through it alone, which I did not mind. I did not even want visitors, "no fun to have a visitor when you can't chat, I'd much rather be alone," I would think to myself. And I did, I thought to myself, I asked my self tons of questions and when my psycho therapist mother would ask me the dreaded question- how are you today? Is this hard for you? Are you upset? (ok that was 3 questions) I would not have to answer!

And the truth was, I wasn't upset by it! I enjoyed the silence. I never enjoyed silence before because I don't think i gave it a chance to seep in and work it magic. But there I was with only me to talk to (and of course you) (and of course my buddy list, my g chat list and e mail) (But still)!

I talked to myself about everything but mostly I thought about my relationships. My friends, my family, my boyfriend and I made realizations. I rely on my relationships to feed me, but do I feed them? And while I am so busy letting my relationships feed me, do I ever feed myself? And the answer was no, I love the attention I get from all of my relationships, I love being paid attention to it and I think being alone in the past made me hunger for that. Attention and busyness. Being ALONE meant being lonely. But my 6 day silence taught me otherwise. I could be alone, chat with myself and feel quite satisfied.

And now that I can speak again, I am excited to speak to the people I love, but I have not jumped back in and not just because my doc told me not to, but because I sort of enjoy space. And between you and I, I think it's making the people I love like me back a lot more, some people have even claimed to miss me!

I miss you too! Maybe that is a good thing!

xRed Out Loud

'Til Death Do Us Part

2007-10-18T11:33:00.000-04:00

Why do you think people choose to hurt each other and themselves instead of working hard to remain happy. It seems that, at least this generation of men and women, have decided the easier way out is to hurt and get over it then to commit, work hard and accept bad times as part of the good.

Men and women are independent and think they can probably be that way forever, so love happens less frequently. Real love, dependent love. People, I find, quit while they are ahead.

It's hard not to quit. It's hard not to quit anything you do, it's hard not to quit anything you love. If you quit, it won't hurt as much if you fail. And you will never know if you would have failed.

My friend has been seeing a man who she really felt something for. Now this is a friend who does not shy away from serious relationships. She goes for it each time, works at it, analyzes it, give it a good chance. They just seem to fail for one reason or another. Generally she gives up on them, after good thought, she decides it is not for her, one reason or another.

Only this time, the man she was seeing decided to give up on her. He decided it wasn't the right time for him, that if he ended it now, it would save them both. And she is devastated. I would be too. Afterall, she was ready to go for it, she was ready to try, despite the long distance (this was a bicaostal relationship), despite the difference in life/religous practice. She would try. She liked him, afterall. Why quit?

Well, apparently he thought it would be easier that way. So he did.

The truth is that people survive. We are all survivors. Things falter and we recover. We do. It is only natural. And the only advice to ever give to an ailing friend is that with time it will pass, you will move on and, inevitably, you will be happy. So maybe quitting is not so bad. You all end up ok. Scars and all.

I think about my career quite often. What should I do with it, how can I be more successful, how many road blocks should I overcome to get there? I mean I am pursuing music, there is no delineated path. You just walk it and whatever turn the path decides to make you have to follow it. There are peaks and valleys, successes, failures and the worst- plateaus. I think it is during the plateaus that I wonder, what am I doing here. I am for the most part broke, I am no where that I have not been and I am still standing, but where am I going. All of my other friends experience success, they seem to move ahead in whatever career path they have chosen. What about me?

Should I just quit?

And I think that, I wonder if I should just quit, while I am ahead. I mean it's not as though nothing has ever gone right for me in my career. I have had great experiences with my music. I could leave it here and pursue an entire different happiness. Not sure what it would be, but I am often sure, if I quit it would hurt, but I would end up happy in the end. I mean doesn't everyone find happiness??

But I don't think so. I am not sure that is true in love. And I love music as much as I've loved any man. And believe me, listen to my songs, I have loved. So why would I quit when I was ahead. What happened to 'til death do us part. What happened to feeling love and then committing to that feeling. Working for it.

No one on earth would tell you that love is going to be easy. No one in their right mind would tell you that pursuing something you love, a passion, is going to be easy.

So I don't quit, I keep going. Maybe if people worked for their passion in love and in life there would be less quitting and much more succeeding.

Life is not perfect and moving on is possible. There are situations that are worth getting out of, but there are other situations that are hard, but worth sticking to. I watch my friend in tears and I wish that this man would have tried for something I think was a great thing.

I look at myself in the mirror, voiceless, musicless and I think to myself, why would I give up? Even here, even at my lowest point? Why would I give up now on something I'm in love with? Just because its hard?

I won't. Til death do us part.

xRed Out Loud

Choose Your Words Wisely

2007-10-17T22:54:00.001-04:00

Well Everyone, tomorrow is my 7th day of silence and, wahoo, I get to speak. Here's the catch I am alloted about 3-5 minute per hour per day for the next 7 days. I can't decide which will be harder for me. 7 straight days on no talking at all or 7 days where it's just simply a tease to speak. I will have to choose which words are worth saying, which words are not.

I will say that certain people have a knack for choosing their words wisely, and those people probably stay out of loads of trouble, that I find myself getting into on a consistent basis. Trouble for me ranges from being friendly to too many of the wrong people, flirting back with men just to make them feel good, ending up with friends I just did not want in the first place. And then, well, there are my opinions. I have a lot of them and I don't hide them. If I don't like what someone is wearing I'll say it, if I don't like what they say, I will say it. Then of course there is the matter of my loved ones. I am a fighter and I never let things rest unless I feel I have gotten the last word. Basically, what I am trying to say is I am a tough one, I use massive amounts of words and voice to get points across. I am not shy.

So this week, you can imagine, must have been trying. But in fact, I have gotten used to not speaking. I have gotten used to listening and I have gotten used to thinking the things I would say but not saying them. And guess what, I have averted many arguments I otherwise would have had. When you are forced to listen and not speak, you hear what the other person says, you think about, you digest it, because you have to and then you just look back. That is all you have. Your stare. And let me tell you, it gets your point across and hurts the person much less.

For example, in my weak state my mother thought tonight would be a good time to ask me if I'd like to go back to grad school. My mother is constantly supportive of my career goals while trying to divert me as at once, to calm her fears in some way or another. Oh, the Jewish mother. Oh, the mother in general. Normally I'd have yelled, screamed, said horrible things. But all I could do was roll my eyes, look at her and pitifully mouth, "you are going to do this right now?" My dad said, "well, we worry about you." And again, all I had were my eyes and a little chin jut. And miraculously, the conversation ended. No words on my part, no nothing. It ended, I got their point, they got mine. And no one cried! It was brilliant. Actually it was miraculous, really.

Then, the downside, I am limited to IM, e mail, text and a notepad. Today, my friend was dumped by her boyfriend. Dumped, my best friend. For the first time in her life. And I could not even call her. I had to pacify her through g chat. I feel incapacitated and I feel I am a bad friend.

And here is the worst! Or maybe it is for the best. Tomorrow I am meeting Dean's mother for the first time. She is here from England and I will not be able to say more then "hello, how are you?" How about that for dilemma?

I guess there are perks and downsides. Life in general, right?

Tomorrow I get words back. But not all of them. So I will have to choose now. I can't fall back on my inability to speak, but I can't go all out screaming and yelling all the time. I will have to think before speaking, decide when its worth it and when it's not, and make sure I get my points across, succinctly.

I will have to choose my words wisely...which will be much more of a challenge then choosing none at all.

xRedoutloud

A Letter from a fan

2007-10-17T12:35:00.000-04:00

A letter I wrote to one of my favorite bloggers, or rather newletter writers- Bob Lefsetz. He gets it. So well, that I felt the need to respond this time! I guess with time on your hands there are no bounds ;) You can read his blog at www.lefsetz.com

Read below;
Dear Bob,

I am an avid reader of your blog and I wanted to let you know that this week it has come in handy in a most particular way. You see, I am an artist, a singer, a songwriter and I believe in music as you believe in music. From artists mouths to the listening ear. That is the heart of music and that is why music persists. Though I am at the crux of the age of the MTV generation, I too am made to feel sick and disappointed by the ongoing reality TV shows, the utterly horrible game shows and the unfortunate lack of, well MUSIC, that this supposed Music Television station claims to offer.

This week I have spent 6 days in silence. About 3 months ago I found out that I had a cyst on my most precious bodily organ. My Vocal Cord. 6 days ago I had it removed and over the next 2 months I will undergo therapy to not only get my singing voice back, but also to get my speaking voice back. I am not a quiet person, I don't listen well and I talk a lot! So this challenge has been a great one for me. But I did something, well two things (along with catching up on your blog), I had never done before. 1)I kept a diary of my experience, which means I slowed down long enough to do so and 2)I listened to music.

You see it's funny, as an artist you spend your days making music, writing, playing, practicing, honing your craft. I, in particular, love to work, play and write with other artists. It's a passion of mine to create original words, melodies and to share it, with whomever will listen. But I find over time that as my own music becomes my focus I stop listening to music. Ironic, I guess. You would think an artist, musician, would constantly be in touch with the artists and albums that have influenced them. But as hours during the day tend to get shorter and shorter I make less and less time to listen. Song by song, note by note.

This last e mail of yours, regarding Little Big Town, a band I also love, made me think about that. And in my silence I yearned for music, not just to sing it, but to listen to it. So I took out old cd's and I listened to them from start to finish. And I guess it does not really matter which ones, but it matters that I did it. I took the journey again with different artists that have spoken to me in different ways from Levon and the Band to, well, old Ella F.

And it brought back music to me. It was great. If the phone rang, I could not answer it, if someone spoke to me I could not speak back. But I could listen....

Thanks for keeping it real, for loving music for the right reasons. Hopefully people will catch on to you as I have.

Have a good one.

Deena

http://redoutloud.blogspot.com/
www.myspace.com/deenagoodman
- Show quoted text -

CARNEGIE HALL

2007-10-17T00:51:00.000-04:00

I Just rubbed my eyes full of mascara, that is how tired I am, but I must at least begin this entry!

I sang at Carnegie Hall. I mentioned, at least twice, that this day was coming, but I never told you about it! I never told you about the day of, the day of rehearsals the afternoon before, the artists, the glory, the excitement. EVERYTHING!

How many times do you get to say this and mean it? IT WAS FABULOUS!!!!! No better word! Roger Mcguinn, Phoebe Snow, Shawn Colvin, Ryan Shaw! They loved us and we loved them. All was right in the world! To not only share the stage with Fools For April but also with these true artists was just about the only way I could have seen myself spending my last moments singing.

On stage and bloody Carny Hall (as Dean refers to it in English accent).

There's more, more, more! But to sleep I must. I believe that sleep is a large part of healing and I only have 2 more days to heal....so...

Goodnight!
x Red Out Loud

Sounds of Silence

2007-10-17T00:32:00.001-04:00

10 sounds to make without your voice:

1)clicking heels
2)stomping feet
3)deep breaths
4)open/close of the refrigerator door
5)pouring water
6)heart beat (not in a silly way, but for real- listen- it speaks your moods when your words can't)!
7)grinding teeth
8)sniffing nose
9)typing keyboard (there are happy, sad, angry, bored typing rhythms)
10)clapping hands

All of these sounds work to communicate, not deeply, but at least to communicate, get attention, get a message across. Anything! Try it! I dare you all to try a fast of words, even for a day. These 10 sounds will mean much more to you then they ever have before!

Day 5

2007-10-16T10:30:00.000-04:00

So here I am day 5, episode 32 of Weeds, Nancy is embezzling money from a fake city to buy and sell weed to take care of her kids and Celia has to take care of her abhorred injured ex husband. No one gets a break in the this show, in most shows I find that no one really ever catches a break, how could they? If people caught a break, there would be no show.....

I suppose like life, if I caught a break, my life would be smooth sailing but it would probably be boring. So here I am in my millionth dilemma, not a break in site...and I can't even talk about it! Now don't read this entry as bitter, I am not bitter, I appreciate the challenges I face. The big ones like: lose a lover, learn about yourself. Lose an audition, there is something better around the corner. Watch others succeed around you, don't be jealous, just work harder. Love and success are hard to come by, so there are bound to be bumps in the road. You learn. You work. You progress. That is great. All good and well.

I never thought one of my dilemmas would include losing what came easiest to me, my voice, probably the most instinctual move your body can make. Speak, answer when spoken to, respond, emote and for me and other lucky people, sing. It's one of those many, well, bodily functions, that most people take for granted. You do bad things to it, you do good things to it, you pay no attention to it at all, but still you assume it will be there regardless.

And that is how I treated my voice. I never ignored it. I loved it. But I would not say I treated it as my most prized possession, per se. I mean I can't count the drunken smoke filled nights I spent trudging all over my poor cords, mostly after I found out about my first injury. But it was all in the name of fun, right? And before my injury, I can't tell you how many times I sang my ass off, for so long, that the redness in my cords seeped through to the skin on my neck. But it was all for the love of the craft. Right? If I hit that high note 67 times instead of 65 I felt myself a winner! Glorious feeling to sing, to let out notes that when translated into emotion released the deepest parts of my worried soul. And even in the depths of that very soul I never thought I would ruin this part of myself, maybe for good even.

And I was not naive, I'd seen friends go through it. It is not that unusual that singers experience vocal problems, that singers undergo therapy or other types of treatment to fix an injured instrument. But I was just never going to be one of those people. It's funny as I write this I realize I must sound like one of those ads for protected sex, or something, where you see a young pregnant teenager explaining that she'd never thought it would be her, or some poor young man explaining he never thought he's be the one to end up with Herpes, or, worse, HIV.

Ok- so my bump in the road, not THAT big. But in a way, I relate to those folks. I never thought it would be me. And if you ask anyone else, they'd agree. Deena Goodman, lose her voice? Deena Goodman make it through 7 days (I realize I am only on day 5, but I intend to make it through) without voice use at all??

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I am here to say, it can happen to you, it can happen to anyone, and it happened to me.

This would sound cliche if it was not a reality, but it is. I am sitting here in Day 5 with my computer on my lap itching to just HUMMM a note but not being able to and being forced to in turn wonder if I ever will be able to. I have not heard my voice for 6 days, minus a slip up. I won't lie. As you know I accidentally spoke one word being woken up from a nap, but still. It was not loud enough, or long enough to hear. And all can think about is how do I sound, how will I sound, how hard will it be to speak again, how different will my voice sound and will I be able to sing?

Will I be able to sing? Will I be able to sing?

A question I never thought I would ask out loud. A road block I never thought I'd face. A break I never thought I'd hope for.

x Red Out Loud

In SIlence and In Health

2007-10-15T15:44:00.000-04:00

Right now I am about 3 and a half days into silence and if you think that means that my last 84 hours were relaxing, drama free, sex and the city marathons...you would be wrong. Oh no, in fact I have barely made it through a movie. There have been loving visitors, guest attended meals, dvr catch up and of course, no weekend goes by without a fight or two with my boyfriend. One might think that in silence who could fight, one might think that who would consider challenging a poor voiceless soul. Well let me tell you.... Dean has decided ever since I told him not to keep anything bottled up that he should always be forthright about how he feels, no matter the situation, even if that means telling me any and every time he deems my behavior abhorrent, or horrible, as he likes to call it.

Thanks Dean! Thank you for deeming my reaction to being woken up by my father and thereby saying one word out loud, one MORE word then my weeks word allotment, as horrible. You are probably right- letting something so small like speaking with a cut up vocal cord bother me is so, well, wrong! Being stressed out while not being able to express myself in any way- that must be wrong too.

What do you think this is, some sort of a vacation?

It's not.

It's an odd thing how lovers deal with each other in times of need. The people that are supposed to be the most understanding, the most comforting, more comforting then even a mothers touch, are most often the most unable to help. This could be because they are uncomfortable watching someone they love feel hurt or incapacitated or because the injured loved one does not want to to let their said lover make them feel any better.

It's hard for two people to let themselves be there for each other. Vulnerability, we are told and have been told for ages, is the hardest state to allow oneself to be in. So I am not writing today to put down Dean, he is wonderful to me, but for some reason in my vulnerability as patient and his vulnerability as caretaker we have been, well, HORRIBLE to each other.

Strangely though in the absence of my regular ability to communicate we have had to resort to typing, e mailing which means, wait for it....thinking before speaking! And oddly this has been effective, more honest and more hurtful in turn, but at least efficient and hopefully effective. We heard each other, in the silence, actually heard what the other was saying. I'm uncomfortable being out of commission, he is uncomfortable watching me in pain, he has trouble with needy, so do I. And we pissed each other off, in silence. And we made up in silence.

I don't know if it's a good sign or a bad sign that even in silence my boyfriend and I fight. If I should feel badly that I have trouble relying on someone I love or that he might have trouble being there for someone that he loves back.

Or maybe this is not a sign at all, maybe its another small argument between people who really just want to be close to each other, in silence and in health.

x
red out loud

Silence Becomes Me

2007-10-12T14:58:00.000-04:00

Forecast for surgery, weather wise, was sunny. And though it was not sunny at all when I began my trip to the hospital this morning, it was certainly sunny when I left and for fear of cheesy metaphors it was sunny for me inside and out. Strangely I was relieved, happy and sort of interested in my new found silence.

When I arrived at the hospital this morning at 6:45 am (that is correct people, 15 minutes late-go figure), I actually convinced my father to take hold of the camera (I felt 6 am was too early for my dear, sweet Nicole) and shoot my entrance to the hospital, or to my fate, as I like to dramatically put it.

It is strange to walk into the hospital for an appointment for surgery. The appointments I am used are for pedicures, hair cuts, facials, maybe a standard check up of some sort, teeth cleaning. I have never walked into an appointment to have my vocal cords cut and put back together. I have never been put out with general anasthesia and I have never had an IV. I guess when and if I ever pictured myself on an operating table, it was probably in some imagined scenario replicating some scene I had scene on ER or Grey's Anatomy. I'm wheeled in on a stretcher and opened up right then and there to fix some sort of emergency situation. Yes, I am a hypochondriac and yes, I am a bit dramatic.

In any case, THIS was not how I pictured it. I walked in with my mother, registered, got past the surgery admissions by just handing them my insurance card (all fears of having to pay in full averted) and I waited. I was called into a changing room where I placed my clothing in a bag and sat in a chair and waited. I was lucky to be accompanied by my mother and eventually my father. They'd managed to both remain inside the room despite the one visitor per person policy. We waited. My dad taped a bit, played around with his new i phone and my mother tried to comfort me. I pretended to be calm as best I could, but my tapping feet gave me away. Truthfully, I was nervous about the actual surgery and I was nervous about the impending 7 day silence, but what was on my mind most immediately was getting the actual IV. The thought of a needle and then a tube stuck under thin skin for even just a few minutes grossed me out entirely.

After the changing room I had to say goodbye to my father, I would have had to say goodbye to my mother but she pushed her way into the holding room with me. She has a way with that. She sat with me as different doctors, med students, residents, nurses all came in to introduce themselves to me, as if this was some fun trip we were about to embark upon. Yipppeee!

Then my hero Dr. Carroll found me. She is my speech pathologist the one who will inevitably help me to speak again, once this loooong silent week is over. I did not realize she would actually come on the day of my surgery. But there she was to distract me from my own nerves. She held my hand all the way into the operating room and helped me hoist myself onto the operating table! Yes, there is no wheeling you in on some kind of stretcher, as seen in movies, no. You walk right in, lie down, see all of the instruments around you and then, THEN, they stuff the IV into you.

There I was, Dr. Carroll holding my hand, a bunch of med students and residents standing in a group chatting with each other, Dr. Woo enters, pats me on the back, a nurse sticks a needle in my arm, misses, finds a better vein, hits it this time and Dr. Reid, my anesthesiologist asks me if I am ready. He tells me they are just going to give me a little bit of medicine, my head may feel funny, I tell him I can handle it and the next thing I know I lose control, my head falls in, it burns and then I am out.

Beep, beep, beep....what felt like a moment later and I thought that I must be waking up mid surgery. With no control over my muscles, limbs, mind or mouth all I can think is that someone has to tell them I am waking up! Mid surgery! Then a calm voice says, that's it, you did it, you are done, you did great. Phew....so this is what people meant when they say "and then a minute later, it's over!" Ohhhh....

I had done it. I went down, I rose and I did not speak a word once I had. All I wanted to do was thank everyone, touch everyone, hug everyone. I knew I could not say anything out loud so I just mouthed- thank you to everyone I could see. Then I started shivering, uncontrollably. Apparently that is normal, something about your muscles coming back into action. Nurses chatting all around me, to me, not realizing I am on voice rest, then realizing it and still chatting. I did not care- I as just happy that somehow without my voice I was communicating, or people were at least communicating with me! I finally came to and I just could not wait to get out of there. I actually felt great, my throat burned, but the fact that I had made it through surgery and was one step closer to hearing my voice again overshadowed everything! I wanted to see my mom, my dad, my boyfriend, my friends anyone!

But I couldn't, not until I peed at least. A major step towards the recovery/release room. This part may sound weird, but I am not censoring this experience, not a second of it. Once I could feel myself again, under many warm blankets I felt the immediate urge to pee. Because I was not completely back to my senses I was not allowed to get up and go to the restroom. No one had described this part to me. The part where you slowly regain your bodily functions, public and private. I could not speak so with all of the energy I had in my body (which was very little) I lifted my right hand pointed to my bladder and the nurse in her Phillipino accent responded and said, in full voice, that she would run and get the bed pan.

Through my haze I thought, WHAT?! No way in hell am I going to pee in a public recovery room, in a plastic bin, in the shape of a toilet seat. NO WAY. Fear not- it seems the sensation was just that, a sensation. I laid on this plastic bin for a while to no avail, when the nurse finally removed it and told me to try and take a nap. Take a nap....that should be easy, I have this undying sensation that I need to pee and a man in the bed next to me whining his head off about one thing or another, not to mention an increasingly burning pain in my throat. And of course- no one to talk to about it.

Lucky for me, and i find this to most often be the case, I ran into a few people that I knew! Right there in the recovery room. My old friend Marguite, from Highschool and College was there on a visiting rotation and she saved the day by bringing over some paper and a pen to me and sharing in some voiceless catch up and gossip. Passed the time away. Before I knew it Dr. Woo was in to check on me, asked me to hum a few bars and then told me to shut up for the next week.

Eventually- after peeing not once, but twice, in the real bathroom, I got wheeled in a wheel chair (this part is just like the movies) into the final recovery room, where they took out the blasted IV had me sign some papers and escorted me out to my parents. Actually luckily enough for me a dear friend of our family was on call in the hospital that day and came to my rescue, escorting me earlier then expected out to my parents!

My father explained the the surgery had gone well, I hugged them both, I don't think I realized how much I actually missed them! I began writing away to them dropping my two written prescriptions somewhere along the way, only needing to have them refilled over the phone hours later.

I was free. Free and Captive all at once. I could hear the world, but the world could not hear me. I could peer out but no one could peer in. I sat in the back seat with my mother and my father chaueffered us home, no one having any idea what the next few days would be like.

7 Day Forecast!

2007-10-09T09:06:00.000-04:00

I can not imagine what the days ahead of me will hold. I keep looking in any direction to gain some sort of hint or sign, but nothing. The only sense of what the future will hold for me is in the forecast, at least I know if the sun will shine or rain will pour. In a way it gives me some confidence. At least I know those days will actually come and go with some semblence of weather conditions!

It could be worse!

Fri
Oct 12

Few Showers
59°/48° 30%

6 Good
Check Your Local Event Forecast
Sat
Oct 13

Few Showers
58°/46° 30%

7 Good
Sun
Oct 14

Mostly Sunny
62°/46° 10%

8 Very Good
Mon
Oct 15

Mostly Sunny
63°/48° 20%

8 Very Good
Tue
Oct 16

Sunny
63°/48° 20%

8 Very Good
Wed
Oct 17

Sunny
65°/50° 10%

9 Very Good
Thu
Oct 18

Partly Cloudy
66°/50° 10%

9 Very Good

5:58 AM

2007-10-06T05:58:00.000-04:00

It is 5:58 am. I am awake by accident. It is now officially 6 and a half days until the doctor scratches up my vocal cords. that makes it 6 and a half days until I enter a 7 day silence. Which at first sounded like a funny joke to me, I mean what better a punishment for years of big mouthing it then to have to shut up for 7 days, but I must say I am really nervous about it. Not because it won't be fun, not because I will be lonely and not because I won't be able to communicate, but literally because I am afraid I won't be able to do it. I am sort of scared that I will actually just forget to keep quiet, that I will unravel, give up, or worse speak in my sleep. My speech pathologist told me I can not make a sound, not even cough, not laugh, not nothing.

So now I am up at 5:58 am on a Saturday morning thinking about how I am going to get through these 7 days. And in thinking about how, I sort of start to think, why?

Why do I care this much about my voice. I've just had 3 months off, 3 months, and I am not sure what I have accomplished. I have not been working, I have not been writing any new material and I have not been pushing my music in any which direction at all. All of the video footage that I have taken for the documentary is sitting on hard drive in my boyfriend's apartment waiting to be edited. I've tried, but it's difficult and time consuming and I don't really know how to use the program. I have this blog, but I have not figured out how to upload photos or make it look like anything more then a standard on line blog.

Basically, I am stuck, stuck and can't even sleep through it. It is strange to fall so low and not really know what to do about it other then wait and see how things pan out.

SILENCE

2007-10-02T16:47:00.000-04:00

Days after my last entry I write with good and bad news. Lots of it.

#1 I have rescheduled my surgery for October 12th, since I have been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to sing at Carnegie Hall on the 10th and felt that rescheduling my surgery was worth that show. So the good news is that I did not have to wait long for a new date and the bad news is I am only 10 days away from my upcoming 7 day SILENCE.

#2 In rescheduling my surgery I found out that my insurance will in fact cover part of this cost if I do want to go with the number 1 doctor of choice. Good news is- I get to use a widely known and trusted doctor in this field. Bad news is- he is not half as hot as the "covered by my insurance" doctor (also a talented one). But I suppose in the case of your life- hot is not what counts. Whatever....

#3 I am half way towards booking my company's first big event (and my return to social life event) taking place on December 5th at the Rockwood Musichall! YAY!!! Go www.rebelspiritmusic.com!

And that is that. All the Good and Bad news.

Last night I had a dream about silence, I was silent throughout the entire dream, on the subway, in stores and whatever else I did in my dream for the day. It was not easy and I know it wont be easy. i cant imagine the kind of things I will come up with when the only person I can talk to for 7 days is myself.

Should be an interesting Journey. I will say, it is making both my parents and my boyfriend a little happier then I would have expected- ouch ;)!

Validated

2007-09-18T10:45:00.000-04:00

Strangely, an on line blog somewhat validates your otherwise "unidentifiable" life. One minute you are just another girl walking the streets, running your errands, doing your job (whatever that may be), dating the men you date, surviving the drama that impacts most anyone's life at one time or another: family, friends, love, hate. Or maybe you are one of those people that does not have drama on a regular level, maybe its worse. Either way, writing it down makes it all the more real and at the same time can take you out of it. So people write and now, thanks to the internet, people can write about and show it to the world. And then maybe get a book deal, or advertising or some kind of reward that turns your everyday life into something spectacular, makes you feel big and I suppose "Identifiable." Some feel the book deal part is meaning and I feel the validating my otherwise empty days much more meaningful, even if i'm the only one to read this thing.

I literally write this blog because I have no one else to talk to during my days in waiting. Plus, I am really not supposed to talk out loud that much, which for me is the most drama I've had in a long time. Worse then any boy drama, friend drama, hell, even family drama, is the thought that I cant speak out loud. OUT LOUD.

SO in a way- this blog, whether anyone is reading it or not, validates my boring and QUIET existence and since i am not afraid to share most of my life with the people that do read it, you actually get some fun little stories and tid bits. I'm VALIDATED!

So in news. I CAN"T USE THE HOT DOC. Boo hoo. But the reason is good, and that is the fact that my idiot insurance company has finally agreed to cover most of my surgery bill with my first choice (older and less hot, but more experienced- one must prioritize) doctor!

Yay!

And in finding out that I would once again need to push off my date of inevitable surgery I freed up October 10th just as my friend Dov from the band Fools for April asked me to join him, THAT NIGHT, singing on stage at Carnegie Hall for the Elton John Tribute. Yes, that is a bill that includes Fools for April, ummm....Joss Stone, Pheobe Snow, Shawn Colvin and AIMEE MANN! (and me)!

Yay!

Last night at the New York Songwriter's Circle. Ari Hest, James Maddock, Matt Mayfield and the glorious Hugh Prestwood. One of my favorite nights to host and not just because Ari is a cutie! Well done gentlemen.

www.songwriters-circle.com

bye now!

Deep Thoughts by Red Out Loud: What to Do with Loads of Free Time

2007-09-16T22:30:00.001-04:00

It's weird to live life and not actually do anything. Literally spending days biding time. In my life absence or absence of life I have aquired an addiction. To TV. And it makes sense to me. I mean, think about it, if your life is in limbo what else would you want to do? Watch a million lives that are not your own and pretend you are accomplishing what they are. yay.

I can't tell you how many minutes of this wait time I spend thinking about what I else I could do with my so called life. You would think when you lose your voice, you are a singer and you can't sing all you would think about would be singing, performing, playing music- things obvious like that. Not me. I think of everything else I could be, everyone else I could be. This may seem depressing to you, but it doesnt actually make me sad. It is just sort of something I do to pass my time. I suppose the sad part of it is that I could be doing some work towards my ultimate goal, but it seems without the product to sell I can't do any of the prep work either. Writing, meeting, none of it. So I am working on other people and other people's goals, diving head first into other people's lives. The way I do with my favorite TV characters.

Please watch the following shows if you too are looking for a diversion from your reality or lack there of:

Californication: mysoginistic but playful parody of life as a writer in LA. It tries to be deep and may achieve just that eventually, however at this point it simply morally derails women and their roles in LA society, something women in LA (forgive me for generalizing) have probably asked for.

Mad Men: Seemingly mysoginistic, but really only a depiction of an utterly mysoginistic, bigoted, closed hearted time period in our history. Cant blame them for acting and writing the truth. Intelligent gaze into the hearts and minds and flaws of all those personalities that made it up: buttoned up executives with lots to hide, Doris day housewives with lots to hide, working girls with lots to hide and even bohos with lots to hide. Seems mans tragic flaw has corrupted our world, work and home, for a very long time.

Tell Me You Love Me: 4 couples in different stages of their relationships explore the problems that go with them. FIghting through issues that in an ideal world would be worked through, but in real life might just remain issues to be worked through. Constantly.

All shows prove life, love and the pursuit of happiness (ah the age old cliche) are borderline unachievable at best.

Sould I take a hint?

Maybe it is no wonder that all three of these shows get me each time! I will blame it on the time I have, so much so that I can write to you about it all, or maybe its the 3 diet cokes I drank tonight keeping me up. I'm not supposed to drink Diet coke, but with 3 weeks until my surgery I have somehow deemed all inappropriate treatment of my voice allowable.

Stupid, really.

Cut to me at this very moment....About to sleep in my boyfriends empty bed in brooklyn while he rides DIsney land with his little nephews, my best friend is also my boyfriends roomate, she's in her bedroom lost again over her on and off boyfriend and there is a clock ticking above my head. Loudly.

Good thing I have ear plugs.

Dr. Michael J. Pitman

2007-08-27T11:57:00.000-04:00

I found him. My surgeon. He came into my life out of the blue and I fell hard!

Seriously, friends, that is what it is like when you suffer from a medical problem that you just want to get taken care of, you are having problems with your insurance company and no one will work with you and suddenly you find a doctor, who is good at what he does, who takes your insurance and suddenly all is right in the world, all is in sync. Like falling in love. I am in medical love with Dr. Michael J. Pitman.

My insurance woes seem to be a thing of the past, my surgery is scheduled, my doctor is not only talented he is hot for gods sake!

September 26th, 2007, the cyst will be happily removed from the vocal chord so that i can continue my journey towards rock stardom, or at least so I can continue my journey somewhere and if that doesn't pan out, at least I can sing about it!

Crash, burn, crumble. My father tells me on Friday evening that September 26th, in fact, will not be my surgery date because he and my mother have planned a vacation for themselves that they are not willing to cancel. Which I suppose I understand, I mean they only go away on vacation about 4 times a year, so giving up this one would indefinitely ruin their lives. Now, because my doctor only does surgery the first and third wednesday of the month I have to put this surgery off another 2 weeks instead of one week. I appreciate my parents and their supportive attitude about what I do and what I am going through, but I would honestly rather get this over with now then have them in town when I get this over with. Basically, the bottom line here is that right now for the moment I am pissed as hell at my own creators for not shelling out whatever dough it is to postpone their trip by a week or two so that I can finish with this issue already. Not to mention that I am in fact an adult, at an age I'd rather not reveal, which entitles me the right to make my own decision, so that if i want to have this surgery while they are away they have no right to tell me I can't.

And that is my vent for the day, now its not my insurance, its not my trip to LA, its my parents getting in the way. An addition to my streak of bad luck. What to do.

In other news, because my inability to sing has caused me an inability to pursue my music personally and professionaly in general I have taken on a new project. Remember Mr. Derek James from one of my earlier entries? Well he has approached me and asked me for some help on his career. It happens to be that I know an exorbitant amount of people in this small New York music business and he seems to think I can help him get somewhere. So I booked him an opening slot on my friend and Geffen Recording artist Matt White's October tour, I booked him a slot at the New York City Marathon and we are working on some more fun things for Derek.

It is definitely a strange thing to transfer energy from my own career onto someone else's but in a way its humbling and its a great way to come up with ideas to help him and also to help myself in the long run.

And call me crazy, but out of all of this new artist management craziness, my boyfriend Dean and I decided to start up a company to manage and promote artists. We are calling it Rebel Spirit. Yes I know mixing business with pleasure can lead to disaster and with my luck it probably will, but still, at this point in my life I spend every day on the couch awaiting my surgery, so why not busy myself with something productive and music I believe in!

There you have it.

x,
red out loud

Arlene's with Atomictom!

2007-08-15T16:35:00.000-04:00

What an amazing show I had at Arlene's Grocery with Atomictom. I have not written about it as of yet and its been 3 weeks, one show and a 2 week trip to LA since then, but I must include it in this blog, because it was a big part of my "months before surgery."

Luke White of the Manhattan based band, Atomictom, is a dear friend, a dear person and a great talent. He and I have known each other for many years and have watched each other perform shows all over Manhattan. Finally we made great big plans to do a big show together, my last in NYC before my trip to LA and my break from performing.

It was a fantastic night, PACKED house (thank you to all of you that made it out) and the new band I tried out was wonderful (many members of my original band were out on the road with other artists). We worked out free drink tickets (with the help of the Major Who Team) to be given to all those in attendance and people had a blast. Luke and I were stoked and all went well.

I was more conscious then ever about singing, there were no throw away lines, no throw away notes, every moment counted to me because the truth is I just have no idea when I will be able to perform for my loyal new york friends and fans (or for anyone for that matter) again. It was emotional, it was scary and it was an absolute triumph!

The show was a perfect send off for my trip to LA, which you can read about below, was a super success and I can not wait to get back there!

x
Red Out Loud

Sicko

2007-08-15T16:00:00.000-04:00

I have not seen the movie Mr. Moore calls his greatest piece, but I am now experiencing American Healthcare system personally, so why see the movie?

I need surgery on my vocal cords so that I can possibly achieve a career in music, one I have been pushing for since I am young. The only problem is that I am finding out that my insurance may not cover this surgery. No good reason other then the fact that I have only been on my insurance for three consecutive months. Here in this country you must not only have insurance, you must have it for at least 12 months consecutively if you want to have any medical needs covered. Surgery that is. So if you are just reading this and are just recognizing that you need to get yourself some health insurance, please a) get it and then b) dont plan on walking outside because if you, let's say, god forbid, get hit by a car you will have to live with your injuries for over a year if you want your health insurance provider to give you any money towards your need. Oh, unless you are rich, then you can pay THOUSANDS of dollars just to sit in a hospital and fix it yourself.

I found out about this injury to my vocal chords three months into my insurance membership, my first attempt to deal with my problem was to see a doctor out of my network, then to try and switch up to an insurance plan that he might accept then to find out that a new insurance plan would count this as a preexisting condition, then to find out that maybe I might pay my doctor out of pocket and still have my hospital stay covered, then to find out that most doctors only participate with the hospital, to then find out that there is a doctor in my network who is capable of this surgery to then find out it still may not be covered because of my short membership with my insurance company. My options are looking like I either will have to BEG to have this done, because without this surgery I will be stuck at home, with no way of making money until March which is when I would LEGALLY be allowed to have this surgery and be sure my insurance would cover it, my other option is to pay $15000 for this surgery. $10,000 of which goes to my hospital stay. This is an in and out procedure, so im not sure why 2 hours in the hospital costs $10,000. If you must know, the professional who is going to actually fix my instrument would only cost about $4,000 which is a reasonable price, in my opinion, to save your life blood!

This is my precarious situation. I sit, I wait, I talk to insurance companies and billing managers at doctors offices all day. It's amazing.

The Mint

2007-08-01T04:50:00.000-04:00

I wonder when my next show will be. Tonight I played my last scheduled show before my potentially scheduled vocal surgery. It was incredible. My first out of town show, here in LA and I brought out about 50 people, lots of industry and many new faces. The sound was great, everyone at the mint was so accommadating and my voice was in excellent shape. "The Secret" and the additionaly steroids really came in handy!

I started the night playing with Fools For APril- it was a blast to sing backgrounds for them, then I had my band come up and weplayed a set. It seemed to be well received, there was some talking in the audience, but there was also a lot of applause and a lot of great feedback after! A reporter from the Jewish Journal wants to discuss a potential piece, I have a meeting set with a potential lawyer and I met 2 of my myspace fans which was amazing!

I am now wired because we went to Swingers for food and drink and I am still on a high from the show- which is what I love so much about performing....

My voice felt today as though I had willed away my injury- and wouldn't that be a dream....we shall see...all i know is performing is addictive and I cant wait to get back up!

Thanks to all who made it out and helped me make this very successful!

More to come!

The night before

2007-07-30T22:27:00.000-04:00

Tonight is the night before my show at the Mint. So far I have spent a very relaxing day for the most part on my own. I had a quick meeting at BMI- the publishing network I am attached to. These are non profit organizations that handle royalties for artists and in turn are great for artist relations. Well I have no royalties as of yet....but I do like to network and relate, so this meeting was a fun one. I am not sure how much they can actually help me, but its good to meet people in the business out here, even if everyone's answer seems to be that its just hard. Well, hard does not scare me! Then I met with my friend Elana who recently got married, we had coffee at the infamous coffee bean and tea leaf (here in bev hills), I went and ate some dinner on my own, read more of THE SECRET in order to maintain my positive attitude and now I am in my temporary LA apartment (Thank you JOSH ALTMAN)!

My boyfriend and I had a great idea today. We decided he should come and meet me out here. I figure by Sunday I could use some company, moral support, vacation fun (plus will be nice to have him take me out to eat since I am basically broke)!- Just kidding, baby.

Well this all started as a happy go lucky idea, figured should be easy to put into place, however my boyfriend recently moved here from London and has a UK credit card and an american debit/credit card, one which is not taking on www.cheaptickets.com. Note to self, never use cheaptickets.com again! Dean (my love) is English, VERY, his accent is strong, strong , strong. And while he thinks most people should understand it, well, they don't. I only recently began to understand what he says to me (perhaps indicating the reason for the success of our relationship- who knows ;)). Anyway- no matter which way either of us put his credit card information in, the system simply would not budge. Please keep in mind- this was over the course of 2 hours....my internet here running slow and the dogs at home tearing apart the apartment on Deans end. No matter how many times we tried the only thing we could manage was to incur the 5 dollar processing fee over and over again, but no ticket purchase.

Finally we were brain enouh to switche avenues, went through priceline and jetblue and Dean arrives at 10 pm on Sunday night.

Phew!

now all I have to worry about is my set list, my voice, my show and my turnout tomorrow! That's nothing compared to this tickets disaster!

I am thrilled about tomorrow night. I have added a keyboard player and percussionist to my set and it sounds brilliant. We were able to rehearse in a super cool rehearsal space in Hllywood called Coles....very stripped and rustic but cool all the same. My percussionist, whose last name really is Lovejoy, brought many percussion toys along with him to rehearsal and helped get a great sound for the otherwise very rootsy, stripped set. And he brought in a keyboard player who killed it with one day to prepare! Dov sounded great and so needless to say, I am super psyched to share my music with an almost entirely new audience tomorrow! My positive mental attitude (a new one for me) is telling me that things will go great, smoothly and singing will be a breeze!

I will let you know how it all pans out!

x,
Red Out Loud
ps i realize that i said super many times in that last paragraph! Sorrrry.....

West Coast

2007-07-29T14:41:00.002-04:00

I find myself here in Los Angeles (Santa Monica at the moment, to be exact), awaiting my big show on Tuesday. The show is turning out to be a bigger one then expected. Not only has my friend Shai promoted the hell out of it to his good friends, he has promoted the hell out of it to various executives and assistants that he is friendly with at different agencies in the area. So, needless to say, I am now nervous. It is a strange experience to go out of town and play for an entirely new audience. I am used to Manhattan, my friends in Manhattan, the industry I know so well in Manhattan and the venues in Manhattan. The idea of playing for people who have never heard my music before, who are just coming out on a whim because a friend suggested they do is a very daunting thought to me. Don't get me wrong, I will have some family there and then of course some great friends of mine who live in the area, but for the most part it will be unfamiliar territory. And I am afraid people won't like it. I know it makes no sense to have negative thoughts, in fact, I know having negative thoughts often makes negative thoughts come true, so I am trying not to have them. I am trying to be excited about sharing the stage with new musicians, sharing my music with new people and having a chance to introduce myself and my music to some new people who may be able to help me take it in a new direction. I have my fingers crossed!

I decided last minute to hire a percussionist and then VERY last minute to hire a keyboard player. We have rehearsal tonight. My friend Dov, from the band Fools For April is opening up for me and then playing guitar and singing for me in my band. He seemed slightly perturbed to have me add last minute players to the band. I am not sure if its because he is playing acoustic with his partner and me on background vocals or because it means we had to add a rehearsal to our otherwise VERY laid back LA schedule....either way, sometimes you gotta do whats best for you and hope the people around you roll with it. He seems to be rolling. Last preperation act is to get him a guitar because unfortunately for both of us, upon his arrival to LA he found that his guitar had broken in a crucial spot and is being fixed, but will be ready only on MONDAY! Damn! More money out to the window.....for some reason I have no job for the first time in my life and my mentality about money has shifted from careful to money is no object. Its almost as though when I spend my money on my music its as if its going to some sort of charitable cause- so i feel no guilt!

Silly me....

And then in all of this, my voice.....I am so nercous about my voice. I just need it to hold strong tonight and then on Tuesday. I am praying that I sound good for this show. I may pop an extra steroid pill on Tuesday just to be sure. And after that I have no clue when I will be singing again. Which is such a strange feeling on so many levels. My surgery is not officially scheduled, due to insurance issues, which is a whole other entry full of material. Either way it means I have no time line for when I will recorver from the surgery and when I might sing again. Which makes this show mean so much to me on so many levels, because after this the fun is over. It will be all business from then until I can sing again. Promotin gmyself, meeting people, writing, networking and just putting things into place for when I am ready to continue on my professional journey.....

So scared! Pray for me. I am reading a book called the secret which is telling me if I simply think happy thoughts they will come true. So I am thinking happy thoughts!

x,
Red Out Loud

Depressed.

2007-07-23T19:21:00.000-04:00

I am preparing for my trip to LA and for my show on Wednesday, by preparing I mean, barely getting anything done at all. In fact right now, instead of sifting through clothing trying to pick out some semblence of an few outfits that might allow me to appear a little less New York for my two week LA stint, I am watching Vh1 debate whether Ashlee or Jessica Simpson are better then then other.

When did either one of them become worth anybody's time?

I remember seeing Jessica Simpson play her radio promotion showcase at the Bottom Line when I was 18 years old. I was about to start school at new York University full of dreams of hitting New York running. I couldnt believe I was surrounded by all of these "executives." I went with a family friend who worked in the business and I thought I was so old and mature and it is only now, at this point in my life (mid twenties) that I can see just how young a girl is and probably acts at 18,19,20. Either way, this was one of my first experiences spending any time on any side of this crazy business of music. And I thought Jessica Simpson was just fabulous and gorgeous. Again, I knew very little, remember, I was only 18. Regardless, it solidified my presence on earth. It was what I was meant to do...It is what I am meant to do, I mean on every level I should be able to surpass a woman who is as talentless and brainless and in, my opinion, heartless as Jessica Simpson. Harsh, I know. And since then I have faced lots of "no's," lots of rejection and lots of defeat. But I have learned a hell of a lot and for some reason I am absolutely not ready to give up, even though now at this point, it seems that everything stands against me. The business is hard, but when your instrument fails on you then its almost as though you have nothing left.

Needless to say, wondering if you are ever going to sing again is far different then wondering if you will ever make it as an artist and here I am left with both. So with both questions in mind I find it hard to motivate to get ready for my big west coast trip, let alone my show on wednesday here in New York, let alone to get upstairs and even go to bed.

I guess some might call this a slight depression and maybe it is, then again it may be the steroids I am souped up on to get through these next few shows....who knows. All I know is I want out. Hopefully I will have all of this worked out soon, though this would entails scheduling my surgery, which would entail working out how I am going to pay for all of this, which is a story all its own and for another time.

Right now the debate over whether Kate Bosworth or Nicole Richie have bonier rib cages is far too enthralling for me.

x
Red Out Loud

Mr. Derek James and other excitement!

2007-07-08T22:42:00.001-04:00

When I found out that I had a cyst on my vocal cord, irrepairable (is that a word) without surgery I was headed towards a GREAT month of shows. I had quit my job as a party planner/promoter/office administrator (gotta pay bills)! And decided to face music head on. I have lived in Manhattan for 8 years, 4 and a half of which devoted entirely to my music career. But I always had a job, a job, though fun, that I took quite seriously. And lucrative it was. Throwing parties for my closest and not so close friends helped me maintain an INCREDIBLY flexible schedule while playing music and having what was probably too much fun. Smooth sailing, I thought, until I realized four years down the line that though I had become quite successful here in Manhattan as an artist, playing sold out shows to audiences at Canal Room, Joe's Pub and other venues, opening for great artists I truly respected and creating some very great tracks with some of the best musicians around that I was not 100% in it. So I got rid of the paying job, I got rid of my relatively expensive Gramercy apartment and I decided to take the leap. I could not decide if NYC was worh another full year so I became officially homeless (by that I mean that I decided to move home, 10 minutes from Manhattan, to a my parents huge house with swimming pool, hot tub and west wing all to myself). Not so horrible sounding. And I have to admit, its not. I probably should have done this quite a while back....but here I am 26, at home with my parents (not half as bad as it sounds) and ready to go for it. LA for August, tour the North East with my friend Derek's band (or plan to) in the fall.

And even July was sounding exciting, I had a GREAT double bill show set up with my friends AtomicTom (www.myspace.com/atomictom) at Arlene's- the big send off show to LA. Then my great friend Derek James asked me to sing back up for him at his big summer show at The Bowery Ballroom. This is a room that I not only love to see shows in, but its a room I would DIE to play in as my own band, but even to be asked to play as a back up singer was an honor. Derek is truly talented and not in that regular great voice great songs way, he has a sound all his own that brings to mind ragtime/swing/barbeshop quartets/and decades of music ranging from the 20's to the 60's. It's broad and concise in style all at once. And its addictive! Now this is not to say that learning the back ups has gone swimmingly- its been a challenge and with my voice in rough shape its been more challenging. BUT I wanted to be a part of this show so badly that when my doctors (first and 2nd opinion) told me that I would need surgery and reccoperation time of up to 2 months I said "PLEASE you have to help me get through July. My three most exciting shows, Derek, Arlene's and LA are just around the corner."

So I have been hyped up on steriods (prednisone- thats what they give you) all month hoping to get through these shows! And I intend to! Check back soon for footage from Derek's show this weekend....

xxx
Red Out Loud

Do you have to be selfish to be an artist?

2007-07-07T09:46:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had a non artist friend of mine freely tell me that they believe that all artists, actors, musicians, singers etc. must be selfish at heart if their chosen life path is the be a performer. I have had a few non artist friends make this supposition in the past. And as the stubborn red headed/hot headed artist that I have always been I often fight my friends tooth and nail over a statement like this. There assumption has largely to do with the tabloids they read, the nightly entertainment shows they watch in suspense, the mtv reality shows that hold their interest longer then any shakespeare play might. All of this media portrayal of "stars" (actors, singers, personalities) makes non artists (or "regular people" as I often secretly refer to them) think that all an artist wants is recognition, media coverage, money, applause, attention.

And secretly, I kind of understand how they might assume that. I mean look around the amount of coverage surrounding "Paris goes to Jail" far surpasses the amount of media coverage regarding the current state in Sudan. Let me point out, Paris= NOT an artist. Paris= little rich girl gone wrong, parents who paid no attention so she needs to beg for the attention of the rest of the world. Sad. How many times have we read about LIndsay Lohan going to rehab (not how many times has she actually gone- because that is too many times to count for a recent 21 year old), but how much coverage did that get?! She is an artist, an actress, acclaimed, not by the critics that count, but at least by the general press, tabloid writer and public. Lindsay Lohan= poor girl with sicko mother who got her into this business too young. Who knows? maybe if LIndsay had been given the chance at normal life she might have been the next Hillary (probably not, I'm just making a point ;))!

So, I get it, non artists think- this is what artists want. Fame, money, rehab (maybe not rehab), jail (maybe not that either), attention and a beach house in Malibu (ok, I would definitely take the beach house- but who wouldn't).

But then let me ask you this?

What is your favortie thing to do on a saturday night? Long week at work doing something maybe more "beneficial" for the world then making music or movies.....say you are, a doctor? Fine, you want pne night off, what do you do? There are loads of options....you could sit on your couch and face the wall and think about life. To me that sounds like loads of fun. You could have a quiet night drink a glass of wine, hang with your significant other. You could take a long walk around your block, your neighborhood.....

And these are the only activities I can come up with that dont involve reaping the benefits of a talented artist. Truthfully you can't even read a book without reaping the talents of an artist. Author=artist. Book= entertainment. Forget turning on that television and watching that made for tv movie, forget heading out to the movie theater for the latest bond movie, forget going to see your favorite band play at the garden or even going to hear your favorite local jazz band play at the local bar or restaurant. Forget putting on your favorite cd to listen to your favorite singers who you can no longer see play live because they are long gone, but at least you have that record so that their art can live on. Forget it all....

Artists dont only provide you with activity a lot of artists, actors, musicians, movie makers songwriters provide you with some of your most fond lifelong memories, they provide you with moments of your life you won't forget, but that you can fortunately return to at least in memory because that movie or song will always be available to listen to or watch.

How many people remember the song that was playing when they had their first dance with a boy or girl. You are 12 years old (maybe older or younger) you are at some frightening school dance, bar or bat mitzvah, sweet 16, birthday party, whatever...and a slow song comes on. You look down at yourself, wonder if you will stand alone on the side of the dance floor on your own through the song, while other (girls in my case) get picked up one by one to dance to cyndi Lauper's "time after Time" for example. Then, without realizing someone grabs your hand leads you out and there youare, dancing, your first "slow dance," with pre teen 'x"'s arms around your waste your arms just touching his shoulders, its awkward, but its memorable and not just because its your first of many encounters like this one, but because there was a song that spurred the action. And you don't forget it and secretly you thank it, the song, cyndi, the stereo/DJ/band playing the song. There you have it. A memory. All thanks to some, um, selfish artist.

My father and mother appreciate music to such a high degree that its a part of their every day life. There s never a moment that music is not playing in our home, that my father isnt asking me, "deena, who do you think is singing that song?" or worse sometimes (but not his fault) "Deena, why dont you sing jazz standards?" Though the question irks me, I know he is well intentioned and that he just loves that style of music, it makes him think of his past, his family, his mother who adores that style of music. I point out then that the bands he loves to play on our long family car rides also include some major rock stars of his time, so not to discount the rock and roll of it all. He smiles, he knows i'm right ;). My father is a doctor, my mother is a therapist, but music is part of their lives, they couldn;t live without it, they may not be married without it! My dad brought over the Hall and Oats record with the song "Sarah Smiles" to propose to my mother (Sarah), when he was 20 years old. Cheesey maybe, but cute, and that is a memory etched in their minds forever.

But let me say this. Those of you that assume all artists are selfish may be right in some way. Yes the applause feels good, the praise feels great and I imagine, though im not there in my career yet, that selling your art (acting/singing/songs) must feel amazing. Buying a house in Malibu or the hamptons or bermuda or the west village or whatever expensive areae suts your taste must feel incredible, rewarding beyond belief.

None of that is why you are right about our inclination towards selfishness. It's true, if you want to be an artist, a successful artist you have to selfish. You have to pretty much devote your whole life to your craft, your passion, your dream. That means extensive training, hours of rehearsals, constant socializing within networks that might lead you towards someone who can help you make that big break. And that is selfish, a person gives a lot for that, family time, friend time, very often it means even giving up something as simple, but necessary as sleep. And, no, its not to save someone's life, but it is in order to be successful, get ahead and maybe, just maybe, get the opportunity to get paid to do what you feel you are best at. You send countless invites to people, friends, family inviting them to performances, shows, movie screenings, to buy your cd on itunes, then skip a night out for their birthday or engagement party or baby's naming because you have a show out of town, you just cant miss. It's selfish, for sure, it is. I am the first to admit it. But its all for the love of the art, its all for the dream and an artist may lose friends and worse family along the way but they are going for it, no matter what.

Then, of course, there is your instrument. Guess what, its not easy to sing, to act, to look right "for the part." And to manage all of that also requires a few selfish bones. Had I been a little more selfish (and believe me I am the first to admit I am selfish in many ways) I may not be sitting here in New Jersey on voice rest instead of visiting my Uncle for his 60th birthday up at his home in Lake George. Some artists call it sacrifices, but I suppose its selfishness as well. I mean it is, the pursuit of my career requires keeping my body and my vocal cords in good shape so that maybe one day I will be successful. I am pretty sure that other careers require sacrifices/selfish acts such as skipping out on family/friend affairs in order to gain a step towards success. In fact I am positive.

This long, wordy (maybe selfish) little entry is not some call for pity to us lonely artists around the world sacrificing every day for our art. And I am not denying the perks of fame and success. BUT I will say that if any of you feel so inclined to tell a dreamy artist friend of yours that all artists, actors, singers, musicians etc. are all selfish, think about what you are saying and exactly what you mean by that. Go listen to your favorite song, watch your favorite movie, think about the people involved who aren't highlighted weekly in your favorite tabloid (which by the way- without tabloids many of you would be bored to tears). Not every artist wants or gains that ttention. But yes, we are selfish, we kind of have to be, and hopefully you benefit from it!

I talk too much :) But can you blame me? In about a month I will be silent for a few weeks because I am going to try to get a doctor to put my vocal cords back together for me. Wait and see how long my blogs will be then!

Love to you all, artists and non artists alike! Hope whatever you want to do with your life is what you end up doing, no matter what it takes to get there! But dont forget people along the way because the people you hit on your way up you CRASH into on your way down. And that is a whole other entry for another time!

Back to my "voice rest!"

xRed Out Loud

I live at home!

2007-06-29T22:42:00.001-04:00

Picture this:

Friday night, 10:45 pm, 26 year old girl, perched on parents bedroom lounge chair gearing up for a night of "Studio 60" catch up, waiting for my mother to finish up with her nightly routine in order to get started.

It's a real party here in Teaneck, New Jersey!

After high school I decided to study at Tisch School of the Arts at New York University. I did so because a)I got in early b)it was one of the schools my parents would allow me to attend to study drama and music because it was also a "real" school c)it was the number 1 school in the field of undergraduate acting training and d) (secretly) it was very close to home. Additional perk was of course that it was in downtown Manhattan, a city I dreamed of inhabiting for my entire life. Now I am not some small town girl, I grew up in Teaneck, albeit a suburb, it was still only miles from Manhattan. My start at NYU at 18 years old was not, as it was for many of my friends, my 1st or 2nd trip to Manhattan. In fact, I don't actually remember my first visit to Manhattan, the first sighting of the bright lights, the first subway ride I took, the first sight of the skyline, it was just always our city. My father works in Manhattan, any time there was something fun to do as a family (museums, shows, dinner) it happened in Manhattan. This is not to say that I didn't experience the same excitement as, say, the fresh faced, bright eyed student from Omaha, Nebraska felt upon finding out that I would get to pack my bags, drive accross the GWB for the umpteenth time and park my self and all of my belongings in the great city of Manhattan, the big apple, the city of bright lights, the city that never sleeps!

I was ready! Though only 15 minutes from home I felt entirely new, independent, larger then life, almost eratic. There was no focusing for me, everything was at my fingertips. New people, all kinds, I made my first friends of many different types. Having grown up in a religious Jewish community and going to religious Jewish schools I was generally surrounded by Jewish people. I had even opted to dorm at NYU with my friend from highschool, so branching out was exciting. And I did.

I graduated from College 4 years ago, and through college I thought I had experienced it all, I thought there was not possibly more to the city that I had not already uncovered, people, places, shows, parties and so on.

I had not even made my first trip to Brooklyn yet ;) What did I know.....

Over the next 4 years New York City opened up worlds to me I had no idea even existed. I worked at a record label, PR firm, nightclubs, hob nobbed with celebrities (I did just use that phrase didn't I), hung with the starving-est of artist. Dated the wrong people, dated the right people and did wrong by them. Experience after experience. And I loved it. There was nothing to stop me in Manhattan. It was my town.

In all of that my favorite part of life was my music. I think many people reading this expect this blog to be all about the music I write, sing, play, listen to, new tracks, new tunes, new shows. My influences, my artistic journey, my life as an artist. Well, this is it. Much of life as an artist, few will lead on, has nothing to do with the creation of your art or music in my case. It is experience. You need to have it in order to build material, in order to write. The other side of being an artist, aside from creating art, is networking, being out, meeting a zillion people, talking your ass off and working your shit like never before. I'm a natural when it comes to that. Talking to people is my game, its why I did well in nightlife, as a party promoter, its why PR came easy to me and its hopefully why I will find success as an artist.

And all of this is what has taken up pretty much the last half of my 8 year stint in the big city. I attempted to conquer its small world. And it was a blast.

In the meantime of all of this I suffered from a major voice disorder, nodules, polyps, swollen cords and I fought through it all. Sleep meant little to me, drinking with friends at parties meant a lot, staying out late at rock shows meant more and writing and singing my music to whomever would listen mean the MOST.

So I did it all and I did myself in. People would often look at me and say, how do you do this? It will catch up to you, you are burning your candle at all ends, yada yada.

Whoever said that to me, this part of my blog is an ode to you.

How right you were.

Because (pan left back to current scene) I am sitting here typing this blog, sitting home on a friday night (in my parents house, where I now LIVE), taking it easy, hoping to retrieve some semblance of myself in order to keep on playing and singing my music.

After 8 years experiencing life in Manhattan, I have opted to give up my Gramercy apartment, give up the opportunity to have a fabulous job in the fabulous nightlife/events industry and continue on my pursuit of my dream to play my music, to be a successful musician and make it my life.

I made this brave decision before I found out I had done myself so far in that a lump had manifested itself on my vocal cord a trial which stood as a major road block in all of my majorly brave plans.

So still I sit, here at home, only now I wonder what the hell will happen to me. My plan of touring the west coast in August and the east coast (with my lovely friend Derek James) has to be put on somewhat of a hold as I figure out when and how I will afford this major surgery I apparently need.

Still I will spend my 2 weeks in LA, checking out that lifestyle, playing a great show with my friends Fools For April on the bill. But then I will return home, to New Jersey! Not Manhattan! Reasess my life, fix my voice, get better and get out on that North East tour by MAYBE November. This is if everything goes well.

If not.

It looks like watching Studio 60 reruns from my parents bedroom arm chair will be my life.

Y'all better pray for me!

I promise the next blog will be music related ;) I actually have many fun things to let you all know about.

xRed Out Loud

TO DREADED DOC!

2007-06-27T10:09:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I got my second opinion....the scary second opinion!

I went back to my original doctor, the one who told me I had damaged my voice the first time around. The reason I went to see him- Dr. Peak Woo- is because he is one of the most renowned surgeons for this type of disorder AND the speech Pathologist that works with him and with his patients is Dr. Linda Carroll, who for all intents and purposes saved my life four years ago when she taught me how to sing around and work through the nodules I had developed on my chords.

When I found out about this new injury I thought it would be best to see the doctor with the best speech pathologist on staff and so Dr. Woo was an obvious choice!

Getting to the doctor was no easy feat on the subway in 95 degree weather but I had my friend Nicole with me to videotape the entire thing, so at least it was entertaining. Nicole- FYI- is probably one of my most entertaining friends who is also immensely talented and has offered her hand in helping me not only blog about this experience but video tape and edit it into a documentary as well.

(THANKS NICOLE)!

Anyway after about an hour of waiting to see Dr. Woo and an influx of patients with seemingly worse problems then my own, Nicole and I finally made our way into the examination room.

The examination room consists of an examination chair, sat upright, a couple of computer and tv monitors and a scope. There must be a full length term for this "scope," but I will just stick with the abbreviated version. "scope." A long, narrow, metal tube like contraption that they essentially stick down your throat to magnify your vocal cords in order to check out what is wrong with them.

Dr. Woo was a tiny bit hesitant about being videotaped for the purpose of the blog and the piece nicole and I are working on, but we warmed him up and got some good footage, especially of the actual scope, which you guys will see up here soon.

It's strange to go and have your insides looked at. Part of your insides that are so important to you and its strange to think the tiniest of muscle produces sound out of a persons body. But thats how it works. These tiny little vibrating mucousy looking muscles in a v shape form (truthfully one might confuse the photo with another type of V shaped exam), make sound. All different kinds of sound...people use the sound for singing, words, laughing, crying and any kind of emoting at all. two little mucousy muscles. You dont think when you speak that they can be damaged easily and changed forever. I doubt the regular person thinks about it. I didn't start thinking about that until I was 21 and now I will continue to think about it, probably, for the rest of my life.

So the doctor told me what I expected to hear, "the cyst is smaller, but its there, you will likely need surgery." BUT he did say I could have some more DRUGGSSSS to get through the next month of shows that I have, that LA is still in my future! There is a therapist there that I can work with while Im out there doing my show and working. BUT when I come home in mid August I will be home bound, surgery bound and silence bound. No singing again until likely October. (at the earliest).

I have to tell you, the first thing I thought was...."what should my last word be right before I go down for this very frightening surgery?"

Then I thought, "will I sing again?"

We shall see.....positive attitude and Dr. Woo should do the trick.

drugs

2007-06-25T13:06:00.001-04:00

The doctor found the cyst on my vocal fold the day before I was set to sing the national anthems at an event I helped plan and three days before I was set to sing a show at my favorite downtown venue- The Rockwood Music Hall.

I told him there was no way I could not sing these shows. He told me that there actually WAS no way I was singing the shows unless he put me on a steroid pack. You guys hear steroids and you think heavy duty working out, big muscles, facial hair, heated temper etc. Supposedly these steroids are just to reduce swelling of any kind (hence my vocal cord with its new and large growth)!

Let me tell you. they work! They worked so well for me on Thursday night that I not only sounded like my recent self I actually sounded like my ORIGINAL self! You know the self before I even had my first vocal injury. Just round gorgeous notes, easy to sing and lovely.

My mood was a different story. They tell you to be wary, steroids can effect your mood, they can make you nervous, emotional, depressed, hyper. I mean, I feel most of those things on a daily basis as it is, but woa. Were they right. Just as I was ready to call steroids my new best friend, fiend for them, seek out any means to have them by my side at all times I started to feel this small inclination towards ripping my hairs out, one at a time, my heart was beating fast, and I kept having to leave the room full of people to make sure I was still alive in general. The next evening after a long day I came home to my apartment, which I only have for the next 6 days :( sat on my couch and just cried. No good reason, just melted down.

woa.

maybe steroids aren't the best idea. Do I give up sanity in order to have a pretty voice for the next month, just to get through some shows that are extremely important to me?! The answer for me seems obvious.....

Watch out for some crazy, babbling red head walking the streets of New York!

And come out to my shows, because at least they will sound good!

x,
Red Out Loud

The Past

2007-06-24T21:49:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Red Out Loud.

I'm a red head. I'm loud in all areas, I talk too much, I write honest songs about personal situations (sometimes too honest) and I sing, LOUD, for the most part.

So I thought calling this Blog- "Red Out Loud" made perfect sense.

I actually started this blog over three months ago. I thought it would be a hoot to just chat to myself and whoever else stumbled upon this blog all about my life's trials and tribulations! Such trials and tribulations for the most part (as most blogs do) centered around boys, dating, parties and all sorts of other boring things.

I deleted it today.

Don't worry it is saved somewhere safe, so that if and when my life goes back to being that trivial (I also like to think of it as fun) I can repost them on a new and improved blog.

But now I want to blog about something else.

I am a singer. I write songs too, but I was born a singer. Most people who are singers talk about how they were singing from the day they were born. I don't remember if I sang when I was bron, I dont think people can actually remember that far back to tell you the truth, so I will skip that silly overused line and try to actually remember when I became aware of my voice.

I think that I always talked a lot and I for certain know I was quite opinionated, even before the words formed. I am also sure that mom and dad played loads of music for me as a baby. I also come from a family of entertainers on my father's side, my grandmother a dancer, her sister a singer, their brother a trumpet player. Music was there from the start. My earliest memories of singing though, I mean really singing and thinking "wow, I think I like this" probably go back to kindergarden or maybe the first grade. I had my first best friend around then, Rebecca. She would come over almost every day and we would parade around my parents living room listening to the record, yes it was actually a vinyl record, of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera."

Now, at this point in my life, and it is 20 years later, I am a rock singer, with influences that range from Carole King, Janis Joplin and Bonnie Raitt as a singer to Crosby Stills Nash and Young, Jackson Browne even James Taylor as a songwriter.

But then, that was it for me. BROADWAY MUSICALS! And in fact it stayed that way for about 15 years after that. My family moved to East Brunswick from Teaneck and my "living room musical" switched from the overplayed "Phantom of the Opera" to "The Secret Garden." Oh how I loved to sing the maid's songs. I never remember enjoying singing the ingenue roles I always remember loving the supporting characters, the belters, the big, brave bold songs. And I think it was with this musical that I realized I was not only singing, but I was singing well. Actually amazingly well for a girl of about 9 years old. My mother would cook away in the kitchen and I would sing, like no one was listening. Of course, I took breaks from my broadway song collection to sing more contemporary hits of the day, for example, I think Debbie Gibson's "Lost in Your Eyes" stood tall on that list!

My musical tastes did broaden eventually. Mostly thanks to the ever present family roadtrip to upstate New York to visit the grandparents, to ski lodges for family vacations, to the jersey shore! My father would play all sorts of music from his younger life- Carole King, Crosby Stills and Nash, The Eagles, James Taylor, The Beatles, Cat Stevens, Dan Folgerberg. Then one day he played a record he thought I might enjoy, told me, this woman could sing better then anyone else. Fact. Of course, my father only speaks in facts.

Barbra Streisand came to being in my world. I know it sounds strange and to some maybe embarassing to list Babs as one of my earliest music memories. But I won't lie (this is a blog after all), Barbra defined song to me. She sang, she hit notes I had never heard before and I just HAD to be able to sing like that. So I sang along, I imitated and I think that was the beginning of my technique. I embodied her, i memorized her songs, i figured out her sound, her voice placement, her level of passion and I emulated it.

Then there was the vocal stylings of Bette, Mariah, Ella even Celine that took over my heart. I still fancied myself a good broadway score to sing along to, but once I found out about these vocalists the challenge was on. I would sing like these people if it was the last thing I'd do. And I did. And I'm not tooting my horn, I could sound like any of the above listed singers. And for me the feeling of singing to such great heights isn't an explainable one. It felt right, it was who I was and it became what I wanted to be.

I did musicals, I sang at family get togethers, I got solos in the school choir, I took voice lessons, sang karaoke etc. and I was noticed for it all. Then at the age of 15 I think the most significant musical moment of my teenage years came about. My father bought me a stereo that had the capability of turning regular cd's into karaoke. The best part of this was that the stereo came with a microphone. It plugged right into the stereo and fit right into my hand. Immediately I began playing with this toy, spending hours at a time, night after night singing along to all my favorites. These were my most private musical moments. For many singing mostly involves performance, an audience, applause. And believe me, there is nothing like it. But this had none of that. This was just me, a microphone, artists who, at least back then, I loved deeply and my voice. And I just sang. I kept casettes (yes tapes) right by the stereo and recorded everything. It was my medicine, my therapy, my love.

I do hold dear to my heart the musicals I performed in highschool with my acting "troupe" and I do hold my experience at The Tisch School of the Arts close to my heart. Gaining admittance to the best musical theater program in the country was no small feat and I learned a great deal about theater, acting, music and life. I made wonderful friends and sang my heart out. But it doesnt stick out to me as the crux of my musical journey.

My voice at its best and most fulfilling (at least through childhood and my teen years) lies in that poor quality microphone, my shelves of Cd's, that karaoke stereo and the many hours I spent all alone with all of that, just singing. I remember after hours of singing all by myself I would wash up for bed, get under my covers and literally dream about how on earth I could make singing my life. It just had to be.

So no, my memory does not go back to the day I was born and the day I was born was certainly not the first moment I realized where my heart lay. I dont even think it was with The Phantom of the Opera or with The Secret Garden, though those musical are my first memory of attaching myself to music. It was the female vocalists I fell for and the karaoke Stereo that taught me how to sing just like them.

This is how music began for me. This was before it even occured to me that beyond song there was writing, I could write songs and then sing them, but that realization came later for me and only after I realized that the voice I had was not a permanent fixture, that it was fleeting and that it could be damaged, changed and lost forever. And that happened. When I was 21.

I woke up on the day of my college graduation party, ready to take over the world. I had my story all ready to tell to those guests asking me the dreaded question, what's next for you? I had a successful career at Tisch, though I was not cast in the roles I necessarily sought out at school, I had been a part of the exclusive industry night heald for seniors and I had scored myself an agent for theater and an agent for commercials. I was set. I was ready to audition, to work and to be what I assumed I always wanted to be. I had even found my place as a budding recording artist, having made demo after demo of original material with a producer I had found, I was on my way to fulfilling dreams of recording and singing like the greats I had always admired.

I got up, I got dressed for my party I went downstairs opened my mouth to speak and instead of my crystal clear speaking voice peaking through, a hard noticeable rough sound emerged, unexplainably. I assumed that I had laryngitis, not common for me, but I had been spending a lot of time out with friends celebrating our great graduation victory and assumed that it would be a temporary loss. 2 weeks later, it wasn't, 3 weeks later my first voice specialist put a tube down my throat and told me I had bumps on my vocal cords that would probably not go away without extensive therapy.

I had nodules. I would have to be quiet for weeks, I would not be able to go on my auditions and I would have to wait. WAIT. I am not a patient person, so waiting is a word I dont really like. I went into extensive therapy. Tried one therapist, Dr. Anat Keidar. Working with her was probably the worst thing I could have done towards my rehabilitation. Finding out that what had once, in my eyes, been an infallible instrument, was now damaged was enough to make wonder what I had done to deserve this, but she confirmed that. Not a word of encouragement not a word of reassurance. And so I stopped seeing her and for the most part ignored my problem. I stopped going on auditions, the style in my voice was long gone and in my small mind, probably gone for good.

But my non defeatist attitude told me, fuck it, if you cant sing like you used to, find another way. I decided....

I would write songs. So I did. And I found great writers to write with. And I wrote songs I could sing with this new strange voice of mine. I wrote with The Spin Doctors and other notables. I took a job in the music business working for Susan Blond Inc, started attending all of the right parties, continued to do damage to my voice, but continued to further my career as an artist all the same.

I started to write and found out that there had been all of these other past influences I had hardly recognized until that point. There was, as I mentioned earlier, CSNY, James Taylor, Carole King etc. whose writing I found myself emulating. I was thrilled. I had turned a curse into a blessing and quickly began to create a name for myself in the NYC music scene.

Since then my life has been my own music, my heart moved from the great singers I used to love, to great writers, to great blues singers, to unknown artists, to creating a community of songwriters right here in my own city. Theater was gone, technique for the most part, gone. Music was new for me all over again. And I ran with it. I played show after show, worked with one great person after the other, spent late nights out living a lifestyle every good rockstar would want to live. I worked in nightlife, i made my money, I made connections, I pushed forward and I was happy.

Recently I decided I needed to push further, my life needed to be my music, I had hit a major roadblock, gotten past it, I just turned 26 there was no more waiting. I quit my job, gave up my apartment, got ready to move home and go friendhop in LA, play as many shows as possible, I was going to do this, there was no reason my success had not reached a further point. I was ready to move full steam ahead.

Then I found out last week I had not escaped my voice problems, they were back and worse. My once infallible instrment was further damaged (after having healed significantly) a cyst had formed on vocal fold, and this time it was irreversible without surgery.

Here I am writing to you, a one way ticket to LA in my hand, my first LA show booked, managers, producers, lawyers all ready to work with me on my big push. And Im about to go silent for three months.

This is all I'll have to keep my thoughts on the outside of my brain if I can't speak them. So I hope you'll read, now that you know me, where I come from and what I've been through.

You know my past, now I head into my future with yet another curve ball. I had hoped to describe my musical journey to you, the shows I would play, the songs I would write, the success I would find, the friends I would meet along the way, life lived as ONLY an artist, FINALLY!

Nope, not yet! I have another stumbling block to climb over. And its going to be the hardest yet. There will be weeks of silence, months of rehab but I am not giving up and thankfull I will have you to listen to me! (or at least read me).

Oh- I promise this will be the longest entry of the blog....just thought I would update you on the last 26 yearsin the life of deena godman (t least musically) and to tell you the truth I have only brushed the surface....

Be back around soon! Hope to get some photos and video footage up here soon, once I figure out how that is done!

Good night to you all.....

xRed Out Loud