Bentley's Letter: A Dog's "Thank You"

Hi All!  Happy Holidays!  Usually I write these blogs myself, but Bentley's letter was so cute (he asked me to check it for spelling mistakes),  I just wanted to share...  Bentley is the dog that ran out into the road and stopped directly in front of our car while we were en route to the finale of "American Idol" earlier this year.  We ultimately adopted him from the shelter in South L.A.
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Dear All the Nice People at the South L.A. Animal Shelter,

Hi.  My name is Bentley, but you wouldn’t know me by that name.  I myself didn’t even know it was my name until recently.  They call me other names too you see, and so it was a little confusing at first.  Even now I sometimes answer to “good boy,” “Bent,” “hi cutie,” and “puppy.”  I know now though, that the name is Bentley.  She has a mirror in the bedroom and I saw it printed on my nametag.   Anyway, you would have known me as “Lab/Shar Pei mix” followed by a bunch of numbers that I do not remember.

I wanted to drop you a line to let you know how things are going.  You all seemed so excited when they came and visited me.  I’ll never forget when you moved me to another room and rang a bell yelling, “Adoption!”  I didn’t really understand what it meant at the time.  It was scary at first.  After I went to that new room I traveled to a scary place that smelled like medicine and I got very tired.  I woke up groggy and wasn’t sure what was happening for a while, but eventually things settled down.  I thought I’d better write you before I forget.

I do forget things.  For example, I don’t remember a lot of my life before they came to get me.  I remember bits and pieces but… well, I’ll save all that for another time.  I mostly remember the important things, things like chicken and some of my Ninja moves, but that’s another story.  Maybe it’s not so much that I forget as much as it is that I just don’t think of those times very often.

What I really want to do is thank you.  I know you took good care of me and that you work hard taking care of a lot of us (I watch the “Animal Planet” channel when they leave me alone and I’ve learned a lot) and well, I thought you would appreciate knowing where I am now.  First of all, let me just clarify that they don’t leave that channel on when they leave.  They actually don’t often leave me alone, but when they do they like to let me watch Nickelodeon.  I’m sure they think the animal station is too depressing, but I have learned how to use the remote.  Anyway, they are very nice people and say they love me.  I believe them.  I can tell by the way they take care of me, try to teach me and by the way they pet me.  The girl’s name is Tan (pronounced TAHN and short for Tanya apparently) and the guy’s name is Russ (short for Russ Grammie).

When I first went with them, I didn’t feel very well.  I was very tired and didn’t feel much like myself.  We were in a place called a hotel for a number of days until I was well enough to fly.  When I first arrived in New York though, I still didn’t feel very well.  They took me to a place called “the vet” and it turned out I had an infection and another infection too.  I had surgery and took medicine for my cough.  I hated wearing that cone but when it finally came off I was very excited.  They took me to another house (it turns out that they have three houses – well, one is a place called “mom’s”) and I met my sister Sadie.  She’s a black and white Aussie and we get along great!  She loves to play and knows EVERYTHING!  I generally listen to her and do what she says.  I figure that she knows what’s best.  The only time I really don’t listen to her at all is if I see a squirrel or if I am running toward my food bowl.  I’m just too distracted to listen to ANYONE then.  Although the Tan and Russ are trying to get me to listen to them NO MATTER WHAT.

They brought me to a school and I met a lady named Dottie.  She is in charge of my lessons but Tan and Russ are the ones who hold my leash.  They all think I get overly excited when I see squirrels and other dogs so they have me taking private lessons before they let me participate in a “class.”  I don’t really know what that is, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon.  I like other dogs, I just can hardly wait to get over to them and say “hi.”  Sometimes they just don’t get it.  I mean, there is a certain sense of urgency in greeting other dogs – and I have to sniff them and pee on something right away.  I have been slowing down though – and they seem to like that so I guess I’ll keep doing it.

I’ve learned a lot of words in their language too.  I know how to “sit” and how to “down.”  I also know “wait,” “shake,” “stay” and “go for a walk outside.”  When it’s time for “do you want some food” I run into “your crate” and sometimes I get a “bone” or a “toy.”  I know how to “go get it,” but squirrels are sometimes more interesting than finding the “ball.”  I don’t mind confessing that sometimes I forget the words and cheat.  If that happens I can either try guessing or just look at Sadie and copy her.  Like I said, she knows everything.

It’s starting to get cold here in New York, so Tan bought me a coat.  I like it.  It’s warm.  OH, and GUESS WHAT!  It snows here.  White stuff comes down from the sky and rests on the ground.  You can eat it AND run in it.  It’s amazing all the different things there are.  I really like the deer too, but they won’t let me get too close to them. 

                          

They are nice people.  You would like them.  They are something called “musicians.”  They work on shows, play music, and go to the studio.  I’ve been there.  It’s ok.  I like the lake house better and the woods, but I meet nice people everywhere and the guys in the studio give me plenty of “treats.”  I have “Graham-parents.”  Those are Russ’s mom and dad.  Tan’s mom is just called “Mom.”  She lives with a Joe and an Angela too when she’s home from a place called college.  Sometimes we stay at her house.  That’s always fun because there’s another dog there named Lexi.  She’s an Aussie like Sadie but much bigger and somewhat older.  She doesn’t like to play much but still gets excited sometimes.  OH!  I forgot to tell you that my Graham-parents have a BIRD!  Have you ever heard of such a thing!?  It lives in a cage right in the house!  I don’t really understand why I can’t chase it, but fine.

Anyway, things are going well for me.  They let me nap on the couch even though I have my own bed and a crate.  I curl up with Sadie sometimes and that’s nice.  I guess it doesn’t really matter if I remember everything about my old life anyway.  Like I said, I do remember the important things and I am quite happy with the way things are now.

Thanks for making sure I went to go live with nice people.  I was down on my luck a little when you last saw me.  Things are definitely looking up now.  Tan always smiles when I wag my tail so I’ve been doing it more and more.

Thanks again – for everything.

Sincerely,

Bentley Graham


http://www.laanimalservices.com

http://www.humanesociety.org/
http://www.aspca.org/

Dear Santa... About the Cookies...

Dear Santa,

I am very grateful for all the gifts… and for all the people who give them… but…

Could you please spread the word that I DO NOT WANT anything with an abundance of calories this year?  The cookies, brownies, ice cream, pies, chocolates and the like… the problem is that I LOVE them.  I eat them.  I eat them all.  I absolutely cannot have them in the house without gobbling them up.  I have accepted that.  That is why I do not buy them anymore.  Somehow they find their way into the house anyway.

Why?  Why do people insist on trying to make me jiggle?  Is it a plot against me?  Are their joyous smiles when they give me the offending sweets, disguised glee at my impending untimely demise?  Do they KNOW how eating these things could RUIN my LIFE?  Follow me here for a minute…

First, my jeans get a little tight, but it’s nothing I can’t blame on the dryer.  I just rearrange my jeans drawer so that the tight ones are in the back.  Slowly however, I find that I must buy new ones when NONE of them seem to fit.  I think, “Is the clothes dryer really getting that hot?” as I mope off to the mall wondering how I’ll pay for a new dryer on top of all the new pants I will have to buy and curse the maker of dryers thinking that it is a very cruel trick getting the dryer to run so hot after only a few years (and just after the warranty runs out) that it shrinks your pants so that you will have to purchase a new appliance.

THEN once I get to the mall, I discover that there is ANOTHER conspiracy going on with the clothing designers!  They have changed the sizes of things.  Entire STORES are involved too.  The shops that used to be my favorites are the biggest offenders.  They only carry pencil thin jeans that supposedly are my size AND they are also making tops that have absolutely no allowance for any kind of a chest!  I have to hunt for a new favorite store.  What is happening in the world!?  Now I have to scour through racks trying to find something that fits and maybe isn’t too “old lady” looking.  It takes longer and longer to find something cool and even if I do, I can’t really be sure. 

I have to check a magazine or something…  The only ones with cool things with ANY degree of sophistication WHATSOEVER have garments that I love, but they cost THOUSANDS of dollars!  Fine.  I give up.  I go home and catch an episode of “What Not to Wear” and learn that I need five thousand dollars to buy a new wardrobe and that I can NEVER be on that show lest they throw away my entire closet and inform me brutally that I am “frumpy.”  Sadly, I open up the box of Girl Scout cookies in the freezer and eat a few, vowing to wake up early the next day and do a workout.

I don’t know HOW it is possible to waste an ENTIRE day procrastinating because I do NOT want to do a workout.  I mean, what is my problem anyway?  Are twitter trends and what my Facebook friends are finding on YouTube really that important?  (Hang on a sec, I have to go pour the hot water over the delicious gourmet hot chocolate which is the ONLY thing making me feel better about this.)  OK I’m back.

I haven’t showered yet because it is a waste of time to shower right before a workout – and I’m still going to do one today.  Wait a minute… is that clock right!?  I’d better shower because I have to get to the grocery store before it closes.  I guess I’ll do a workout out tomorrow.  I’ll buy fat free hot chocolate.

After trying a variety of low fat and sugar-free items, I decide that they taste terrible and that THAT was a complete waste of money.  Haven’t I spent enough on new pants and household appliances?  I vow to never do that again as I sit at home hungry because the only thing in the fridge tastes like cardboard.  I call the diner for some decent food.  The onion rings are delicious.

This cycle goes on and on until the doctor says that I had better start watching what I eat and I read online someone’s post about how they can eat all the cookies they want because it is not their JOB to be in shape.  It is only the job of public figures in the entertainment and music industry to be physically outstanding.  Oh crap.  I have to either fight this machine or just call it quits forever.

After giving it some thought, I realize that THIS is the reason why I am not a millionaire yet! – too many cookies and this dang conspiracy on the part of clothing designers, clothing stores and the makers of dryers.  Wait… a…minute…

Aren’t more and more entertainers and music industry icons becoming clothing designers???  (I think I am on to something)  They are trying to eliminate the competition!!!  This is probably the reason they are changing the sizes!  They are purposely trying to depress us independent artists!  They are probably in cahoots with the other companies too – and what about the glass ceiling?  Aren’t most of these companies run by men?  Are their sizes changing too?  I haven’t heard any similar complaints from Russ.  OMG!  It’s a front, perpetrated by “tha man,” to keep a sista ROUND!  I will start a movement – an uprising.  We will occupy… occupy what? – our plus-sized old lady pants with the elastic waistband?  No.

No.  I will NOT succumb to this madness.  It will start with the elimination of calorie-filled gifts and assurances that I “can afford” to eat that delectable cake with the melt-in-your-mouth caramel frosting.  I will resist.  I will throw away those boxes of cookies and tins of tasty treats with perfectly wrapped bows on top.  I will stop calling them “treats.”  They are now… um… “doo doos.”  I will say “thank doo” as I look into the smiling face of those who maybe aren’t out to get me so much as victims themselves of the biggest conspiracy in the history of the entertainment industry.  I know better now.  I will NOT feel guilty for wasting perfectly good calories as I pitch those pretty boxes and sprinkles into the dumpster.

Thanks for the talk Santa.

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P.S.

My mom has informed me that the preceding blog may be offensive to little old ladies.  Please allow me to assure you all that I do not intend these comments to offend anyone.  I love little old ladies.  I plan on being one someday.  I may be one right now – and that would be fine.  “Sophia” on “The Golden Girls” was always my favorite and I oftentimes strive to be just like her.  What would she say?  Probably that I’m not one yet and so, “eh, don’t worry about it… I’d be more worried about that outfit you have on if I were you.”

“It's too tight, it's too short and shows too much cleavage for a woman your age.” – from “Memorable Quotes for The Golden Girls” 
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088526/quotes

J xoxo

Little Shows: Big Impressions

People like to ask about gigs, especially ones with famous people or high-profile gigs.  “What was that like?” often gets asked of shows involving the President or television.  The answer is usually along the lines of how while that particular gig was a lot of fun and it was an honor to be a part of it, it was also very work intensive and usually in those types of situations one isn’t really afforded the opportunity to be “star-struck.”  You might have fifty songs to learn and you are very much focused on playing or singing your parts correctly and not so much on the fact that Stevie Wonder is standing in front you.  I mean, if Stevie Wonder is standing in front of you – you’d better be singing his song correctly right?  You might feel the same way if your boss’s boss’s boss, or the president of your company, was going to be evaluating you at work to see if you were working effectively, and your performance might mean a very big promotion for you.  It wouldn’t be anything at all like running into J-Lo or Prince at the supermarket.  (Did I just use J-Lo and Prince in the same sentence?)

That being said, there may be some moments when you can step back and appreciate the significance of the job at hand.  Maybe it’s a pause at rehearsal on stage underneath the Presidential emblem – or when you first set foot on the lighted American Idol set.  You may look around for a moment, taking it all in, and think “wow.”  Then it’s back to work, “pencils ready” or “eyes on your own paper” or something like that.

More often though, those special and most meaningful moments take place when people don’t often expect.  “Regular” or smaller shows could have just as much, if not more, of an impact.  Anything could happen at any point in time.  Suddenly, I am reminded of that song, “What If God Were One of Us.”  (Which Cheryl Pepsii Riley sings the CRAP out of BTW – but I digress.)  In it, the singer asks the question and probes the idea that God himself might be a stranger sitting next to us on the bus.  What if the single most significant thing we do in our whole life is to comfort a crying child who might be lost, or help an elderly woman across the street?  Or actually dial the number and become a sponsor when that “Feed the Children” infomercial comes on?

Last week, Russell and I played at a holiday party and I was blown away by a story I heard there.  It was for TSO (Transplant Support Organization) and it was just Russell and me with an amp and a keyboard (plus a guest guitarist and accordionist for a few songs).  The crowd consisted of about 90 people who had in some way been affected by organ donation.  Some were organ recipients and their family members.  Some were living donors.  Some were health care professionals and some had lost a loved one who had become an organ donor.  All were celebrating life and were joined by the common purpose of promoting donation awareness.  There were even a few politicians in attendance.  The organization’s president conveyed a story about one family’s experience.

In the story, two parents had been regularly bringing their daughter (we’ll call her Katie) to the hospital for kidney dialysis.  Often times, they would drop her off then go to the diner across the street for some lunch during their wait.  Eventually, they came to know the waitress and staff there at that little diner.  One day their waitress asked why it was that they came in so regularly.  After explaining that their daughter was at the hospital for dialysis and that only death or a kidney transplant would make her need for that treatment change – the waitress immediately said that she would be happy to give their daughter one of her kidneys!!!  After being tested and discovering that she was in fact a match, that is EXACTLY what she did!  Katie now sat at a table before us at the holiday party, nodding at the truth of how she received her new kidney.  It was unbelievable.  The speaker went on to say that the waitress had been here in the U.S. because her husband had to travel here for work.  She had never really wanted to leave her home in South America and had sometimes wondered what she was doing here at all.  After donating one of her kidneys to Katie, she felt her sense of purpose become clear.  She was here in the U.S. just so that she would meet them and help save Katie’s life.  She moved back to South America shortly thereafter, satisfied that she had accomplished her previously unknown task.

Take a deep breath in… exhale, OK.  HOW AMAZING IS THAT!?  Furthermore, if that waitress can donate one of her kidneys to a complete stranger without hesitation, why do we find it too much of a burden to donate our extra change to the guy ringing the bell outside the supermarket?  Why do we never seem to be able to find the time to spend a couple of hours volunteering for a cause that we think is important or spend quality time with a child we might know who could use some practice catching a baseball or some help with their homework?  Why do we hardly ever donate that dollar to the Make-a-Wish table at the mall or put that extra five bucks in with our heating bill to help someone cold?  Why do we just write a check for ten bucks two times a year when we attend church at Christmas and Easter?  (You know you do that…)

At the VERY least… why don’t we sign the back of our driver’s license and tell our family that in the event we or they (on our behalf) have the opportunity to save someone’s life through organ donation (after we are already gone), that we would like to do so???  Isn’t that the very LEAST we could do (I mean, we’re dead right?) and yet isn’t it also the very MOST we could do for someone else?

I have an idea… Let’s all find a New Year’s resolution this year that makes sense.  Maybe we can all try to be at least a little bit like our favorite South American waitress.  How about if we find SOMETHING to do for someone else – and actually DO IT, even if it’s as simple as signing our driver's license?

P.S.

That little show was a good one.  J

More info:

http://www.transplantsupport.org/faqs.html

cake photo by Danielle Graham

UPDATE 12-12-11:

I have just learned that signing the back of your driver's license is no longer the most up-to-date or efficient way to indicate your desire to be an organ donor.  The Transplant Support Organization is encouraging people to enroll in their state's "Donate Life Registry."  Click here: http://donatelife.net/ to find simple, easy ways to register in your state.

#GigsGoneWrong

Here’s a text message I sent to Russ about how a gig was going recently.  There are three things you should know:  1.) Russ is my husband and fellow musician.  2.) “Jeeves” is my GPS navigator.  3.) Names have been changed to protect the “not so innocent.”

“At dead end, Jeeves told me to make a left… then no mic cuz no outlet, then no monitors, then car would’ve got ticket if Little Sam didn’t move – now I gotta pay him to figure out where the hell he put it”

Russ responded:

“Lovely.  Can you pay him in pistachios?”

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This is not an unusual conversation for us.  In fact, the whole experience was not that unusual. 

It all started just prior to a seven-hour car ride from Buffalo.  Because we were crunched for time, I asked Russ to create a playlist for me on my iPod with the songs I needed to learn for that weekend’s show.  I would listen while driving.  We were both driving from Buffalo to the NYC area, but in two separate cars.  He based the playlist on the email I had received containing gig info, and was going to also include some additional songs I mentioned.  Shortly into the drive I realized that four songs were missing from the playlist.  Luckily, they were already on my iPod so creating another “On The Go” list from the road was not too difficult.  I could have done it while driving – although I am NOT saying that THAT is what I did.

After the long drive and the unpacking of car, walking of dogs, and sketchy sleeping… after the waking up groggy and hunting for food because of an empty fridge and no coffee, getting ready for the gig was even more hectic than usual.  It always takes longer when you have to dig through your suitcase to find every little thing you need and have to unpack and repack your gig bag and find your damn shoes and winter coat.  I was running late so I asked Russ for help again.  He printed my gig directions and transferred my song lyrics from iPod to iPad (thanks Russ).  Finally I was out the door.

Of COURSE there was a questionable amount of gas in the car (I’d probably make it to the gig – but all the way back home? – Would there be a gas station near the venue?)  I had recently run out of gas on the way home from a gig in Jersey because there were NO gas stations open nearby at that hour, and I didn’t want to go through THAT again!  I stopped at the bottom of the Palisades for cheap gas.  There was hardly a line!  Great!  While the guy was filling the tank I glanced at the directions Russ had printed (I had been using my navigator, Jeeves, until then).  To my horror they directed me nowhere near where I was.  How could they vary so wildly from Jeeves?!?!  I called Russ.

Russ said, “Oh yeah… The shortest route could lead you straight into traffic where you could be sitting for hours, so I chose a different route avoiding all of that.”  Great.  Now I was stuck on the route with all of the potential traffic jam-ups.  I felt the blood rush to my chest in a bout of undue stress.  I asked Russ to read me the gig email (which there was no time to print because my computer ran out of battery just as I was walking out the door) to make sure there was nothing ELSE I might’ve missed.

Argh!  There was another song listed in the email that I hadn’t listened to!  What was THAT?!?!  Russ said it had a male lead vocal and he hadn’t thought I needed it when he made the playlist.  “But there may be important background vocals!”  I was getting exasperated.  Fine.  He emailed me a YouTube link to the song to view once I got to the gig.  I should’ve put together my own playlist anyway.  I was more annoyed that Russ hadn’t walked the dogs yet.  (And Russ turned out to be right about the song… I hadn’t needed it… but don’t tell HIM that OK?)

Traffic was light throughout the city, so I was doing fine on time.  I wasn’t even really that concerned when I missed my exit and ended up on local residential roads in a totally unfamiliar area.  It wasn’t until I came to a complete stop at a dead end facing the water and heard Jeeves say, “make a left here” that I started to panic again.  “JEEVES!” I said out loud, “You are just WRONG.”  I turned the car around, ignoring Jeeves’ attempts to get me to “turn around when possible.”  Glancing at the clock, I realized I was still doing fine on time and relaxed.  I kept driving until a “recalculation” led me to the venue, and after a couple of u-turns trying to figure out how the hell to access the parking lot, I pulled up to the valet guys.

They told me to park along the side of the building, next to the dumpsters, and things were looking up when I got the last parking spot there.  Never mind the way the horn player drove up behind me, rolled down his window and informed me that I was no longer his friend for taking that last spot.  J  I unloaded my mic, stand and gig bag and headed inside after knocking on the window of the car next to me, where the male vocalist was listening to his songs, and making him jump.  I smiled after successfully scaring him.  (This particular group I work with is full of old friends who banter constantly and make things extra fun.)  We both laughed and I trudged up the ramp toward the front doors of the venue.

Once inside, I set up my equipment, said hello to the other female lead vocalist (who is very nice and whom I hadn’t seen in years), changed my shoes, put the bags away and got ready to sing.  When the sound guy/guitar player asked me to check my mic and it didn’t work, I noticed that there was no power running to the wireless receiver.  The kid helping out (Little Sam) said there was a bad outlet.  There was no time for anyone to run out to the car where the spare power strip was.  “Use this.”  The bandleader handed me an extra cordless mic.  Why did I even bring my mic if there was already an extra one here?  It didn’t matter.  Someone said, “Go Tan!” while playing a “B” and I started singing “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.” 

It was then that we realized that the monitors (speakers for the band and vocalists to hear themselves) weren’t working.  “Oh yeah,” the sound guy said, “They’re not working.  I don’t know what’s wrong with them.”  Good times, good times.  I smiled as I remembered that I just recently retweeted a Twitter post, under the trend #gigsgonewrong, about a sketchy monitor system (I had added, “What monitors!!?? LOL”).

Oh well.  I was still having fun.  I didn’t even mind when the extra mic ran out of battery or when the bandleader accidentally introduced the newlyweds while the parents were entering the room and my rendition of “This Will Be” was rudely interrupted by the protest of several hundred people and we had to do a “do over.”  (This was actually not as big a deal as it sounds here.)  It wasn’t even a big deal when someone told me they had to move my car because the Sheriff was outside ready to give the whole band tickets for parking near the dumpsters.  It was fine.  I just handed over my keys to Little Sam who moved the car.

When the keys were returned and I was told I didn’t get a ticket and that the car was now safely parked “way on the other side” (probably two miles away – God know where), I said to the male vocalist: “Wait a minute… he’s gonna get it for me at the end of the night right?”  He just laughed.  Then I said, “Wait a minute… I don’t have to TIP him do I!?”  (More laughter.)  Then I asked, “How am I even going to FIND the car at the end of the night!?”  He replied, with more laughter still, “That’s why you gotta pay him!”  (This was followed by cackles of laughter.)  GAW!!!  Fine.  During the break, I asked Little Sam if he would accept payment in gum. J  He seemed intrigued by the idea so I had high hopes that I would get off easily.  (Even though I knew that I only had one stale piece of gum in my purse.)

The broken glass on the floor (dropped by guests), the drunken girls who seemed to be flirting and flashing us, the busted ear drum I had from walking in front of the speaker just as the bandleader yelled something – none of it really bothered me.  Every crazy thing gone wrong only seemed to add to the charm of the evening.  The band was doing a great job despite everything (even the drummer’s sprained ankle) and the people were having a wonderful time.  The event was a smashing success!  Everyone LOVED the band and we ate well.  We even were served salad and dessert in addition to our choice of entrées (a MAJOR gig plus if you ask me)!  All of my bandmates were jovial and the whole gig was great fun!  I even stayed around for an hour after the show talking and listening to the others’ original music/videos.  I even gave Little Sam five bucks for helping with the car. J

Over the years, there’ve been many #gigsgonewrong.  Some were REALLY wrong.  There was the time my boyfriend left with another girl, and the time I threw up into a paper bag during a guitar solo (stomach virus, not alcohol).  This was the same gig where I let the bass player drive my car and I thought he was going to kill us.  He SAID he had a license, but I don’t know.  There was the time the drummer didn’t show up because he was in JAIL, there was the one where I had pneumonia and gargled with lidocaine to get through it, and the time the sound truck broke down and we arrived at the venue to find that the hotel manager, who hired us, had broken out in stress hives by the time the speakers arrived on the back of a tow truck.  There was the time *I* arrived by tow truck!  I could go on and on here… I mean, how about when the bi-polar bass player didn’t take his meds and told the corporate client that she was a f’n c#%! then went on a rampage knocking things over?  There are plenty more examples of #gigsgonewrong, but I digress.

The point is…. (am I EVER going to get one?)  The point is that these crazy things happen often.  Most of the time, nobody in the audience even realizes, and we have a great show!  Here’s another point: if you want quiet predictability, DON’T be a musician – or even in business for yourself at all for that matter.  Remember the movie “Parenthood?”  This is a “rollercoaster ride.”  Buckle up baby, and as Robbie (from the studio) says, “Have FUN!”

Downtime: What Do I Do Now??!!

I would happily do whatever it is that I am supposed to do.   I would work eighteen hour long days for long stretches at a time, uproot myself and move to the other side of the country for a while, raise up some amazing source of inner strength when faced with an extreme challenge threatening to undermine my sense of self worth, rescue some stray dog out on the street, spend my last dime recording my own album, earn more money then spend it all again promoting that album, drive all over creation hand delivering press kits… (I have done all these things).  The problem is that it is not always clear what I am actually supposed to be doing. 

I suppose that in any business, there are choices to make with regard to how exactly to proceed, but the music business in particular has a little devil called “downtime.”  Today, I have answered the age old question of what the hell to do during it for myself. 

Downtime is a lull.  It is that time just after the completion of a task during which you have kept very busy – and before the start of the next specific task to be accomplished.  It can be very depressing to work long hours for months on a television show to find yourself suddenly with nothing to do for a while until rehearsals start for the next project.  You might think one would appreciate a break during this time – and I do (for a while).  But then, I start to feel like I might be lazy, or that I am not doing all I can (or all that I am supposed to be doing) to get to that ever elusive “next level.”  The possibilities are endless… I could audition for commercials, write a new song, sit in on some open mics, handle my bills or get a start on my taxes, organize my house, sell stuff on ebay, get the word out that I am available for freelance work, reconnect with old bandmates, go out and support local shows, create an advertising plan, book new shows, put my contact list in the computer, research new smartphones, finally master the art of applying false eyelashes…. I could go on for days here.

Then what if you don’t have an upcoming “next project” and you have to create one?  What should it be?  A live show?  A new album?  New single?  New video for old single?  What’s the strategy?  Advertising campaign?  Who should you talk to about creating this advertising campaign?  Is it time for a photo shoot?  What’s the new “look”?  Now what? I could go crazy…

NOW WHAT?????

Here’s what I came up with.  I can never go wrong if I am learning.  When the world starts spinning and I start losing sleep agonizing over what to do next, I should educate myself about something.  Anything.  When I am paralyzed by the endless possibilities and end up accomplishing nothing, I should learn something.  Whatever it is I learn will guide me in some way toward the next thing.  I will shed that empty feeling of non-accomplishment and propel myself toward something positive if only I expand my mind a little and gain a little focus.  If nothing else, I will learn what it is that I want to learn.  If I get bored reading the manual for my iPad, I might try a music sight-reading app and strengthen my reading skills.  If that isn’t exciting enough, I might discover it’s more inspirational to read a biography of some amazing woman, which may motivate me to do some little thing in my own life, which may grow into some big thing and then suddenly I am back on the right path again of what I am supposed to be doing.  

I could learn about great organizations and volunteer for something.  In fact, I just Googled “downtime” and found an organization that helps coordinate musicians experiencing downtime with non-profits looking for help!   Cool!

In a nutshell, I will get back to basics when life gets confusing and learn something – educate myself in some way.  I can never go wrong with that.  It will start me on a trend.  I will then follow that trend until I am led to the next phase.  I will be moving in the right direction.  I will get an idea. 

What I should NOT do is… overeat, wallow, spend money, stay in bed, drink… (could go on for days here too).

I think a good idea would be to balance a healthy dose of learning with some writing and exercise and mix that with a little practical accomplishment like cleaning the car, house, or work on finances.  Keep one foot marching in front of the other – hold on to my faith and good things will come.

Any thoughts?