Artist’s Angst

Note from me: I wrote this post in early April but never published it. It seems that now is the time to let it all hang out before I start the “New York Chronicles.”

April 2, 2013
I go through this a lot. This self examination, this self incrimination.

It was a normal morning. I stayed up till dawn watching a Sci-Fi series via Netflix on TV so I slept late. I was feeling hopeful. I booked two gigs this morning and I’m up for an award for Industry Excellence in Entertainment. Not a bad way to greet my waking hours. Then I read an interesting bit of information. George R.R. Martin, the author of “Game of Thrones” used to live in my very apartment. He wrote his first novel here probably in the very room in which I sit now writing this blog. Immediately I imagined all sorts of artist’s inspiring energy that must still linger here. AH! That’s the inspiration I seek! I read further. He attended Northwestern University as well! Kismet! But like a any good self defeating artist I began to see where the similarities ended. George Martin was a go-getter. I am not. He graduated with high honors, got a Masters degree and taught, published his works, hustled and moved all before the age of thirty. My overall feeling of loserness returned with a vengeance. Then I moved onto a radio segment featuring the wildly talented 27 year old Jazz bassist Esperanza Spalding. Remember her? She shocked the world by beating out Justin Bieber to win a “Best New Artist” Grammy last year. I don’t even remember what I was doing at age 27. I wasn’t winning any Grammys I can tell you that.

“Oh my! Methinks I might be too old to be trying to make it in show-business now.” What the HELL am I thinking? I will never get this thing off the ground! That’s when the real self doubt kicked in. I start the roll-call of my defects.

I’m 51 years old, obese, drowning in debt, with a non too small lack of motivation. I partied, ate and slept my youthful years away. I had a “Heyday” in the jobbing world here for about a decade but that has diminished greatly with some help from the economy. I have a trunkful of regrets marked by inaction and try as I might (and I am an expert at it) I have tried to ignore it all. And here I am closer to the end than the beginning of my tenure on this planet.

I know I am gifted. I am surrounded by loving, supportive fans just waiting for me to just do something – anything. I have the technology, I see the path before me as it reappears again and again. I have thrown away many great opportunities all of my life. They haunt my waking hours even as I suppress them. I don’t blame the industry or Chicago, or America or Society. I blame myself. I am insecure but I know that I have great talent. Maybe I am destined to be one of those greatly talented people who just never got it together. Oh GOD! What is wrong with me? Is it fear? Is my inability to grab hold and go forward born out of some repressed memory of some childhood trauma? Am I just fucking lazy? A lot of my artist friends think I have it made. My closest friend (an actress who pays her bills with a small accounting business) tells me all the time: “I would kill to have your life.” Maybe I’m just crazy. I am somewhat accomplished but there’s so much more I should be doing.

That damned one woman show.

Singing in New York City.

I have so many stories in my head. I have so many stories written down. I don’t know where to begin.

There are folks out there kicking ass every day. There are artists struggling, producing and getting somewhere. I want to be one of them.

I go through this. A lot.

I realize now that I can not let my past continue to rule my life and dictate my future. I try to inspire and encourage people everyday. Methinks it’s time to take my own advice.

Forget about the past. I can’t change it. But I can change this.

Plan. Go forward.

I have to write this one woman show. I know it will change everything.

I have to be heard in New York. I feel a calling to that city.

I must do it.


Time is running out.

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