In the Saddle

…I feel so much cleaner!!!!!

overit:

Minus the whole can’t-breathe-the-air-thing, the hardest part about moving to L.A. has been finding a fucking doctor. And, well, paying for health insurance in general, of course.

Actually, that’s an exaggeration. It’s not the hardest part, but it does suck.

My response to all things bad in LA?

MOVE HOME!

…my coworker mentioned she’d seen a random shark movie with Stephen Baldwin in it…

…which led my other coworker to ask who all the Baldwins are…

…which led that coworker to ask what ever happened to Billy Baldwin…

…which led me to say that he seemed relatively normal…

…which led me to mention that Billy Baldwin is married to Chynna Phillips…

…which led my coworker to get Chynna Phillips and Carnie Wilson confused…

…and now “Hold On” is stuck in my head…

Sigh.

So J and I went to see Carrie Underwood (what? I love her) at Ravinia, an outdoor, Tanglewood-like venue in a northern suburb of Chicago. A very Jewish northern suburb of Chicago. But that comes into play later.

Ms. Underwood was wonderful. She has a tremendous voice and she definitely uses it well. She put on a great show. The only eenie weenie little snafu was during the song “Jesus, Take the Wheel”, when Carrie said to the (almost entirely) Jewish audience “I don’t know y’all’s faith, but this song means a lot to me and I’d love it if y’all would sing along”. Well, Carrie…you’re not gonna get a whole lot of Jesus singing in Jewishland. It was a sad silence that faced her when she turned her mic towards the audience. Not in a spiteful way, just in a “hmm…okay…Jesus songs don’t really mean the same thing to us as they do to you…when are you going to play ‘Before He Cheats’?” kind of mentality. Poor gal was probably on her tour bus later on thinking to herself What the hell WAS that?

Lesson to be learned: Know your demo before you ask for Jesus singalongs.

Also: Don’t save “Before He Cheats” for the encore.

I may regret this.

Feel bad for me.

Actually don’t, because I willingly put myself through it.

Just…I don’t know…join me in my sorrow of $11 and two plus hours wasted.

Just watched an episode of My So-Called Life during my lunch break. Oh my god, I forgot how good that show was.

…more tomorrow. Now, bed.

I’ve lost the will to work this afternoon. I’m re’t to jet outta here.

Surprisingly, I feel okay about my show tonight. I’m not dreading it. I will be happy once it’s over. But it should be fun. No pressure, really. Just people coming out to support. They’ll love it (hopefully) no matter what I do. And if I mess up, I mess up. It doesn’t matter.

Even if they hate it. It doesn’t matter.

I will go home and get dressed (what should I wear? Hmmmm) and be on my way. And this ball of nerves will go away eventually.

Irv, we were never IN aisle seven. Honest! I’m tellin’ ya!

I’m tired and antsy. Would like to go home and not deal with anything.

I decided to get a scramble instead of my originally intended upon over-mediums. Wasn’t as good as it could have been. Well, no, the eggs were great…I just wasn’t as into it as I would have had I gone with my first choice. That’s indecision for you. Oh well.

My show at Schuba’s is tomorrow and it’s the point in pre-show week where I get all freaked out and nervous. During these times, I dread the next day, wonder why I do these things to myself and ignore all excited “I’m coming to your show!” emails, texts and messages. You may ask, why do you do this if you hate it so much?

I don’t hate the performing aspect, most of the time…when it’s good, it’s really good and a fun release. I hate the anticipation and pressure of it and that’s enough to make me dread even the most benign show booking. I’ve tried not to do it, I barely perform as it is nowadays…but I get this itch. This artist itch. The need to sing and perform and get my songs out there. Much as I hate it, it is ingrained in me. I do view the ability to sing as a gift from heredity or god or whom/whatever and every so often I get a big urge to use it. Singing in the shower or while you’re doing dishes just isn’t always enough.

I need to get over myself, really. This won’t be anything but fun. Right? Right?