The World…As I See It: Alas, An Idol I Am Not

Enjoy the musical stylings of someone I just saw in concert but doubt would be chosen by American Idol either.  (Not that I’m comparing, just saying)

Corinne Bailey Rae “Closer”

This week I auditioned for Season 10 of American Idol.  (I couldn’t believe it’d been 10 years.  I must confess I can only remember 7 of the 9.  Is that bad? Oh well…)  The process is simple (an initial cattle call with the producers) and very early( I had to be in line by 5 am.  I only see that type of morning by accident).  Anyway, after waiting for 7 hours, I was told I would not be the next American Idol.  There was the initial pang of disappointment but then I picked up my purse and started to move on (figuratively and literally, it was a cattle call after all).

Being told you’re not good enough should have more of an impact if you really wanted something, right?  Sure, being a part of American Idol would’ve been a dream come true but for some reason I wasn’t all that surprised and therefore not all that disappointed.  I hadn’t really been able to envision myself in Hollywood, meeting Ryan Seacrest and trying to make teenagers and middle-aged moms simultaneously fall in love with me enough to text in votes.  It just sounded like something I needed to do.

(Plus, I may have just set myself up.  I chose to sing “My Funny Valentine.”  It’s a great song but since my valentine this year turned out to be a bust, I may have still had that bad energy around the song…. Just a thought.)

I love music.  Nothing moves me as much as sounds.  Words alone have minimal power.  And while images can be beautiful, nothing can twist or fill my heart as much as a good song.  And I pretty much love it all.  While r&b and jazz are what I listen to the most, I can appreciate a good country, rock or classical song.  I like to mix it up.  Borrow my iPod someday and you’ll understand.  Give me something new to learn about.

However, my love for music never fully translated into loving to be a performer.  I love singing.  I enjoy being on stage and hearing my voice over a PA system.  But that’s never been what I missed.  I’ve missed hearing all of the sounds meld.  I miss performing with a band.  I miss almost getting distracted by the bass line and missing my cues.  I miss forgetting there’s a crowd or audience and vibing with the other people on stage whether it was with a viola in my hand in orchestra, donning a robe in choir or 4 inch heels at a club with a band.

I also love writing.  It’s not necessarily the process that I love because I don’t really have a process.  Some songs start and never get finished while others are completed in two hours.  However, I think it’s cool to hear other people sing what you wrote.  They can styilze it as much as they want but in the end the song is mine, my words.  That’s kind of a cool feeling, I must admit.

And I’m also good.  I know we’re all supposed to be somewhat humble but I’ll accept that amongst other things, singing is a talent I possess, a talent I was given.  Unfortunately, I never felt pushed enough to really hone my skill.  Instead, I relied upon what came naturally and easily.  If I can be good without practicing, who needs to be amazing?  That kind of attitude probably has something to do with not being chosen.  But I don’t care how amazing you are, it’s hard to display that in 5-7 seconds.  I need to warm up.  🙂

Regardless, music is a part of me but being famous may not be in the stars.  And that’s just fine.  Despite having a certain level of talent, I never really had the desire.  Fame is great and I’m not knocking it.  If I had the opportunity, I’m sure I’d jump.  But while it’s not a reality and I can be happy that my career does not depend as heavily on what I can do as what I look like.  Hair, make-up, personal trainers and plastic surgery do not help me do my job.  I think that’s often more important than the talent in music nowadays.  I accept that American Idol is not meant for me.  But at least I tried, I can’t complain if I don’t try, right?

Plus, I refuse to believe I wasn’t good enough.  I just wasn’t what they were looking for.  That has to be closer to the truth.  Haha.

On to the next adventure,

Jo’van

No Patience for You: “My Bad” is NOT “I’m Sorry”

“Tired of Waiting for You” by The Kinks

This evening I was supposed to have band rehearsal.  Yes, I’m in a band…  Sunday evening, our keyboard player asked me to get together sometime this week to work on a song I’d written.  We settled on Thursday and I put it in my phone, making it official.  🙂

I knew today was going to be a LONG day.  And it was.  But the only things to do after a long day are relax or have fun.  I was excited to work on this song and had no problem with all of the shitty things associated with it.

  • You see we hold our rehearsals and studio sessions at our lead singers house.  He just so happens to live 20 miles from my home, 25 miles from my office.
  • With my new job, I  can only rehearse after work, which means after 5:30 or so.  Going 25 miles in rush hour traffic can easily take you over an hour.
  • Going straight to rehearsal after work means no dinner.  So I stopped at Whattaburger near his house.  They were out of chicken strips and asked me to pull around and they’d bring it out to me.  20 minutes passed and I went inside.  They’d forgotten about me and were out of chicken strips again.  They comped my meal, apologized profusely and 10 minutes later I had my meal in hand, although it was technically 30 minutes later.
  • If you arrive after 7:30 pm on a weeknight to my apartment complex, all of the close parking is taken (including by my roommate’s boyfriend).  You’re forced to park 8 buildings from your own.

All of these things suck but are not a concern when you’re doing what you’re supposed to.  Sacrifices I make to rehearse or record with my band.  HOWEVER, these things are not okay when other people screw up.

As I left the Whattaburger down the street from the house, the lead singer returned an earlier call.  He wasn’t home b/c the keyboard player hadn’t answered any calls that day.  Okay, call the keyboard player.  He started by making excuses, backtracking.  It was obvious he had no idea why I thought we were getting together.  It was someone else’s fault.  I mean no one else was available.  We’re getting together tomorrow. Blah blah blah.  When I mentioned the name of the specific song we were supposed to work on, I could practically hear the light bulb go on it his head.  “Oh, Tiff.  That’s all on me.  I completely forgot.”

Being completely annoyed, I refused to make him feel better about forgetting.  It was his idea.  He set it up.  And then tried to blame other people?  No.  Okay, okay. Shit happens.  Things get lost.  And all of the crappy additions making this situation worse are not his fault.  BUT admitting fault is not the same as apologizing.   I wanted to hear him say I’m sorry.  I’d just sat in an hour of traffic, waited 30 minutes for 3 minute food, lost any good parking at home and all I get is  “That’s all on me”?  No shit, Sherlock.  It couldn’t be on anyone else.  I just need to hear you apologize.  Be sorry I just wasted 2 hours of my life b/c you were too lazy to write an appointment you set down.

Cooling off but still annoyed,

Jo’van

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