My LA life is a mix of being an artist and business person. When you try to fit into so many different worlds and selves, it’s not the easiest thing to negotiate your identity and intention with yourself. Also, just logistically, it’s not the easiest thing to do. There are only so many hours of the day. Best practice in life seems to focus on just 1 thing. My deadline for starting to develop and act on that focus is May 8. Until then…
Starting my consulting business
Working with a partner I met through a mutual friend. We’re helping with brand, strategy, and business development, with some emphasis on fashion. We’re sort of working on a related tech startup too, but that’s a little less defined. I hope this becomes successful! I don’t really want to wait tables at California Pizza Kitchen, but I’ll do it if it means free pizza. Here’s us on set in DTLA last week:
On the first day of our songwriting class, a middle-aged woman who looked more banker than hippie introduced herself to the class. “I’m Teresa. Listen, you can call me Mama T. I do mostly spoken word, and I’m writing rap lyrics for my son.” I was seriously perplexed and looked to her wrist and ears for signs of expensive jewelry or watches. Something to validate my expectations. I think she may have been wearing a beanie, the one boho-esque adornment, but it just didn’t add up. I couldn’t see her on the stage at the Nuyorican Cafe doing her thing, though she seemed pretty out there.
Over the course of the last few weeks, I’ve grown to know Mama T a bit better. It turns out we went to the same grad school, and she did used to be a banker! And then a fundraiser for universities. She was out in LA because her first son had died of an overdose after getting out of rehab, and her second son (18 years old) was in rehab as well. She was going to do everything she could do to save him. Continue reading Mama T→
I started learning guitar. I needed a (non-traumatic) way to return to my love of music and to distract myself from “thoughts.” My trauma is really associated with the piano and merciless Asian tiger parent monitoring. (Shivers!). Music just operates on a different plane. It’s a language, emotion, field. It has the power to transport and heal.
When I was younger, I played piano and sang classical/opera. The first instrument I learned was actually violin, but that abruptly ended when at the age of 4 or so, I took my tiny quarter size violin and bashed it over my babysitter’s head for interrupting me and talking too much while I was practicing. The bridge was solidly bashed in, and my parents apparently did not think it was a good idea to get a new one. I still remember that moment very well. Years later, we would apologize to the little Korean granny when we would run into her at the grocery store. Yes, I was kind of a little devil child. I’m trying to make up for it in my old age.
Now that I’m back in NYC, I have retrieved my guitar and plan to reengage. I’ve started to put together a list of songs to learn. Most of them are massively cheesy. This little rendition of “Collide” by Howie Day is a bit iffy with my cold and sharpness, but oh well. Next purchase, a capo. Next mission, finding a good website / online tutorial for guitar.
My musings on life, travel, and (I suppose eventually) work. Just trying to balance left and right brain, the urge to do vs. be. Easy stuff.
