"GOOD GRIEF, Amanda Ashley."

Why, throw me in a yellow dress painted with brown zig zags, and call me the female Charlie Brown. The natural trials and tribulations of life often lead me to question everything's purpose, including my own from time to time.  What is satirical is the fact that I felt as if everywhere I turned, there was some type of reassurance that the decision I had made was right. Signs; they were everywhere, and still are everywhere. It's in my fortune, it's in the scribble on the bathroom stalls, it's in the people who've been sent to me, the opportunities that come forth. In essence, It all feels very spiritual, and I never really considered myself to be a spiritual person. 

The hardest part of being a performer is always having to have the switch turned "ON." Everyone knows that life is not comprised of rainbows and butterflies, but when it comes to the entertainment world, it's always better to appear as if it is. I have choked through seven days of performances,  forcing myself out of the numbing hypnosis which otherwise would have left me with bed sores and a pillow soaked in tears. I do not possess a fake bone in my body. Anyone who knows me personally or who reads my writing; whether it be in the form of poetry, song, or this very blog, will be able to tell you that.  I've vowed to remain honest, and I write from my heart because it's the only way I can successfully release and regain the clarity and perspective I need in order to continue pushing forward. Any artist I've ever admired or respected has done the same. There's a beauty to all that is ugly. It's there for a reason, it's there to teach us something. 

Seldom for most artists is there a happy medium between the highs and lows in life.  Creative people experience life and emotion in all extremities: The HIGHS are extremely high, the LOWS are extremely low. When we fall in love, we dive deep. We long to feel with every fiber of our existence, we yearn to experience, we fantasize. 

The past eight months have brought me HIGHS  that could have shattered the sky, and LOWS that could have buried me deep into the earth with the artifacts of the world. April 4th I will be entering the next bracket in life. Soon to have invested thirty years down, this next decade I vow to live purposefully happy. In establishing a vow to myself, I've come to head with change, and the painful decision to release certain people from my life.  I've covered A LOT of ground in my twenties; I've experienced college, I've built a life in a city far away from home, I've been married, I've divorced, I've traveled, I've discovered my purpose, I've built a career for myself, I've loved and been loved, I've lost and been lost. With each lesson came a dose of pain. Reflecting back, I now understand that it was the "Good Grief" in life that helped shape me into the confident woman I am today. 

The social ability that I possess to converse with just about anyone is a trait I've gratefully inherited from my mother. The past eight days I've struggled to outrun the storming cloud, torrentially down pouring over my head.. My heart has never felt soo broken, and I've never felt soo empty. After coming out of a divorce, I didn't think it was humanly possible to feel anymore heartbreak or disappointment. To be brought back to a dark place after experiencing an elevated level of happiness made me want to set myself and the world ablaze. Self doubt, anger, crying spells, mourning of an absence, panic; all became a very consuming, mundane part of my day. In the midst of all this, I had one of the busiest working weeks to  perform to the best of my ability. Channeling all negativity creatively and  surrounding myself with the genuine loves of my life has helped me to regain consciousness during both devastations. 

What's ironic, is that throughout both periods of grief, I've experienced random encounters with strangers who also were grieving for completely unrelated reasons. This week is a PERFECT example. Monday night, after hosting Lemoncello's Fresh Squeezed, I was packing up my belongings as a nice man at the bar began to talk to me, and offered me a drink. I sat next to him at the bar, and through conversation I found out that just a few days before, he had lost his long term girlfriend to the evils of addiction. Wounded and with glossy eyes, we spoke of one another's heartbreak, and tried to make sense of it all. We spoke of loss and absence, perseverance and moving forward. By conversation's end, we shook hands and wished one another's heart a sincere, healthy recovery. That same evening, earlier I also received a text. The text was from one of my musician friends who recommended and passed my telephone number to a friend who was looking for a piano player to perform at her father's funeral service. 

Two days later, Dressed all in black and accessorized with a red flower, I sang "Amazing Grace" to a room full of mourning strangers. In that moment, I became a part of what could quite possibly be the most devastating day of someone's life. The moment was uncomfortably intimate. I felt like an intruder. I sat and listened through each story and recollection of one man's life, who had an impact on many. A ball buster, a family man, a lover of life, a man who loved his animals; taken from the world too soon. I cried for the people in the room, I cried over the thought of losing my parents, I cried because I felt foolish for having had cried soo many days before. In the grand scheme of life, a break-up seemed far less significant. 

My last example comes from last night's performance at Victoire Belgium Beer Bar in Rochester, NY. As I was packing my gear, a young college student came up to compliment my performance and to tell me about his friend whom he later introduced. Soon enough I was engaged in conversation with a sweet twenty two year old Connecticuit boy who studies engineering at RIT, and who is getting back into playing guitar. I come to later find out he also just recently had his heart smashed due to his fiance leaving him. Previously in her relationship she was abused, and damage of her prior experience began to take toll on her current relationship. We talked for an hour, and once again I found myself in the company of another complete stranger exchanging perspective and vulnerabilities. 

Twenty Two. I was engaged at twenty three and I now realize that never should have happened. A month shy of thirty, I think back to all the various cycles my twenties brought me through. How much my mind has developed since, and I look at the person I've become. I shared this all with him, and assured him better days ahead have yet to come, and that because of this, he will be able to navigate through life more intelligently and happily. 

Performing at the funeral ceremony made me think about the different levels which we love, and which we experience devastation. The love I felt the day I got married, and the love I felt in my heart with my most recent are incomparable. My first love was a love that was struggling to mature, where as with the second, I was loving with a full heart and  awareness. Second time around I felt confident with all that I had to offer, and what I wanted to give. I'm more aware of my needs, and wants, where my tolerance lies. I am able to acknowledge that my love is valuable, and that I am not willing to settle for any less than what I deserve. As much as my broken heart wants to write off each relationship as a regret; reflecting back, I now know that each has served it's purpose in providing me with the knowledge and strength I need in order to proceed throughout life. I believe that my existence in my ex's lives was purposeful, and I hope that the awareness which I brought them will make them better men, and better partners in their future. This is the "Grief" that is "Good." Maybe it's rational grief. Part of it all depends on how you choose to deal with it and carry on. 

So what do they all have in common;  the Ball buster family man, the woman lost to addiction, or the abused young girl who fled from engagement? The loss of each individual inflicted pain to sincere pain to another, but in turn also brought on an awareness to those around them. 


WHAT I'VE LEARNED:

A) Never dismiss intuition 

B) Always be the better person 

C) It's okay to feel. Look for the GOOD in Grief. 

D) Those who truly care will step up in the most unimaginable ways.  

E)  The best decisions are sometimes the ones that hurt the most. 

F) I am stronger than I believed. 

G) Your heart never breaks the same twice. 

It is human nature to respond by comforting ourselves with the things in life that have sustained a constant reliability. Art and the unconditional love of my immediate family and closest friends are the only relationships I can rely on to save me from myself. One week from today I leave for a thirty day journey back down South. The original intention of the trip has fallen through. However, now I see that it's come at a time which I need to step away, regroup, and refocus. May my experiences continue to guide me in becoming a more improvable woman. 

FREE BIRD!

No, I'm not referring to the most over requested song in history. A free SONG bird; spreading her wings, flying forcefully against the wind, to the soundtrack of a rhythmically beating heart. I worry and question that this high may lead to unrealistic expectations, but am willing to gamble the odds. This entire week in Nashville has helped me again exhale without feeling a quiver. I've surrounded myself with friends, new and old, some of which have even taken the plunge and moved from Rochester. I often entertain the idea of moving, and having good friends already established in music city makes it all that more tempting to pack my bags and leave. However, this time around, knowing that I no longer have anything holding me back, I am peering through my bold blue frames with fresh lenses.

 I've been taking it all in; the good and bad, questioning the thoughts and experiences of those who have made the move, and sending out some feelers as to whether or not I believe moving is in my cards. Moving sucks. I've been moving this entire month and a half out of my house and it's daunting and exhausting. I really want to cautiously progress with every next step and stage of my life here forward. The necessity to invest a considerable amount of thought into my next move, has led to my development of Plan A, B and C. Fantasy, Fall backs, and reality. Time to put them in motion. 

This past week has had me thinking a whole lot, raising many questions for me to explore: Being in the land of dreamers, doers and believers, I wonder if a compromised balance can be found between them all? Is one the catalyst for the other? Does how much we believe in ourselves determine our will to push forward in "doing" what deems to be necessary in order to bring us one step closer to our dreams? Does one's failure to persevere through those crippling times diminish the competition on the other's behalf, pushing them ahead, making them more fit for survival? These questions, I've stored in the back of my mind and am constantly considering.  

It's been a week of binging on music and whisky. However, inch by inch the pins and needles from what has detained me back at home have been ejected, and slowly I've begun stitching back together the pieces of my heart.

Perfect moments with beautiful strangers. THAT is what my Nashville experience has consisted of, both past and present. I'm beginning to believe that my musical retreat here has been to serve a purpose above and beyond the fantasy of record deals, and wider musical acknowledgment. 

One year ago I toured the South, making Tennessee the focal point of my expedition. The universe brought me at the footstep of three perfect strangers, just two days after they had moved into their new house in East Nashville. For eight days they welcomed me into their new home, as the estranged, aspiring New York singer-songwriter crashing on their couch and making noise in their living room. By day seven, our bond had fully bloomed. By day nine, I found myself leaving with swelled, watery eyes not knowing how much time would pass before I'd have the opportunity to make it back to Nashville. 

Weeks passed, and summer began to rapidly morph into fall. One another again we found; this time they, at my doorstep in Rochester, NY.  Briefly, we united to exchange worlds Thursday through Sunday. Proving that Northern hospitality exists, I showed them everything and all of what I believed to be beautiful in both Rochester and New York City.  My biggest priority that weekend was to provide them with an experience that they'd forever be grateful for, just as they had done for me during my visit in Nashville. 

Laughter. Those whom which I hold closest to in my heart are the ones whom which I can laugh and cry hardest with. Those are the friends that I'll keep by my side forever. Dry moments don't ever exist with these three, and that's how I knew from the very beginning that our friendship was one of sincere value. 

These are the days which I live for laughter, and need it most.  Up until the past few months, I never before deemed it possible to feel such a broad number of emotions in such a brief span of time. The occurrences, the progression, the acceptance, the reality, the excitement, the fear….. it's all very emotionally taxing. At times it felt like I was walking head on, in slow motion, towards a tidal wave. The anxiety, overwhelming. My thoughts, disturbed. 

For almost six months I had this week reserved on my calendar in anticipation of a possible second tour down south in promotion of my recent album release with my Trio. As all begun to unravel in my personal life, so did my chances of touring. The push of my friend, ridiculously cheap airfare, gut instinct, and desire to break free prompted me to book a round trip flight to Nashville.  I've never been soo grateful for having had done so. The wealth of distraction back home expedited the arrival of my journey. In all honesty, I felt the least bit prepared, but longed for the escape. 

All feelings of airport aggravation and exhaustion quickly were dismissed the moment Spencer arrived to pick me up from the airport. Into the car he helped me load my guitar and luggage, and we gave one another one big embrace hello. The southern humidity suctioning to my skin, the sun extending it's rays over the city skyline for it's final hour of the day; I felt a sense of familiarity and immediately felt at ease. It felt good to be back home. 

Some of my favorite moments in life are the ones that showed up ever most unexpectedly.  They are what define my travels, experiences, outlook and often are shared with perfect strangers.  It makes me wonder if naturally we set expectations for those who are closest to us that aren't meant to be met according to the Universe.Back home, there are certain expectations to live up to, but here, all I have to offer is myself entirely. Vulnerability can be a beautiful thing. I am in my element, I am alone, and in my palm, I contain the power to choose. My choices are what will navigate me through the experiences which ultimately determine my future. Being in a larger city, head on with some steep competition, and where I'm most susceptible to criticism, I Ironically feel more carefree and at ease. All outside pressure is eliminated beyond the pressure that I put on myself because I'm already feeding at the bottom. Coming from whatever angle, the only way I have to travel is up. 

Soaking in each waking moment, I'm left to choose wisely who, what, where, and how I want to spend my time.  It's liberating, and in ways, I've gained a new appreciation for myself because of it. I think of how much I've grown over the past years, and the many variations of myself that have come along the way in the process. Certain people bring out certain characteristics, some which I've even believed to have far surpassed. Being in Nashville reminds me of being in music school again. Perfect strangers we are, all a bit lonely and lost, but determined to make the most doing the one thing we know how to do best. The outreach of friendliness is incredible. It's like freshman orientation where everyone is looking to make friends and to find their voice in their new surroundings. Collectively we are a sea of gifted strangers who have been released into the wild. Our will and passion to better ourselves and further pursue our careers is what bonds us together. 

Thursday night I attended "Live on The Green" concert series in the heart of Music City, standing among 20,000 Nashville residents and visitors. To my delight, my new favorite band "The Head and the Heart" were the headliners, which was coincidental as I had seen them a few months prior to my trip as openers for "Death Cab for Cutie"  in NY. I attended with my friend Brendan and various others whom were friends of friends. 

The music, the all round energy, the scenery, the harmonious crowd singing back to the band, THE BAND; I never felt sooo inspired in my life. For the very first time I even considered becoming a groupie. Everyone in the band played a significant role, and soo much heart poured into the music and their energy on stage. My mouth watered, craving a piece of the band's euphoria. I could only imagine how they must've felt on stage. I hope that some day my music can have such an impact as theirs had on me that night.

Closer and closer to the stage Brendan and I moseyed up as any open spaces became available. I shut my eyes to listen, still in my own darkness, left to feel and to allow my body to react accordingly. The energy was powerful and uplifting, and I couldn't relax my face from grinning. It was in that moment that I was among perfect strangers; sharing a beautiful moment, belly up, floating on the waves of sound. Soul meeting souls, and our differences, all but the same. A bonding connection; the bass, my beating pulse. It felt good to feel alive again. 


"I'll tell you one thing

We aint gonna change much

The sun still rises

 even with the pain." - The Head and the Heart

Cardboard boxes and rubbermaid bins; labeled and sealed, storing only minimal possessions I do not wish to discard and neglect. The home, just a barren shell of what was and the potential that could never be reached. I'm divided in two; one part empowered and anticipating the next chapter, to the second part, crawled in a fetal ball of devastation. My middle ground? Confusion. I've chosen to trade in everything for nothing. I've chosen to leap with the possibility of landing into a sink hole. In many ways, I feel happier, confident, and ready to take on the world. In many other ways I feel broken and conflicted. I am living proof of conflict in its truest state. 

One week ago I volunteered for a second year at Girls Rock Camp. Girls Rock Camp is a week long program with the mission of empowering young female talent. Led by a strong group of female artists like myself, voluntarily it is our job to instill confidence, and provide guidance to young girls interested in pursuing a future enriched by music. Throughout the course of the week I led and instructed vocal lessons, songwriting and music business workshops to the children. The children put together bands, construct an original song, create merchandise and show flyers leading up to their showcase at the end of the week, which they perform in front of an auditorium full of encouragers. It is such an incredible program, and I feel very honored to take part in it. Girls Rock Camp tugs on my heart strings in a way that nothing else does. It provided me with the sense of pride and positivity that I needed in order to know that I am appreciated, valued, and capable of having an impact on someone that is beyond destructive. Last year, the end of Girls Rock camp was the beginning of my journey abroad down south; my first lengthy tour baring musical significance, self realization, and the need for change. Ultimately, it was the trip that led me to my decision and to where I stand today.

Exhausted from a week of volunteering, shows, events and travels; Sunday I effortlessly slept to nearly one in the afternoon. Later that evening, I returned back to my former house to move more belongings, to find myself greeted and confronted with the eleven and a half years of my life that I've chosen to walk away from. I can't help but think about how different the holidays will be this year.  

Later that evening, I met a friend to go see the brand new James Brown movie, to find myself walking out feeling inspired, impressed, and motivated to continue my life long hustle in the music business. As we're discussing the movie on the way back home, I soon found myself caught in the distraction of radio commercial for Charisma Jewelers in the background. My reaction to the commercial "I freaking hate this commercial" generates a chuckle and a "How come?" from my friend. 

I thought to myself for a minute. When did i become so jaded? Why do I so passionately detest this commercial? Is it all just a sales pitch for a promise that has no guarantee? Look at me, what am I, what have I become? What is IT that I even want? For soo many years, I had the answers to all my own questions, but now it seems like I'm lost in this hollow shell, clueless, just getting by going through the motions of my daily routines. 

Every so often, life will present us with challenges which will raise a number of questions, leaving the biggest question "Who am I, and what is my purpose?" Since I was a toddler I've always known my path in life would be artistically driven. Up until my early to mid twenties, I ran my life according to tradition, living up to what's acceptable by society's standards. I excelled in school, I graduated college on time, I moved out on my own, I got married, together we purchased a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood, my husband had a great career, I had a budding career, and we shared two beautiful dogs. We broke the pattern of tradition by not having children of our own, which now, given our circumstances,  has proven to be God sent. 

On the surface, I had everything. Internally, I felt hollow. Now don't get me wrong, it's nice to have nice things, and I am extremely grateful to have had the opportunity to even know what it was like to have lived a such a life. However, what works for most, I've found to not work for me. I've come to the realization, that my personal fulfillment doesn't derive from tradition.  "Less" in many ways means "more" to me. 

What is important to me is how all those things on the surface translate to the love  that's comprised inside. Was I miserable? No. Was I happy? No. Do I feel I deserve more? Yes. Do I feel I have much more to give than my current situation allowed me to give? Yes. So THERE it is. Sure I could settle for all the things on the surface, but for what? Settle because I worried about breaking someone's heart, or settle because I worried I'd have to start all over, or remain out of comfort because after all "it could be worse." Then what? Have kids? Sounds reasonable. 

TRADITION vs. COMFORT

Tradition comes in various forms. The formality of tradition is what I find to be disturbing. Living in a free country we still are subjected to certain degrees of restraint according to what is accepted by society's standards. Congress is a perfect example which our own people are divided based on power, morality and stature. Under the same sky we breathe, institutionalized by elected officials who's morality and hypocrisy delegates the standards in which we're expected to abide by.

No question times are changing and that we've evolved, but many of these same expectations still remain. 

What is important to me, never has been what is on the surface. I don't want to lead a life based on an illusion of happiness. I want a life enriched with passion, creativity, travel, experience, love and friendship. That is the fulfillment which I am seeking, and I'd love to share that with someone who is seeking the same. It's like being in a desert and having a mirage of a castle where you are pampered to all things luxurious, just to find that it'll disintegrate within one touch.

In the desert I stand with dust in my face, beads of sweat pouring down my body, thirsty and unsure which way to lead a trail of footprints. I've traded in everything for nothing, but my will to survive remains. 

Craving direction, strength and sanity, I've spent the past few weeks surrounding myself with those closest to my heart. A recent series of gatherings with friends from both my former and present life, has triggered a number of conversations which all began with the same topic, and resolved with various, valuable and considerable ending points. Being creatively blessed has fortunately alleviated the need to seek the advice of others as often as the average person may choose to. I've chosen to channel my emotions artistically, in fear that I'll plague those I love with my own internal woes.  For the first time in my life I can't consider myself strong enough to just rely on my creativity. I feel extremely needy, and I'm finding that the only way to cope and reason is to talk out loud and candidly; admitting to myself, and those closest to me a year's worth of unspoken truths. It's the most human I've felt in a long time. 

The art of psychology stems from addressing all the hard questions which are presented in life. As humans, our morals and perception of what is right and what is wrong will vary. Presented in various forms, we are an indubitably flawed species influenced by our upbringings, surroundings, and culture. Our fear of the unknown, comfortability, and guilt often override our need to seek the fulfillment we truly desire. What weighs heavy on our conscious is the lack of pride stemmed by worry, secrecy and sins. 

Inevitably, some things are beyond our control. I find that there are two parts to every struggle; 1) The adversity  and 2) identifying how to overcome it. Growing up, being tested would give me extreme anxiety. Somethings never change. However, what I recognize now that I didn't recognize in the past is the power of CHOICE. With choice stems a willingness for change, and COURAGE necessary to act upon your decisions. 

Here's a fun fact: Three-banded Armadillo's inhabit Brazil and are one among twenty species of Armadillo's that can roll into a ball. They have poor vision, walk on their hind legs leaving only their front claws to touch the ground (Armadillo stilettos?) typically live in solitary, and bare a protective shell which in the event they are threatened by a strong jawed predator, they are spared being chewed or torn apart. 

In my prime moment of vulnerability I washed off all my makeup and looked myself square in the swollen, glossy eyes of my reflection. One hundred percent broken, I cried with deep gasps of sorrow, and then cried harder a second time over how pitiful I looked, ashamed that the person veering back was me. Confronting myself in the mirror was among one of my greatest challenges. There it was, clear as day, unhappiness pouring out of my sockets. Raw, ugly, emotion descended from disappointment and failure. In my whole "Who the hell do you think you are?" moment with myself,  I actually felt physically weak and hollow. That was two weeks ago. Last week I found myself emotionless, but able to think a bit more with clarity. Sometimes we need to humanely experience a moment of weakness in order to fully breathe in and exhale a full breath without a quiver.

I am a freaking Armadillo. 

High heeled with poor vision, to one degree living solitary, baring a protective shell protecting what is fragile inside. Down the mountain I've tumbled, now faced with the decision to remain put or climb back to the top. Divulged in sadness, but passionate for change. Bruised and wounded, the scars will eventually fade.  I'm eager to climb back to the top, and even more eager to venture to the side of the mountain I haven't yet explored. 

Apparently, even the brave can lack courage.  I believe that our primary responsibility should be to protect and to value the one life which we've been rewarded.  Making bold choices and periodically backtracking to reroute and redefine are all just a part of the process. May happiness guide and may you be granted the strength to proceed along the path which you desire. 

From the mountains of Birmingham, Alabama and through the prairies of Mississippi, I made my way two hundred and thirty eight miles to the home of Elvis, Gospel, and Blues. 

With a heavily preoccupied mind and adrenaline on overdrive, all feelings of exhaustion were quickly disregarded the moment of my arrival. Safely, I parked my car in a lot just two short city blocks shy of the heart of Memphis, and began treading my way up to historic Beale Street. At four in the evening, I only begun to taste the excitement that was yet to be experienced at a far later hour. I stood aside W.C Handy's home, mouth agape, outward projecting butterflies as music filled my ears and as I peered down three blocks of night clubs and restaurants. I hadn't even made it ten feet off of Beale before my attention was diverted to a band playing in W.C Handy Park. Catching only part of their last song before break, the  lead singer hopped off stage before me, introducing himself to me as Chick. I'm not sure whether it was the blue and white polka dotted dress, oversized  pink flower, or pink heart shaped shades that caught his attention, but immediately he begun questioning where I was from.

Far less exotic my accent revealed, I explained that I was a musician traveling from New York. Into my obnoxiously oversized silver bag I rummaged, and successfully pulled out a cd.

Peering down, and reciting my name as he read; "Well, Miss Amanda Ashley, I knew there was something special about you."

I smiled, and at his request, briefly begun to inform him of my journey thus far leading up to the moments which we were encountering. I politely declined his invitation to make his performance at Jerry Lewis's place up the road due to the conflict in timing in regards to my performance that evening. I obliged to give an honest attempt to make their  performance if time permitted, but to be there later regardless to meet for a drink afterwards.

Leaving Chick and the boys behind only temporary, I proceeded to explore Beale Street with perked ears, and a palpitating heart. The sweet aroma of Southern barbecue entered my nostrils and were exhaled from a watery mouth. A few steps, a snapshot, another few steps, another snapshot. My eyes couldn't decide where to focus. I carried on like this for about twenty minutes, until my attention was diverted to a five dollar, thirty two ounce beer stand. Did I mention you could buy a drink anywhere and wander the streets without getting arrested? OH, and INCREDIBLE, live music, from EVERY, direction.  Life suddenly tasted like the box of chocolates that rested on Forrest Gump's lap. I was in Memphis forty five minutes long enough to know that what I felt inside was genuine. I had only fallen in love twice before then. 

Departing Beale Street, I made my way to Broadway to set up for my first performance at Jack Magoo's. Outdoors I was directed to assemble my equipment where a rather significant number of individuals were enjoying one another's company and an early start to their weekend. 

For three and a half hours I performed to a receptive and welcoming crowd of Memphians, some whom which sung along and danced, and others which went out of their way to compliment me upon my break. Pleased with the outcome of my first performance in Memphis, I packed my equipment and loaded it into my car.  As I finished my last drink and got paid out at the bar, I found myself engaged in conversation with the jocular bartender and drummer by trade. Mentioning Nashville and couch surfing in the same sentence in regards to my next destination, the bartender began dialing his phone and held one finger up to silence me mid-sentence:

"Hello Marie, It's Keith. I am bartending at Jack Magoo's, and tonight's performer is a lovely, young lady named, Ashley….er, Amanda, and she is sitting right before me as we speak. Anyway, she is a singer-songwriter from New York, touring musician, and is a total sweetheart. Her next stop along the way is Nashville and she is in need of a place to crash for a week… do you think you can put her up? Okay. You are just  going to LOVE her. OH, and she's cute too! Alright, no problem….. four o'clock? I'll let her know. Love you babyyyy, ba-bye." 

Our eyes made contact as he looked up at me and replied, "You have a place to stay while you are in Nashville! You are just going to adore Marie, and she is  going to eat you up with a spoon. She's a VERY good friend of mine…..talented, beautiful, and a TOTAL firecracker. Call her tomorrow between two and four to touch base with her." 

LIKE THAT, one of the most heartfelt connections among my ENTIRE journey was established. 

Keith wished me luck as I thanked and hugged him goodnight. To a much livelier Beale Street I backtracked, illuminated with neon signs, and swallowed whole by the pedestrians inhibiting the streets. Magnetized by the energy, my excitement reached an all time high. I arrived at Jerry Lewis's place, and made my way towards the back of the establishment, bumping into Chick, the lead singer from earlier, along the way. 

"Ahhh,  Amanda Ashley, I've been looking for you all night! Come, come with me. I want to introduce you to someone."

Disappointed but true to my prediction, I arrived too late to catch the remainder of the band's performance. Flattered and impressed that  I remained true to my word having had showed up regardless, Chick re-introduced his band members to me in addition to Greg King, a touring bass player and producer who was filling in for the evening's performance. Striking conversation only briefly, Greg and I spoke music, touring, and our aspirations before exchanging numbers and a CD. By two thirty in the morning, I had a text from Greg regarding the cd I had passed along to him.

The following morning I woke up with an agenda to explore, to experience a true authentic Southern meal, to work on my new song, and to perform a strong second performance leaving a lasting impression on Memphis. Enjoying the remainder of  my Saturday morning, I strolled Tom Lee park with coffee in hand, snapping pictures, enjoying the view. Around afternoon, I made my way to Kudzu's Bar and Grill to set up my equipment, and to meet Jerry, the owner,  whom which I had been in contact for months leading up to my arrival. Continuing our conversation initiated at the bar, Jerry and I found ourselves seated alongside two other unfamiliar gentlemen at Dejavu, a cajun/creole eatery offset of the inhabited stretch of downtown. We inhaled an outstanding authentic southern feast of okra sautéed in a tomato marinara, friend catfish, crawfish, fried plantains, bourdain, and corn bread. 

With a satisfied palate and full stomache we left Dejavu. By car, Jerry  graciously guided me through Memphis; narrating the history as we passed Graceland, Sun Studios, Stax Records, the Lorraine hotel, and ending in the South Main Arts District at Ernestine and Hazel's. With a cold Amstel in each of our hands I marveled as I walked through the charmingly dilapidated, dimly lit, grandiose dive bar, with walls crumbling with plaster.  Home of the Soul Burger, once a Pharmacy and former brothel, also filming destination for many contemporary movie scenes such as "Elizabethtown" and "21 Grams," the place oozed with history.  As we ascended the slanted stairway,  decades of cigarettes, beers and other unsavory delicacies scented the stark former bedrooms. Enraptured in all it's character, I ran my fingers along the keys of an old, out of tune piano in one room. In another room rested an original claw foot tub, and aged furniture occupied the empty space in additional rooms. Memorabilia from past movies, pictures, and write ups filled the downstairs wall space. The place clearly never had undergone any renovations, making it uniquely a beautiful sight.

Back to Kudzu's we returned around four. Jerry ever hospitably poured me my first taste of Apple Pie Moonshine to top off my southern experience, and I phoned my worried mother to assure her that I was still breathing. Without true agenda, a beautiful evening ahead, and an unoccupied patio in the back, I remained at Kudzu's, working out the lyrical content for the song which I had been working on throughout  my short stints in Atlanta and Birmingham. Taking in the silence, swallowing my emotions and rinsing it with moonshine,  the lyrics easily begun to flow. It felt very natural breathing in Memphis, and for the first time I was allowing myself to admit things that I wasn't able to admit before.

Buzzed on moonshine and with my song near completion, I was more anxious than ever to hit the stage. Song by song the tables began to fill, to soon find myself entertaining a room full of music admirers.  Voicing my soul I executed an hours worth of originals, ending with a strong finish and an applause of approval. Yubu and the Africans followed my performance, for whom which I hung around to listen and admire. An approximated twelve person ensemble, I absorbed the sweet sounds of soul, gospel, blues and Reggae which filled the room. Taking in what were originally intended to be the remainder of my Memphis experience, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sadness. In my heart, I felt that I needed more time. 

The immediate regret that I felt for having had not planned a longer stay resulted in a one day extension. I called Greg King on my way back to the hotel notifying him of my decision, and to see if he was interested and available in meeting for some session work the following day. To my blessed advantage, Sunday was his day off.

I woke up the following morning in time to throw on a wrinkled article of clothing and to accumulate what was remaining of the continental breakfast stand, which wasn't much of anything. Downing one cup of orange juice, and a packet of instant oatmeal, I returned to my room with a cup of coffee and the will to finish writing the bridge of my new song. Confident that I composed my best song to date, I ran through it a few times before showering and getting ready for my session with Greg. 

I arrived at Greg's place with my guitar strapped on my back, excited to share with him what I had been working on. Slipping right into work mode, we wasted no time.  I played through the song multiple times, as we figured out the beats per minute, and a matching drum loop to work with. We begun tracking layers; recording guitar, keyboard, strings, B3 and bass. Our music chemistry was irrefutable. After a few hours of writing and recording all various components, we ran into software issues preventing us from furthering to lay down any vocal tracks. Frustrated, disappointed and hungry, we decided to break for dinner. Homemade southern cuisine cooked by the hands of Greg's talented room mate, we chatted over a full plate of home made southern delicacies  consisting of Barbecued ribs, corn bread, cow tail, and okra. 

Conversing with Greg was effortless. It felt as if we had known one another for years. We both agreed that our working relationship was one that had sincere potential to relish, and that we both wanted to continue working together despite the distance.

After dinner Greg played the tracks which he produced and envisioned my vocals on. Assured without hesitation, I told him I could write to it. Afterwards I directed Greg to my website, and my new video for original song "Tell Me a Lie." He began frantically dialing his phone.

Although we were unable to accomplish finishing the song we had put hours into, I departed having had gained an R&B band interested in backing me, a producer to exclusively work with, a musical tip on how to strengthen my guitar playing, additional recording experience, production knowledge, and a promise for work in the new year. Greg and I have been in contact every day since. 

I solemnly turned in my room key to the hotel concierge at the front desk the following morning, and loaded up my car.  I met my Cuban friend George midtown for Cuban Coffee and a farewell lunch at eleven at Havana's Pilon. One authentic and plentiful cuban course of Ropas Vieja, arroz con pollo, habichuelas rojos, and plantainos was enough to fill me up for the entire day. Feeling right at home, it's authenticity reminded me of my Aunt Anita's homemade cooking. Two Cuban coffees quickly perked me up for the three hour drive ahead to Nashville. I hugged George goodbye, and promised him and the sweet, hospitable owners of Havana to be back again soon.

With a full box of left overs in my passenger seat, I headed east with faucet like tear ducts, bidding farewell to my third love.    

I'm blessed to write that this summer was beyond opportunistic. What I've experienced in the past three months has opened my heart and mind in ways I never thought possible. Falling right back into my New York schedule after a nineteen day musical journey makes it all feel like a beautiful dream that I wish I never woke from. 

 One week prior to touring I volunteered for Girls Rock Rochester, a music camp for young women between the ages of eight and sixteen. Patience and virtue were among the lessons learned. I feel very privileged to have been considered to work among a group of selfless, caring, passionate and talented women. Having the opportunity to mentor, inspire, and provide guidance to Rochester's youth and the world's future entertainers was an invaluable experience which I'll forever be grateful for having. It made me aware again of my humble beginnings as an aspiring youth with bountiful dreams, how far I've come, and how far I've still yet to go. Throughout the week I passed along my knowledge gained through my experiences as a performer and songwriter, passing along tips about having a commanding stage presence, being respectful to their music peers, singing from the soul, and writing from the heart. 

I realized in the moment as my vocal class and I pranced around the perimeter of a classroom with an unplugged microphone, singing and reaching out to a pretend audience;  that although my heart has matured, it still remains in the same place. Not much has changed, as I still am a young woman with fears and a longing to become someone or something beyond my miniature stature, only now carrying the weight that time, priority and age has piled along. On my last day of instruction, my girls all left my classroom with a warm hug, sunglasses and hair flowers for their Saturday showcase which I was regrettably unable to make due to my tour's departure.  The fortuitous nature of having a gift which positively serves multiple purposes is truly something that I am continually appreciative for. 

My time with Girls Rock Rochester put me on a natural high. Initially, timing was a stressor, as various commitments had seemed to be taking place all at once in the midst of touring preparation. My first music video was launched, I was trying to squeeze in quality time with my sister whom I was helping move ten years of her life from Miami back to New York, I had a wedding that I was preparing material for, a full week of nightly performances, lesson planning preparation, and was running every last errand in trying to get all promotional materials ready for my nineteen day long adventure to the music mecca of the world. Now looking back, I see that it wasn't bad timing at all. I believe that fate aligned these weeks with the purpose of showing me that there is an underlying beauty in conquering new territory, and in challenging yourself in ways you would not have otherwise. Needless to say, the fond memories and natural high made my six hour departure to the nation's Capital, and first touring destination a pleasant ride.

With a car packed full of equipment, and literally all negative space occupied with necessary belongings, I departed Rochester in the early morning, and began making my way to the beautiful city of Washington D.C.  Spitting distance from Dupont Circle, like a mobile Mannequin, I stood in the window of Black Fox Lounge, entertaining a full house of drinkers and diners.  Looking around the room, I found myself entertaining my past;  friends from childhood, young adulthood, and those present in my very beginnings as a budding musician. It was an omen for what was yet to be experienced in the eighteen days to follow, and was one of my best performances. To my friend's home, and resting place for the evening I drove the quieted city streets of the District in the wake of a new day. Passing the iridescent historical monuments, I couldn't help myself from gloating over the past evening's performance, and the anticipation of all that lay ahead in the upcoming days. This was really happening. I had spent months plotting, booking and daydreaming about this adventure, and now it all finally was coming to life. 

I slept in until about ten the following morning, downing three cups of coffee and sharing breakfast with my friends Jeremy and Carla before leaving at noon to make my way to Virginia Beach for my second show later that evening in Chesapeake. Heavy Virginia traffic made it seem like a never ending ride from hell. Arriving two and a half hours later than my original ETA, I arrived at the hands of friends Fawn and Katie,  whom instantly substituted happiness and relief for the nearly five hours of stress and aggravation. 

Within moments our friendship fell back into place as if no absence between us ever existed. As always with true friends, the record never skips. Within two hours we made our way to Chesapeake, where a vacant stage awaited occupancy, and where I was able to gain a few extra fans. Later that evening, we headed to Rainbow Cactus Company for a drag show and to cap our evening with fun and drinks. We awoke the following morning to a clouded sky which visually threatened, but followed with little action. An easy morning, we relaxed until mid-afternoon entertaining ourselves with laughter, chatter, and youtube videos. Later we found ourselves trekking the Virginia Beach boardwalk, admiring the scenic view of the tourist haven, and soon after filled our tanks with the familiar cuisine of Carrabba's Italian Grill.

As we awaited the arrival of our dinner, I gazed around at the decor surrounding us, at Fawn and Katie, and then at myself through the reflection of my polished martini glass. Leaving Carrabba's is what catapulted my desire to pursue the very musical aspirations which had made this musical journey possible. Three out of six and a half years of my residency in Rochester, NY I hustled as a server, as head waitress, and server trainer at a Carrabba's Italian Grill. The time which I had worked at Carrabbas was a time which I was undergoing many transitions as a woman, and as a musician. The year before I was very unhappy, as I was having a hard time adjusting to my new environment, was post college,  and extremely frustrated with the fact that I was unable to land a credible job despite having a degree. Graduates school was eating away at my bank account, I was working at a tanning salon and waiting at a sports bar with a catty staff and trashy clientele. I was having a hard time finding friends of my own whom which were trustworthy, I was away from my family, and I had no time to pour myself into the music which sanctioned my sanity. Along with a new job came many positive transitions. Happiness crept its way back into my life, as the friends I was making were those which bared a genuine demeanor, were fun to be around, and were supportive of one another's integral mission beyond the working atmosphere. Today, these are the people I still remain in contact with regardless of distance and the dispersed directions life has taken us. Those are the same people whom I am always happy to see, and grateful to still have as a part of my life. They are an extension of who I am, and are the people who infinitely will have my love, respect and support just as they have for me. The Virginia Beach Carrabba's was like viewing a mirrored image,  where all the lettering is backwards but is still the same. My friends of four and a half years standing before me, to one another we are mirrored images, still remaining true to our core being and remain in similar places, but having had advanced and matured.

From Virginia Beach to Myrtle Beach I again made my way through the intensity of stop and go traffic, and random torrential bursts of rain. I arrived at the home of new friend and fellow Couchsurfing host Evan, who instantly welcomed me into his musical bachelor pad. Also a touring musician, piano player and vocalist, Evan and I spent the first hour and a half getting to know one another talking music and sharing our philosophies over hot tea. We parted ways as he had a performance to setup for, and I had a mission to hop around and perform at various open mics for the evening. My original plan to busk the beach was benched due to the inclement weather. Shopping center after shopping center, restaurant after restaurant, I drove forty minutes to my first destination, Wet Willies, to be greeted by a man named Johnny Ringo. A few people and a free hot dog buffet, I brought in my guitar to serenade a handful of originals to a small crowd of drinkers and musicians.  Four songs, one hot dog, and one vodka and soda later I had headed off twenty minutes back in the opposite direction to Pine Lakes Tavern for a jam which sang an entirely different tune. A full stage of sophisticated musicians, I signed my name on the list, sat and listened to the house band in excitement, anticipating my turn. Soon I found myself in the company and lost in conversation with the house guitar player. A young college student he was, with matured chops, keen musical sensibility, who was driven and passionate with a kind soul. Rochester open jam co-host and best friend Beau Ryan along with friend Brian entered the establishment just in time to chime in on conversation and to join me on stage. Beau and Brian were on an non-music related journey of their own which our individual agenda's were arranged so that we could meet and spend a brief portion of one another's trip in each other's company. Together, accompanied by our new friend on guitar, and an in house drummer, we rocked out a few originals and some Jackson Five gaining the attention of the establishment's patrons.  Afterwards, Beau, Brian, myself, and Zach headed to Broadway on the Beach to meet our Couchsurfing host Evan, and to catch the end of his performance at a Dueling Piano bar and tourist attraction, Crocodile Rocks. We followed Evan upon his exit back to his musical palace, chatted till our eye lids fell heavy, and headed to bed for a few hours before having to again wake and hit the road for our following destination. 

A musical vagabond I became, skipping from city to city, with my hair tightly tied back, flower blowing, and with windows entirely rolled down. I made my way from Myrtle Beach to Georgia with one hand on the steering wheel, and arm rested on my driver's side window shield. The hot southern sun beating down on the concrete roadway, I cruised at seventy five to the beautiful city of Atlanta. Plummeting gas prices had me doing double takes, and for the first time in my life I felt eager to fill my tank. At around two thirty in the afternoon I arrived to the very lavish Omni Hotel where I splurged and reserved a room for Beau, Brian and I to split and spend our last evening together. The hotel was in the center of downtown, across from Olympic Park, and connected to CNN's headquarters. Most attractions were in walking distance, making it very convenient to sightsee and accomplish multiple tasks in the brief time that I was present. Within the very early moments of my arrival the Southern hospitality was ever most evident. I have to admit that the general well mannered, kind nature of people in the South was at first overwhelming. The difference between people in the North and people in the South is not that people aren't kind in the North, but that they are typically kind with apprehension, or kind because they expect something in return. In my experience in the South, kindness is a way of living. People take you in like family, are eager to assist and welcome you into their way of life. I settled into my room, showered quickly, and made my way to the south tower of the Omni building to explore the CNN Global Headquarters. I had visited when I was much younger with my mother, but like many of the destinations I was set out to conquer, having an adult perspective and seeing things with my own two eyes made just about every place I visited a new experience. I am an avid CNN viewer, so it was really interesting and exciting for me to again witness first hand where the filming takes place, the control rooms, and where some of my favorite anchor personalities broadcast from. Afterwards, I stepped outdoors and allowed my ears to lead me to Olympic Park, where I attended a free R&B concert for about an hour. Shortly after the Whitney Houston melody, I exited, and began meandering the city streets aimlessly, eventually stumbling upon the Underground Mall and shopping center. I made my way back to the hotel to meet Beau and Brian, where we began to arrange dinner plans, and headed in the direction of a local, affordably priced sports bar and restaurant. Over indulged with various conversation, food and drink, we aimlessly walked to burn off calories, and soon found ourselves at the foot of the city's new, illuminated, gigantic Ferris Wheel, otherwise known as  the "Wheel of Excellence." Into our little vessel we welcomed ourselves aboard, and were raised above the city for a serene, aerial glimpse of Atlanta at night. The city lights reflecting in each of our cornea's, we sat back taking in a moment which was sure to end too quickly. Riding the Ferris Wheel made me think of the various cycles we transition between, and during times of confusion, how the experiences we allow ourselves to be subjected to eventually bring the answers full circle. 

We made one last stop at a local bar before heading back to our room around midnight, where a full bottle of Iceberg Vodka awaited our consumption. What seemed like a celebratory act of ingeniousness, I deeply regretted the following morning as my insides curdled and poured into the hotel toilet. We extended our afternoon checkout by three hours to enjoy a morning by the pool. While the boys did work on their computer, I began composing the framework of one of my best songs written to date. Two hours later we all made our way back to the room to pack our belongings, checkout, and pack up our cars, before hitting the food court. I purchased french fries, which made me too sick to look at. In a to-go container I took them along with me, remaining untouched until the early evening.

At three o'clock we put our arms around one another and wished each other safety as we parted ways to our next destination. My drive to Birmingham, Alabama was equally the most breathtaking, and painful trip of my life.  The  radiant blue skies, the way the clouds hung above the windy roads, and distant Appalachians made it seem like I was driving in a painting. My admiration for the beauty around me was my only saving grace in distracting me from the throbbing head and urge to vomit. I arrived just a few miles east of my evening's show destination, happy to find out that I gained an hour in time along with the distance between Atlanta and Birmingham. I found a Holiday Inn along the way, and checked myself in for the evening.  I was able to squeeze in a half hour of relaxation, before finally eating those french fries, showering and freshening up for seven o'clock show at City Vineyard. By the time I arrived to set up for my performance, I was feeling about ninety percent better and ready to rock.  I had never been to Birmingham before and didn't really know what to expect. The bright green dress and pink flower were a dead giveaway that I was a visitor. Initially I was weary, as I wasn't quite sure how the people of Birmingham would perceive a Yankee like myself, from New York.  The staff and patrons of City Vineyard were ever so warm, welcoming and hospitable. After my performance I was invited to share wine and conversation with my new southern friends. On my way back to the hotel I stopped off at  a Waffle House to eat my first meal of the day. Every where you turn in the south there is a Waffle House. Curiosity had the best of me. I sat at the breakfast bar, and chatted with the staff whom I ordered with to bring me the most southern item on the menu. Naturally it was fried everything, and naturally all plans of eating relatively healthy on this trip were null and voided. I returned to my hotel room to wash up, and to rest my eyes for the evening.  

I emerged from bed the following morning with just enough time to reap the benefits of my hotel stay by raiding the complimentary breakfast bar; grabbing coffee, juice and stealing two bagels to bring along with me on the day's ride to Memphis, TN. Being on the road, you take advantage of whatever opportunities there are to have free food. It's like being in college again, and attending all the unnecessary club meetings and town happy hours for the free pizza. Check-out time was at eleven. I also learned that you can buy yourself another half hour to forty five minutes as long as the maid hasn't come knocking. If you still aren't ready when the maid DOES coming knocking, you can still buy enough time for them to clean the next room before they come back to yours. Making the most out of my stay, I showered quickly, got dressed, packed my belongings, and began working on the song that I started writing the previous day poolside, in Atlanta.

By noon, my car was packed and I was on the road again, anxious to get to my next destination. These next two stops were the focal point of this trip. Tennessee, true to my prediction, was a mind blowing experience which taught me many valuable lessons. 

Fireworks: Symbolic for all things triumphant and tragic. Pretty and exciting to watch,  but they can also be potentially dangerous if you get to close or if one lands in your path. 

Overloaded in preparation for my tour to Nashville, an upcoming video shoot, booking for the winter and fall, recording, teaching, and nightly performances; today I sit home with the intent of relaxing and remaining close to my lover.

The amount of work which has presented itself is baffling. Soo many exciting opportunities lay before me, I feel the strongest I've ever felt as a performer, and I feel I have my business securely locked down. This is everything I've strived to have, this is exactly what I wanted. 

Unfortunately as one whole half of my life is lifted, the other half steadily declines. My life divided in two has resurfaced my anxiety, and deprived me of the sleep my body requires. As I maneuver through the motions, I find myself struggling to save all that's meaningful, and buying my time with what I know will potentially crash and engulf in flames. 

Even with a tremendous amount of love, and support behind me, I find myself frequently traveling alone in all walks of life. The truth is, I can't rely on ANYONE. Until someone proves me wrong (which I'm very open to accepting), until someone walks with me full speed, I feel I have to take measures into my own two hands. 

In this business, you either hustle to make it happen, or you sit there dream, and watch as your hair loses pigmentation, settling, and regretting that you didn't do more. I refuse to have that fate, as I feel I'm entitled to achieve all that I ultimately desire.  I hustle because i love to see the fruits of my labor blossom.  The results are what makes me feel proud, validated, purposeful, and worthy. I'm going to take all the risks I need to take. I have my eye on the prize, and even if it's just for a lick, I want to experience its taste. 

Music IS who I am, and I can't change that. It's my driving force in life, it's my passion, my business, my purpose, my message, my sanity, my muse, my hobby, my happiness, my full heart and soul. How can I compromise the one element of my life which occupies and encompasses so many factors into who I am as a human being? How can I convince someone to love me for me, when this is who I am? Do I really need to change, and if so,  how much of this can I REALISTICALLY change?  I'm constantly fighting a losing battle. My only saving grace is to remain attentive to what's important, to who is important, and to try my damned hardest at making this work to the best of my ability.

This trip to Nashville is going to change me, I know it. How, and what realizations it will bring me can shift in two entirely different directions. I'm anticipating the lessons which await me, seeking resolution in what has proven to be life's most challenging and complicated of equations. 

As colorful balls of fire crackle and color the night sky, I will watch in silence taking in the pure moments of normalcy, often forgotten and over looked.

INGREDIENTS:
(5) Cups of love
(1) Amazing Family (Can be substituted for friends who are like family)
(1) handful of genuine friends
(10) Cups of determination and drive
(1) Grand Plan
(5) Realistic, obtainable, yet challenging goals (Short term and long term) 
(5) Cups of YOU time
(10) Cups of proper time management


DIRECTIONS:
Live your best life daily, make the most of what you have, take advantage of life's simple pleasures, surround yourself with those who believe and see you for all the incredible person you are, yet have difficulty in seeing for yourself. Mix evenly, enjoy. 
********************************************************************************************** 
A rejuvenated population of Rochester folk simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief as the colder days seem fewer, and as the flowers begin to bloom. Colorful tulips color a neighborhood, reactivated in excitement and anticipation of the upcoming change in season.

Periodically I re-route, taking a step back and forward again in a slightly different direction. I did this back in November, when I vowed to myself that I would  stop contaminating my head with reality television, and replaced my "background noise" with something educational. Motivation prompted by the heated temperature  reinstated my love/hate relationship with the treadmill and all things involving being physically fit. This week while tying my running shoes, I decided to challenge myself physically outdoors, in the company of my loving dogs, as it seemed logical to create a routine which would benefit us as a family. Wednesday I went hiking with a good friend at Durand Eastman Park where we enjoyed fresh fruit, miles of quality conversation, and nature's true beauty. Although it's only been a week, I already feel happier and healthier for various reasons beyond the physical aspect of it all. 

As I forever am multi tasking my way through my every day routines, it has become increasingly easy to dismiss and overlook some of life's simple and most pleasurable moments. Disguised in simplicity are the boldest of underlined statements. For what was just intended to be a simple, beautiful stroll throughout my neighborhood,  triggered an epiphany, and pulled my perspective into focus.

Divine truth and lessons from the world's ever occurring tragedies taught me to value and accept life for what it is NOW. What happens in one moment won't necessarily determine what can potentially happen in the next.  The important thing to remember is that there are no short cuts in life, and that every so often an old road needs new pavement. Every step I take, I am paving a road to my future. I am living in the now by absorbing and applying any newfound knowledge to my foundation. Inevitably the road will have it's imperfections, characterized by all phases of its journey. 

Planning too far ahead can become the peanut butter in the mouse trap at the end of a maze. There are multiple paths to the ultimate goal, and your senses are heightened by your desire to taste what can potentially be more painful than fulfilling. As sure as I am about sooo many things, a part of me is still very unsure as to what it is that I ultimately want for myself. I can see myself being successful in more than one area, but which area I'd like to zone in on I'm unsure of. Planning too far ahead leaves me at risk of facing detours and having to deal with stressful setbacks which can in turn become jading and disheartening. To be put under such straining circumstances will put my heart at risk, and I refuse to be put into any situation which will make me lose focus and redefine what music truly means to me.

We are just as much in control of our lives as we are out of control. Nothing is guaranteed, so it is important to me that I remain challenged and constantly pushing my boundaries. If my life were to fall short due to some unforeseen circumstance, I'd want my spirit to peacefully ascend  knowing that I made the most out of my time, that I accomplished something in my time present,  that I appreciated nature, and surrounded myself with the love and affection of those whom I appreciate and admire most. 

Professionally and personally, I could never understand the people who "say" that they will do things and never follow through with their plans. To me, it takes more energy to lie and to think about doing something that could just be done and appreciated. I hope that my history will prevail that I was a woman of her word, passionate and dedicated to her causes in life, music and beyond.  Everything I've ever done, everything I push myself to do, is done with purpose. The people I decide to divide my time between, those whom I let in a little closer and make time for are an extension of who i am and the better person I am striving to become. 

What I AM sure of is that I don't EVER want something to happen to someone I love, and for me to have to sit in mourning regretting not having had given more of myself to that person in recent time because I allowed myself to be consumed by my every day routine. What I AM sure of is that I don't ever want to look back thirty years from now disappointed that I didn't follow through with my heart and desires, because I deprived myself the chance that I deserve. 

Happiness is a choice, as well as a way of living. Be candid with yourself. Take note of your short comings, keep positive,  and figure out a way to work towards your cause and purpose. A positive change in attitude will positively have an effect on all areas of your life. Suddenly you'll find yourself surrounded in good company, in better situations, Don't ever settle for less than you deserve, know your limitations, but don't be afraid to push your boundaries. Be good to your life, and eventually you'll find yourself on a path to success.