Giving It All You've Got

Music is a long and exhausting road. I was four years old the first time I performed. I clearly remember being terrified to step on stage, in front of all those people. It wasn’t until the music started playing and the other kids started singing that something inside of me took over and forced me onto that stage. The second I opened my mouth, nervous as could be, the rest of the world just seemed to slip away. It was at that very moment my entire future was decided for me. I’d found a place of my own, better than any toy or imaginary scenario my little mind could create. From then on, music drove me.

I was never like my peers. Never quite fit in, always stood out no matter how hard I tried to blend in with the crowd. When other kids were focused on school work, social lives and dating I was finding any outlet I could to express my “artistic side”. I later realized there was no side; all of me was my artistic side. School choir, community choir, school and community theater, musicals, talent shows, poetry readings, speech and essay contests, vocal coaching, you name it. If music or art was there, you could count me in.

It’s never been about the attention. In fact, I’ve still got my fair share of problems with the spotlight and I still experience stage fright from time to time. But it’s the fear, the nerves, the rush that drive me. When I’m singing, it’s like all is right with the world. My heart is in the right place and everything around me quickly dissolves into a blur.

There are people in this life, however, that can’t seem to comprehend the way the minds and hearts of artists work. They lack the ability to grasp why we’re so connected to what we’re doing. I am convinced that artists are wired a bit differently from the average human being. There’s a feeling that creating gives us that even the best lyricist can’t fully describe. We view the world in a way that even the most incredible painter couldn’t lay out on canvas; that even the best photographer couldn’t capture on film. We cannot simply shake our overwhelming and constant desire to create. Trying to lead a “normal” or “average” life is like sentencing an artist to ten consecutive years of Chinese water torture.

You cannot ask an artist to forsake their calling. You will never win the battle because our crafts are always number one in our hearts.

They call us dreamers; we’re the dream. They tell us we can’t; we prove them wrong. They call us crazy; we say crazy makes for better art. We use all the wrong turns in our lives to take us down the right road, the road that’s been calling our names since birth. Every heartbreak, every painful memory, every scar becomes a song, a picture, a painting, a poem. Each and every person that told us we were foolish is another log thrown onto the fire to keep us warm and keep us going. Consider each negative word gasoline you’re using to fuel our fires. We are the believers, we are the few with hope, we are the future. You only try to keep us down because you envy the fact that we’ve got something your money can’t buy you. That’s right, you can work your 9-5 and you can make that corporate paycheck, but all your money can’t buy you ambition.

I consider myself a business woman as well as an artist. I work hard for what I want, and I’ve laid a lifetime of groundwork for my career. I built a solid foundation from nothing and when everyone snickered at me I just kept building. Each achievement, big and small, is celebrated. Being successful in music has never been a “dream” to me, it’s a reality that I can make happen with the right amount of work. Why are some people so quick to tear others down because their goals in life stray from the “norm”? Who the hell ever decided what was “normal” anyway? Newsflash: There is no such thing as normal. Much like beauty, normalcy is in the eye of the beholder. To me, working a job that I hate just to please other people isn’t normal. Hating my job, my pathetic paycheck and everyone around me is not normal. Who decided that women of a certain age needed to be married with kids to have their lives deemed valuable? I’m sorry, but I don’t measure my self worth by society’s ridiculous and archaic standards; I create my own standards. I’m sorry that you weren’t raised to be an individual, to pursue whatever your heart was tied to, but that does not make you superior to those that don’t conform to your beliefs. Perhaps your life wouldn’t be so miserable if you had learned to live for yourself.

This is where it gets hard. This is where the struggle lies. The more successful you get, the more people start to hate and resent you for it. Likely because you’re doing something they feel they never could. I do believe that jealousy is the root of a lot of people’s hatred. There comes a point when you’re so dedicated to succeed and you’re suddenly expected to choose between what’s more important. Your “friends”, your “family”, they put you in situations that make you torn between them and your passion, your future. You find yourself having to prioritize and cut people out of your life. These are some of the toughest decisions that any artist ever has to make. You can keep these negative people in your life and continue to feel torn, or you can cut them out and continue on your way. I do not like being forced to choose between everything I’ve ever wanted and the people I love. In a perfect world, everyone would be on board and supportive and no decision would be required. I’m a selfish person by nature, yet I never really get to live for myself. It’s always what someone else wants from me, what I can do for them, what they want me to do. When do I get my chance to be happy? I find myself posing this question nearly every day. I get my foot through the door, I make strides, and suddenly I feel claws trying to drag me back down. Why can’t you just be happy for me and let me do what I was born to do? I realized one day, after years of being haunted by this, that I cannot possibly keep up with everyone else’s demands. I also realized that I’m all I’ve truly got and I’m the only person responsible for my own happiness. I refuse to be tied down, I refuse to be caged and I refuse to be belittled for following my heart. If you don’t like what I’m doing, get the hell out of my way and don’t you dare come asking for favors when I’ve made it.

I am an artist, this is my life and no one else is going to tell me how to live it. I’m giving it all I’ve got, whether you like it or not.You are surrounded by artists and you cannot escape us. We will carry on, leading the lives you wish you could and we’ll laugh all the way to the top. We’re not heartless, our hearts are not in the wrong place, you just don’t get access to them. If we seem cold, it’s because you made us that way with all of your negativity. At the end of the day, I’ve got a family comprised of some the best friends anyone could ask for. I’ve got more support than an Apple IT call center, baby.

Stop worrying about us and start worrying about yourselves, because nothing you can say will ever stop us.