Here Comes Your 19th Nervous Breakdown
Yesterday was bad.
It didn't start out that way. Yesterday (February 9, for those reading this at a later date) was gloriously sunny and warm for this time of year. Thanks to a connection at KINK, I had passes to a session with the Barenaked Ladies, a band I'd always liked in a casual way. I was curious about how they'd sound without their main lead singer, who'd parted ways from the band a couple of years ago. And, to be honest, I wanted certain people over there to see me and remember that I'm still kicking around town, and I'm available.
My sweet friend Ann joined me, and as we were led up to the KINK Live Lounge, I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach. I used to do this all the time, host sessions with bands. And now, I was a guest, just another face in the crowd. Still, I put on a brave face, and said my hellos to the wonderful people on the KINK staff that I've had the pleasure of meeting before. Ann and I settled in and the band took the stage. The BNL are known for their sense of humor, and they didn't disappoint on that level. But what people forget about them is that they're also seriously talented musicians. In the middle of their set, they played their new single, "You Run Away". It's not a funny lark like "One Week"; in fact, it's the polar opposite. You can hear it HERE.
When Ed Robertson sang the line, "I made a mess/who doesn't?/I did my best/But it wasn't enough", I lost it. I started crying. CRYING. In public. Because of a line in a song, and also because that part hit home, and it hit hard.
I made a mess of some professional relationships because of an unfortunate slip of the tongue, and I still am feeling badly about that. I am also still unemployed, which makes me feel like a failure in a lot of ways, and so right there in the KINK Live Lounge, my all-day Pity Party began.
After the session was over, we were offered a tour of the radio station. Now, I didn't really need it, having had been over there the week after I was fired (and thank you again, Dennis Constantine, for your kindness in that meeting). But Annie had never seen a radio station, and so I indulged her. I was fine until we were led into the booth, and there was my ex-competition, Steve Pringle, doing his thing. He's a really good guy, and we joked about how he'd had that gig long enough, he was ready to move on, and he should take an extended vacation so I could fill in, ha-ha.
That sealed it. The lump I'd been holding onto moved from my throat to my stomach and settled there. It was one of those moments we've probably all had, where everything is dark and everything you think has a finality to it that could become self-fulfilling prophecy: I will never be on the radio again.
I mean, I know I'll be on the radio again. I'm still all about KZME, and someday they hope to give me a show once it's live. So there's that. My "time off" has been occupied with some good things, like being able to volunteer with the Human Rights Campaign. But I walked out of KINK with a dark cloud over my head nonetheless.
Then I went over to Cupcake Jones, to support Live Wire Radio, and lo and behold, it was filled with so many fabulous and talented people. In the 45 minutes I ended up standing around (and drinking surprisingly tasty $8 "Champagne"), I encountered local writers, performers, and a notable filmmaker, all of whom I consider friends. And all of whom had a job, or a class, or a rehearsal to go to. The stone in my stomach twisted and burned, and yet I kept smiling. I adore these people and support their every effort, and it wasn't jealousy I was feeling. It was disappointment, in myself. Because the only place I had to go was home (with a pit stop at Whole Foods).
It just made me ache for something to finally happen already, DAMMIT.
Because, there's also the book thing. I've sent it off, and it's in the hands of a very capable agent, who is going to decide my fate. He will either say yes or no. He will assess my talent, he will decide if what I've written is something people other than my mom will want to read. So I'm waiting on that. And like the wise philosopher Tom Petty once wrote, the waiting is the hardest part.
I feel like I've been in this eternal holding pattern since May. And I don't like it. I'm frustrated, I'm anxious, I'm worried about my mortgage and my sons. Mostly, I'm exhausted from keeping up the front. I'm keeping it together, but barely. With every step forward (the agent, the performance I did last week), there is a yank backwards (dead car battery, broken dishwasher, boyfriend not getting the job we thought he was going to get). My new mantra has gone from "This too shall pass" to "Well, this is another funny story to tell Oprah", mainly just to make that joke.
But I'm tired of joking about my life. It's enough already. I can't keep putting up this front for much longer, kids. I burned my 2009 calendar, I'm trying to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative, but even an optimist is entitled to the occasional journey into the abyss.
If anyone needs me, I'll be smashing the crap out of tennis balls on Wii Fit.
It didn't start out that way. Yesterday (February 9, for those reading this at a later date) was gloriously sunny and warm for this time of year. Thanks to a connection at KINK, I had passes to a session with the Barenaked Ladies, a band I'd always liked in a casual way. I was curious about how they'd sound without their main lead singer, who'd parted ways from the band a couple of years ago. And, to be honest, I wanted certain people over there to see me and remember that I'm still kicking around town, and I'm available.
My sweet friend Ann joined me, and as we were led up to the KINK Live Lounge, I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach. I used to do this all the time, host sessions with bands. And now, I was a guest, just another face in the crowd. Still, I put on a brave face, and said my hellos to the wonderful people on the KINK staff that I've had the pleasure of meeting before. Ann and I settled in and the band took the stage. The BNL are known for their sense of humor, and they didn't disappoint on that level. But what people forget about them is that they're also seriously talented musicians. In the middle of their set, they played their new single, "You Run Away". It's not a funny lark like "One Week"; in fact, it's the polar opposite. You can hear it HERE.
When Ed Robertson sang the line, "I made a mess/who doesn't?/I did my best/But it wasn't enough", I lost it. I started crying. CRYING. In public. Because of a line in a song, and also because that part hit home, and it hit hard.
I made a mess of some professional relationships because of an unfortunate slip of the tongue, and I still am feeling badly about that. I am also still unemployed, which makes me feel like a failure in a lot of ways, and so right there in the KINK Live Lounge, my all-day Pity Party began.
After the session was over, we were offered a tour of the radio station. Now, I didn't really need it, having had been over there the week after I was fired (and thank you again, Dennis Constantine, for your kindness in that meeting). But Annie had never seen a radio station, and so I indulged her. I was fine until we were led into the booth, and there was my ex-competition, Steve Pringle, doing his thing. He's a really good guy, and we joked about how he'd had that gig long enough, he was ready to move on, and he should take an extended vacation so I could fill in, ha-ha.
That sealed it. The lump I'd been holding onto moved from my throat to my stomach and settled there. It was one of those moments we've probably all had, where everything is dark and everything you think has a finality to it that could become self-fulfilling prophecy: I will never be on the radio again.
I mean, I know I'll be on the radio again. I'm still all about KZME, and someday they hope to give me a show once it's live. So there's that. My "time off" has been occupied with some good things, like being able to volunteer with the Human Rights Campaign. But I walked out of KINK with a dark cloud over my head nonetheless.
Then I went over to Cupcake Jones, to support Live Wire Radio, and lo and behold, it was filled with so many fabulous and talented people. In the 45 minutes I ended up standing around (and drinking surprisingly tasty $8 "Champagne"), I encountered local writers, performers, and a notable filmmaker, all of whom I consider friends. And all of whom had a job, or a class, or a rehearsal to go to. The stone in my stomach twisted and burned, and yet I kept smiling. I adore these people and support their every effort, and it wasn't jealousy I was feeling. It was disappointment, in myself. Because the only place I had to go was home (with a pit stop at Whole Foods).
It just made me ache for something to finally happen already, DAMMIT.
Because, there's also the book thing. I've sent it off, and it's in the hands of a very capable agent, who is going to decide my fate. He will either say yes or no. He will assess my talent, he will decide if what I've written is something people other than my mom will want to read. So I'm waiting on that. And like the wise philosopher Tom Petty once wrote, the waiting is the hardest part.
I feel like I've been in this eternal holding pattern since May. And I don't like it. I'm frustrated, I'm anxious, I'm worried about my mortgage and my sons. Mostly, I'm exhausted from keeping up the front. I'm keeping it together, but barely. With every step forward (the agent, the performance I did last week), there is a yank backwards (dead car battery, broken dishwasher, boyfriend not getting the job we thought he was going to get). My new mantra has gone from "This too shall pass" to "Well, this is another funny story to tell Oprah", mainly just to make that joke.
But I'm tired of joking about my life. It's enough already. I can't keep putting up this front for much longer, kids. I burned my 2009 calendar, I'm trying to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative, but even an optimist is entitled to the occasional journey into the abyss.
If anyone needs me, I'll be smashing the crap out of tennis balls on Wii Fit.
hang in there Tara. You're a great talent and its bound to be recognized.
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To quote another song (the artist escapes me now), "hold your head uuuuuup" feel free to smile at either the song or my brain flatulence on the artist (or even my laziness to not look it up before sending...
Also, we LOVED your story at the Bagdad!
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Tara... I completely understand what you are saying. I lost my radio job over 2 and a half years ago after 15 some-odd years in the business. I'm still out of work, though admittedly not necessarily looking to stay in radio. I am still close friends with some of the people at my old station, and there are some events that they've done that I really wanted to go to. But I haven't been able to bring myself to do it. I give you a LOT of credit to be able to do something like that. I wish you all the luck in the world with the book. And keep your faith... your next radio job is right around the corner.
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I recently read an old interview where you placed blame on various "unknowns" and "conspiracy's" for a certain local dj's dismissal-Jaime Cooley-from NRK and more recently, a radio station in Phoenix. For the record: Jaime is fake. She is extremely nice to people who have something to offer her, can get her something for free (tix, drinks, connections) and is a lush... People see right threw that after a short while and lose respect for a person who has zero personality. She has horrible taste in music and was spoon fed music to play via record companies for various percs...whether it was free tickets, merch or the obvious attempt to kiss the right asses. She has slept with several musicians and when your that obvious AND easy-your image is immediately tarnished, which hurts you when your in the public's eye. This isn't a jaded co-worker or even someone in the music industry, but a normal Joe who had the pleasure of "dating" her a couple times.
I guess I chose to comment on your website because I read in the same interview of your distaste for the radio and the inner logistics and specifically that fact that dj's are spoon fed they're programming. Of all the people I DO know or have known in the music industry as an outsider-JC is the biggest fake, groupie drunk/drug addict no-personality talentless POS I know. Honestly she deserves to be on the radio-right along side Marconi as his new sidekick...appealing to the white trash of felony flats who want more Limp Biscuit, AC/DC and big hair bands of the 90's... Good luck on the job search!
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