Quick Decisions

I made a very quick decision yesterday, in the world of my decisions, which doesn't usually involve quick.

But if you want to get a place to live in NYC that isn't a gazillion dollars, you have to act quickly.

I have to move at the end of March, and this fact has been looming over my head ominously as the date draws nearer. I have been checking the availability of sublets on Craigslist, periodically. Sublets appeal to me more than long-term housing situations, since my plan is to tour around the country once my album is released. I assumed that Brooklyn would be the place to go, a land a bit more affordable and musician-friendly, it seems.

But I found an inexpensive sublet available for April-June right smack dab in the middle of Greenwich village, and I wrote to the woman who posted the ad. She wrote back, and I went over to look at the place. Teeny tiny, but fine. We seemed to get along peachily, and as I left I told her, "I just need some time to think about this; I can't make instant decisions about these things."

She had about 10 more people lined up to see the place after me, however. I thought about that as I pondered the merits of finding a possibly bigger place a little farther out, versus the convenience of being a straight shot up the 1 train away from my producer's studio, and living a stone's throw from probably the highest concentration of music venues in the city.

Then there was another benefit: one less thing to worry about. If I just made a decision, secured a place, I could enjoy the rest of my two months before moving without having to devote any additional time to apartment searching. I could brush the dust of apartment searching off my hands and move on to other plans like marketing my album, lining up show dates for my album promotion tour, and so on. Lots to do.

Less than two hours later, I contacted the woman and told her I'd take the apartment. I knew if I waited any longer, I would miss my chance, and I'd have to keep searching. I liked her, and I decided a few months in the heart of Greenwich village couldn't help but being fun, at the very least an adventure. I didn't have the ovaries (that's what I like to say in place of "didn't have the balls") for it at 22-23, the time when it maybe made more sense to do it, but that's a recurring theme in my whole NYC music adventure. Yes, I'm 30. I should probably be working on getting myself wedded and preggod at this point. It probably would have made way more sense to be doing this pavement pounding record making music pushing thing when I was a wee lass, not as my biological clock ticks and my contemporaries enter into marriages and 30-year mortgages.

But when I got really, really honest with myself last spring, I realized that what I wanted to create, at this point in my life, was not children. My truest, most authentic desire, was to create an album.

So this I am doing.

And who says it's too late?

Seems like only the voices in my head, those voices that cast doubts about this and other things. There's no use in listening to them.

Because the reality is, I am here, and I am doing it, and these things are proof that it can't possibly be too late.

And maybe the knowing that I often wait too long, and sometimes DO miss my chance, is what will continue to propel me to act faster, when I need to. It might mean making a bad decision here and there, but I like to think that the sum of many decisions will be more important in the scheme of things than any one particular decision. Perhaps the greatest skill to attain is knowing when I can afford to wait, and when I need to just take my best first guess and move onto the next question.

I'm hoping it turns out to be an amazingly good decision--time will tell--but there is some peace in just having made it at all, instead of missing my opportunity, thereby letting the decision make itself.

At least, for now.

Circumstances

So a lot of people ask me various iterations of the question, "Casey, what are you *actually* doing in NYC?"

Which is a valid question.

As a general rule, I try to err on the side of *not* prying into areas that people may not be comfortable discussing with me. I think this is why I was not drawn into the journalism side of my communications studies in college. I was more interested in PR--telling the stories that people wanted to tell--and interpersonal/organization communications, understanding the theories behind how communication happens and how it impacts relationships. Although I can't say I *never* do, but I am not usually one to pry. (If I do, it's usually about people's love lives--maybe I can blame it on my hopeless romanticism.) Anyway, I say all this to say, I don't think I would have made a very good journalist; and also, I'm always a little taken back when people ask questions that I wouldn't ask them.

But the questions are valid I think in large part because I am in this situation where I am currently doing exactly what I want to be doing with my life, and people are curious about how that happens, since many people have things they wish or want to be doing but aren't because of X Y and Z. I certainly was always in that situation. I would love to move to NYC but I can't because X. I would love to have this career but I can't because Y. I could be doing [fill in the blank thing I actually want to do] if it weren't for Z.

So the logical thing would have been to wait until X, Y and Z got sorted out, and then embark on [life I actually wanted.]

But here's the thing: That's what I had already been doing. For as long as I could remember. And X, Y, and Z were not only NOT getting sorted out, but they were getting more complicated as time went on. Probably more so, because I was avoiding doing the thing I actually wanted to do, therefore ultimately unsatisfied with my life, and prone to increase its complications in an effort to make up for what I wasn't doing. Sort of like patching up something in need of a major repair, while the actual broken thing gets worse and worse.

When I made the decision to pursue music as a career--wait, rephrase--when I surrendered to the acknowledgement of my truest desire, having a career in music, I did not have X, Y and Z figured out. At all.

And I still don't. And I am not going to get into the logistics of my life situation right now other than to say that things are uncertain, unstable, and stressful when I let myself go down that road.

But it's the road of X, Y, and Z.

Reality is, at this moment, it has been not even a year since I threw myself in pursuit of a career in music. I have not gone hungry and I have not gone homeless. I moved to NYC. I didn't know how that was going to happen, but it did. I am recording an album. I didn't know how that was going to happen, but it did. I raised over $10,000 for the album. Again, had no idea how that was going to happen, but just knew that it had to.

You don't want to know the gory details, the innards, of my life right now. Someday, I think, I will tell everything. (Will anyone care, at that point? Does anyone care now? Perhaps not, but anyway...)Right now it is too close to home, too personal, and honestly, too frightening. But the other thing I want to say is this: If I told you about the support beams holding my existence together at the moment, a little voice inside your head might say, “Well, of course she can [live her dream]. I could, too, if it weren't for X, Y, and Z, which she doesn't have to worry about.”

And you know what? I am guilty of this same exact line of thinking. I will look at someone and dissect their circumstances, comparing myself to them. “Well of course she is successful, look at her (famous/successful) parents! Look at her (model appearance/parents schlepping her to Mickey Mouse Club auditions/whatever good fortune seems to have come upon this person, helping them to get where they are.)

Completely unfair thinking. Because no matter how successful parents are, children need to achieve their own success. Look at all of the famous and successful musicians in the world. What percentage of their children achieve that same level of success? I don't have statistics, but I would guess it's very small. And these children, arguably, had all of the advantages, between genetics and example and education and connections...but still, it's rare that the child of a famous musician goes on to great success of their own. In fact, it many ways, it probably makes things even harder.

But back to circumstances, in general, and focusing on them, rather than the dream:

Read some success stories. I do this when I get depressed or discouraged. (Not rare occurances, despite how cheery I might seem.) Very few success stories read, “One day, the stars aligned, and suddenly I had no bills to pay, no responsibilities, and no worries. I realized I could now, finally, do anything I wanted with my life, so at that moment I decided to be a movie star/writer/musician/painter/bakery owner/etc..”

I'm not saying circumstances aren't important. Heck, if you look at my last blog entry, you'll see a long tirade about how I couldn't even manage to practice yoga when my circumstances changed.

What I'm saying is this: When you are following your true passion, your dream, the circumstances will fall into place to support you.

I used to hear this and it seemed kind of crazy and illogical. I didn't exactly buy it; although it seemed right to my spirit, it didn't quite seem feasible.
But it is NOT a chicken and egg thing. The circumstances do NOT come first. The dream comes first. And the dream has to move forward first, without the security of circumstances.

But I promise and swear to you this: The things in place which are supporting the framework of my dream, were not planned. They are also dissolving, like a salt block in the rain.

I have to keep reminding myself that the last time the salt block dissolved, I got a new one. I have to keep the faith that, as I follow what I truly feel and believe is my destined path, circumstances will continue to support what I am doing.

It's stressful. There's a part of me that thinks, God, I should just wise up and get with the program and go back to the old life, where I could just buy a new salt block and not have to worry about it dissolving. Let it dissolve; I can just buy a new one.

But all the salt blocks in the world couldn't make up for the fact that I wasn't living a life that was true to myself. And as much as it's hard to be uncertain about things like income and having a place to live, this is the price I am paying for following my dream. This is my struggle, and it is because of this struggle, that what I am doing is truly special. If it wasn't hard, if it wasn't a risk, if it wasn't uncertain, it wouldn't really mean much.

I have often told myself the same thing about love. With every heartbreak from every failed relationship or disappointing dating experience, every bout of hurt feelings or WTF, I would tell myself, it is because of these atrocities that we celebrate real love. THIS is why we spend so much time and effort and money on weddings to celebrate relationships that DO work, love that DOES last. And this is why lasting love IS so precious, because it is so rare. And if it weren't for all this crap, all this awful sad crap, this frustration, this disappointment, this stress, it wouldn't be that special when that one special person came along. Their special-ness juxtaposed against the sea of crap you had to brave in order to get to them.

As I mentioned before, when I get depressed or discouraged, one of the things I do is read up on musicians who have “made it.”

In the past few days, I have read up on Ingrid Michaelson, whose life and path seems so familiar to me I can almost taste it, and Taylor Swift, who seems like a space alien to me—at age 22, so together and smart and ruling the world at the age where I'm not sure I had even figured out how to tie my shoes.

In both articles I read, what each of these successful women express to their interviewers is that they worry about their success going away. Swift says: “You know what does freak me out? When is the other shoe going to drop? I am so happy right now. So I am always living in fear. This can't be real, right? This can't be my life.”

And Michaelson said, in the 2007 NY Times article which details her first year of success in music:
“I worry this is all going to disappear in a few months, and I’ll have to wait tables again,” she said. “I get anxiety-ridden, and I can’t relax.”

So what it sounds like is, there are two camps. There are the camps of people who feel like they haven't made it and worry they never will. Then there are the camps of people who have made it and worry they are going to lose it all.

Basically, either way, you get to worry. You just worry about different things.

I'm assuming Taylor Swift could retire today, at age 22, buy a house in Tahiti, and never sing a note, write a song, or lift a finger for the rest of her natural life. Yet she is still worrying. Why?

There I go, looking around at someone else's circumstances and using them to justify my own life. “I wouldn't have to worry either, if not for X, Y, and Z.”

That's crap. I know it's crap.

I just need to keep moving forward, and have faith, because so far, life has not let me down, so I have no reason to believe it will now.

Getting Situated

My yoga practice has suffered in NYC.

At first I was beating myself up about it. Why can't I get my act together to do yoga almost every day, like I did in DC?

But here's what happened:

In DC, I had a magical yoga studio. It is called Yoga District. There were two locations that were extremely convenient (less than 1/2 mile from) to my job, and one that was also about a ten minute walk from my apartment. (They have since opened even more studios, I think a total of five now.) Your membership is good at any of the studios. There are classes all morning, afternoon, and evening. There are all different types of yoga, from Vinyasa to Kundalini, and tons of different teachers. The class rates are unbelievably low--$10 a class, or less if you get a multi-class pass, and then the unbelievable $77 per month for unlimited yoga.

So in that type of situation, no wonder I was able to do so much yoga!

Then I moved to NYC. I went to a great studio that I had heard about, called Sonic Yoga. When you show up there for your first class, before you take your first class, you have the opportunity to get three months unlimited for $180. Otherwise, it's way more expensive. And once you have you first class, you can't have that opportunity anymore. So, in a moment of impulse because it seemed to make financial sense, I bought the three month membership.

Then I realized it was an hour from where I worked (job downtown by Wall St, studio was in midtown near the Theater District) and even farther from where I lived (out in Jersey City).

But it was too late, so I stuck with it, and I made it to yoga maybe twice a week. I really liked the studio itself, and the people there, and the teachers. But it was too far away to get to on a more consistent basis.

Then I moved to the Union Square/East Village area of Manhattan. My Sonic Yoga three-month membership expired, so I--also in the same spirit of deal-seeking, need-to-do-it-now-or-will-lose-the-opportunity (and by the way, don't impulse, fear-based incentives seem a little contradictory to yoga teachings?)--got a three month unlimited membership at Dharma Yoga East.

But, my fatal mistake was getting this membership based on having been to Dharma Yoga West. Dharma West is huge, beautiful, energized. Dharma Mittra, a world renowned yogi, teaches there almost every day, so classes are filled with devoted yogis, and there is a beautiful spirit about the place.

Dharma East is nothing like it. It's an older space--I'm assuming Dharma's original studio--much in need of updating. Dharma himself never teaches there, presumably because it's a smaller space and he draws a large crowd to his classes. The classes are most often sparsely attended at Dharma East. The place has very little in the way of energy, spirit, or community, sadly. It was also more difficult to find class times that were appropriate for my level and schedule, since there is only one room for classes (whereas other studios often have two rooms so that classes can be going on simultaneously).

Eventually, I just stopped going.

I happened upon Shala Yoga, a studio near my apartment. Having now regretted two "make a three month commitment before even taking one class" decisions in a row, I just went with a three-class trial, rather than their deeply discounted one-month unlimited for first-time students.

But, that turned out to be a bad call, because I loved Shala.

Ahhhh, vinyasa. Ahhhh, nice challenging classes with great teachers. Ahhhh, beautiful but simple space. Ahhhh, spirituality but not too much. And so close to my apartment.

I was delighted to see they offer a work-study program where you can work at the studio in exchange for classes. Starting Monday, I will be doing that, and I'm so glad to finally have a yoga situation that seems like it is going to help me continue to strengthen my practice. The right kind of yoga for me, affordable, convenient, and a place where I feel comfortable.

This whole "finding my yoga situation" has made me think a lot about the importance of getting situated. I like to think of myself as comfortable in transition, able to get things done regardless of the situation, or the logistics. So I spend a lot of time thinking about the doing, and not as much about the setup. I guess with the mindset that if I just keep focused on what I am doing, the setup will sort itself out.

But maybe the setup is a little more important than previously thought.

Maybe it's beyond just me. It's like the overarching philosophy in this country, that you're supposed to do just as well no matter what your circumstances are. Like, how children in high-poverty schools, many of whom come from completely unstable home environments, are taking the same standardized tests as children in affluent suburbs.

And I can understand this in some respects, since the world doesn't care what your circumstances are, in terms of getting a job or doing well in your business. Successful endeavors make the world go 'round, not excuses.

But just because the world doesn't care about our circumstances, our setup, doesn't mean we can ignore the reality of how this impacts our performance.

Then I think about what I am working on here with music. I spend most of my time thinking about the music, what I want to do, my goals, and how to get there.

But what about improving my guitar/piano skills or my leaves-much-to-be-desired knowledge of music theory? What about I can't remember the last time I took a voice lesson? What about a more permanent living situation that will be conducive to the development of my music career? What about what about what about...

I guess like everything else, it's balance between setting yourself up as best you can for success, and then being as successful as you can be in the situation you've got.