Europe

This is going to be a travel log of sorts of my trips to Europe. Starting with my first trip and my first city, London England.

July 2003.

Landed in Heath row airport and we get out luggage, quite a bit for two people, but some of it it’s used yet, we have extra bags to bring back gifts and clothes in. Since we will be here for three weeks I had to pack all kinds of extra items, like pain killers and such. We will also be attending a convention in Geneva later, so we had more dressy items that we had to pack.

We make our way to the subway and find one that will take us to the center of town; from there we will change trains and get another that will take us to the Kennsington station. We are staying in that area. We are quite tired and dragging all these bags doesn’t help. I know we look like tourists, but soon we can check in throw our bags in the room and lighten our load. It is rush hour and everyone is commuting to work.

On the way in we can see the small houses and other stations on the outskirts of town. There is graffiti on some of the buildings and retaining walls. Since I have been to New York City and seen really hard core graffiti this looks lame and doesn’t have the curves of either the New York kind or the LA kind. There is none of that hip-hop feel to it. It’s too straight up and down and stiff looking, not funky.

We change trains and get confused as to which platform we need to get to. My man walks over the a hard core punk rocker who looks like he could kill with his bare hands and says, “ Excuse me sir, could you tell me where we need to be to get the train that takes us to Kennsington Station?” He gives him a bewildered look for a second then tells us nicely where we should get the train. He is thanked and he nods and turns back towards his train.

We make it to the Hotel just fine and check into the smallest room I have even seen. Good thing we had watched American movies that showed this, I was prepared.

We didn’t know where to go eat, but we found Safeway and got some wine, pepperoni and French bread. We found that after wondering around the area by the hotel, there was a nice park we went into and then we looked for food. We took that back to the room had a snack and went to sleep. The whole time we were in London we kept missing dinner because we would take naps and wake up too late. The next day we planned to go sightseeing. Sure it was touristy, but you have to see it once, right?

Helping

If we see our friends in need, how can we not lend a helping hand? Sure we might not have much but we can always give what we can. Of course we can’t help everyone, but if we don’t help our friend’s what good are we?

The thing about that is, if you are comfortable helping others, how will you react when you are the one that needs help? For myself I find it very difficult to be on the receiving end of all the help. When I have had the opportunity to help others I feel good about myself, when I need help, I don’t know what to do. Sure I say thank you, I just never expect any help from anyone. A lot of that has to do with my family.

My older sister never stood up for me. If anything she would join in when other children were picking on me. She never defended me or gave me support. Once when I was really ill and needed her help and she drew a bath for me. I thanked her and was really surprised at her kindness. As I was thanking her, she burst into laughter and made fun of me for being weak and needing help in the first place. I never told her I loved her again. I have hugged her, but never said those words to her. Why should I, when my heartfelt expression of gratitude was met with mocking laughter?

It’s not that I feel everyone will react that way. It’s more that I have been hurt and have not received that much appreciation for all I do. With the knowledge of what it really means to be undervalued I endeavor never to do that to others. I strive to be generous when I can and to give without thought of receiving anything in return but a thank you. I am proud of the achievements of my friends and brag about them when I can. I am happy to have artists, writers, engineers, bankers and dancers as my friends. Each of which brings something interesting to the table. What I can’t stand people that are unproductive or uninteresting.


I guess I’m surprised when people remember me and help me out. That too must be from my family. They seemed to have amnesia when it came to all the things I did for them. I would have to remind them. My mother, she acted like I never helped. She did that as a way to never have to pay back a kindness and to permanently be the victim. If no one ever helped her, she could continue her “Woe is me,” conversations.

To all my friends that have shown support to me, in my writing and dancing endeavors… Thank You! For the unexpected help, Thank you so very much! If I have helped you in any way… You are very welcome!!! :-)

False Alarm

With my dogs I kept thinking that Middy was expecting. It turned out to be a false alarm. I am so glad. While puppies are great and I would have found good homes for them, really didn’t want her to have puppies.

Now that I don’t have to worry about that I can get back to other things in my life. My belly dancing is taking a turn. There was a performance last Sunday in Long Beach and there will be another in March at the same place.

The first dance didn’t go so well. This time my beaded belt didn’t want to stay on. My teacher was at the performance and helped pin me back into my outfit and I was able to finish my dance. The second dance went much more smoothly and the outfit cooperated and I was able to concentrate on my dancing. The song was long and by the end I was getting tired, I was so glad when it ended. The next time I will do a dance with my teacher, which will be a lot, less pressure than everyone looking at just myself.

It was great to see my friends show their support by coming to my performance. I was all at once happy and scared. I was happy they were there, so I wasn’t some friend-less dork. At the same time, if I really messed up, they would be there to see that. I wanted to do more things, tricks if you will. The belt misshape threw me and I forgot what I had planned to do. During the second dance I was just trying to keep up and forget that everyone was watching and dance as if I was alone in the living room. It seemed to work.
I had more turns planned but the rug under my feet kept grabbing on to my ballet shoes and it made turning almost impossible.

If my dog had puppies they would have only been three weeks old on the night I went to dance and I wouldn’t want to leave them alone all evening. I wouldn’t have had the freedom to use up the living room to practice as well. Since it turned out that she didn’t I have the freedom to do other things that just baby sit puppies and worry about them and change towels. I love my dogs and have a great time with them, but there are other things I want to do with my time. Now I am able to, since it was only a false alarm.

Outlet

As an artist it is important to have an outlet for artistic expression. For dancers they need a stage and actors a camera and painters a canvas. Whatever the artist if you don’t have a place to express yourself in your own way, it can be depressing and it can hurt.

While I have had assignments lately for a magazine, I don’t always have the freedom to say anything I want. Yes I understand the reasons for this and it makes sense. I know I can’t shine that harsh a light on sleepwalkers, it’s bad for them. I know have to do my job and that does not include my own agenda or anyone else's for that matter. That’s the logical and mature side of things, the reasonable part of me.

The whinny crying baby artist in me wants to pout and throw a temper tantrum and say, “It’s not fair!” While it may not be fair, it the fact of the matter that life is not fair and I don’t get to do everything my way. Sure I know that, everyone has to deal with that fact of life. Unless they are in denial like my mother, who knows for a fact that everything is someone else’s fault, it is never herself. When she doesn’t get her way or fails it is always something out of her control, someone was being a big meanie!

While I refrain from that kind of behavior, it does hurt when things don’t work out the way I want them to. I mean to say it really hurts. It hurt me in my chest to do a piece that was not up to my own standards. I had to finish it and get it over with and move on to something else anything else, the dishes, letting the dogs out. I am fine now and I know why I reacted the way I did.

With this blog I am able to do things my own way and it has spoiled me. I don’t have an editor or boss telling me anything. I try not to be self-indulgent, if I go out to the mall I always bring something home for others, not just me. If I go to a book signing I think of a friend that might want a signed book by this writer as well.

Why all the fuss that I didn’t get to do things my way? The stereotype of an artist being sensitive and crying over things that no one else would think is that big of a deal, or what they would consider ‘just work’ applies here. Yes I was upset because I was told, No. I do give good gifts to my friends and I am generous. Maybe I do all that to cover over the fact that deep down I am a selfish artist and I want my own way all the time and I don’t want anyone to know that since I am afraid no one will like me after they find out. Is that another form of self-deception and my friends already know this about me? All I can say at this point is, thanks for reading my words here on this, my outlet.

Door Knock

In the last few weeks with the fires we have seen on the news the Police going from door to door and telling people to evacuate. Sometimes it has been voluntarily other times mandatory.

Does it make you think, what if it was my turn? What would I take along, what is most important to me and my family? It’s good to plan these things, some of get scatterbrained at such times and can’t think. A little forethought would be helpful if that is you. For me I am pretty steady and my steadiness rises during a crisis. I do not panic and I think clearly, something I can’t take credit for, I got it from my dad.

Last night I got that door knock, there was a chemical spill on my street and all the residents were asked to walk up three blocks and wait at the corner of a major street till we were told it was safe to go home. I was alone and grabbed these things: my good walking shoes, a sweatshirt with a front pocket, my cell phone and my wallet so I had ID with me. I asked the Police if it was okay to take my dogs and they said sure as long as they were on a leash. I had changed into my sweat pants, but changed back into my long denim skirt I had worn to work since it would offer better protection in the cold night air. The front pocket on my sweatshirt helped me get to my cell phone while I had three dogs to take care of.

The rest of my neighbors were not so prepared and the parents didn’t tell their kids to put on proper footwear and so they were complaining about the cold cement and how they were barefoot. How long does it take to put on flip-flops? My dogs thought it was just time for a walk and they pulled on me till I took them on our usual route. Which was fine since it took up time and helped me take my mind off the danger to my home.

It also gave me time to think. If the Cops and Firemen had not gotten there in time and I hadn’t had a chance to get out of harm’s way, what then? If worse had come to worse, I felt okay. I had just spent the last few days giving presents to my friends, just because and not for the holidays. In the last 24 hours I had been able to hug and kiss my friends, people that are important to me.

As it turns out everything is fine now and we were able to get back into the house by 8pm. I am still grateful for giving all my friends gifts and letting them know how I feel about them. It’s never wrong to do the right thing. As for the Police, they did a great job. I know they told me to leave for my protection and they are trained professionals. If they ever have to knock on your door, listen to their direction and do as you are told. Don’t forget to put on your good, comfortable, durable shoes.

Good

Feeling good about ourselves can be difficult. Some days we just get up and feel spry and wonderful. Other days we just feel fat and dumpy. It could be changes in hormone levels or just the fact that we over ate the night before.

For some reason we have feel great in our favorite outfit and then our hair will be all wrong and then that blows the whole evening. Photos of myself make me cringe; it’s as if I never have a chin. It’s silly I know, and it could all be attributed to us being much too hard on ourselves.

When I get into my belly dance outfit and look at myself in the mirror all I see is the bad stuff that I hope and pray not one else is focusing in on. I don’t feel great or sexy or anything, just fat and dumpy. For some strange reason all of that goes out of my head when I am dancing. I really do love it and sort of going into a trance or other place and all of a sudden I don’t care and I just have fun. I know this is difficult to accomplish since I will be performing in front of people. Somehow I try to just focus on the dance and then I don’t care if someone thinks I’m fat in the audience.

Of course no one tells you that and people seem to like seeing me. It’s only when I am at home doing a dress rehearsal do I feel this way. I guess old baggage from my family and any insecurity I have just creeps in. My teacher and friends are so supportive and keep me thinking in a more positive way about myself. I don’t doubt my dancing skills; I have always been a good dancer. I just want to make sure everyone else thinks the same and not one wants to get up and leave during one of my performances.

If all else fails I will at least be able to say I had one heck of an outfit on! That should make even the most camera and stage shy person feel good about themselves. It sure helps me.

Icon

Over the last few weeks I have had an opportunity to see some Icons both Pop and Dance Icons.

The first was a Pop Icon and her performance with other Pop stars. It was something and I enjoyed seeing all. What is it about these larger than life persons that keep us coming back? Just to see what they do next, there is something to be said about their hard work and shows that is entertaining and fascinating. Why not go and see them?

It’s been said that it is hard to have this larger than life people in our vicinity. That it can be difficult for others, making them feel bad. As if they could never do these things or reach the heights of success, which should not be. It should be an inspiration not a discouragement. It doesn’t mean you have to be exactly like them. Could it push you to do more, and keep going? Why not think of it in those terms?

I can’t see being so in awe of someone that it would make me discouraged. I have gone up and talked to some of these ones and I always treat them as a person. They still have to dress themselves and they get up and toast their bagels like everyone else. I can’t think of their act as what they are like in real life. It’s an act, a show that’s the point.

Maybe I am just too realistic and logical for the one’s that cowers at the feet of Icons. They didn’t get there without a lot of hard work and sweat and paying their does. There is the rare person that becomes famous almost overnight. The trouble with that is they forever have to work hard to earn it. The ones that rise slowly are able to savor the success when it comes to them, not at once but at last.

I still look up to Icons. If they can do it and are mortals like the rest of us then yes there is hope. What does it take? From all the interviews I have read hard work, hard work and more hard work. Oh and meeting the right people, so no staying at home all the time. Time to roll up your sleeves and get going.