Burritos and blondes...

Congratulations to Pancho Villa for winning my last poll for the best SF burrito joint. I miss that place. El Farolito and El Balazo were close seconds.

Newest poll is for your favorite blonde bombshell. I added myself, but don't feel obligated to vote for me. I don't know who votes, so it's totally anonymous. Only if you're really feeling it. My vote goes to Mamie Van Doren.

Hope everyone is good.

xo,
Greta

Raisin in the Sun

My life has been intense. Thanks to everyone who sent supportive messages about my "losing my job..." blog.

It was the best thing I could have done. I forgot to mention was that I had already given notice, and was going to be leaving this week. Probably that was part of the reason things came to a head there.

Anyway, onwards and upwards. This weekend I worked really hard in the studio. I have two songs that are sounding pretty good now. It's an amazing process to create music like that. I am having a great time, and learning a lot. I am learning to develop my musical style further. After years of trying to fit a particular mold, I am finally finding my own style. It's a rush.

Yesterday I did laundry, and watched "A Raisin in the Sun" - the new version with Sean Combs. It was pretty good. Sydney Poitier's are some big shoes to fill, but Sean Combs, surprisingly, had some good moments. Phylicia Rashad stole the show, in my opinion. Living in Harlem and working on my own dreams helped me appreciate the play even more. It was written by Lorraine Hansberry. The title of the play is taken from a Langston Hughes poem called Harlem:

Harlem

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?


Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Losing my job/ Friday off in the snow

So I've been working as a personal secretary for the past eight months. I am really grateful that I had this job. My boss is a good person, but very intense and moody. Working one-on-one with somebody presents a unique brand of challenges.

Most of the time I've enjoyed working for him, and became familiar with his particular idiosyncrasies, and enjoyed some flexibility of the position. But sometimes things were really hard. For instance, yesterday a woman called. I took her name and number, and gave him the message. He yelled at me: "you don't remember anything I tell you. I never want to talk to her. She's a waste of my time." When I apologized and explained that I simply hadn't remembered her name he told me "you never take responsibility."

Things got worse when he asked me to check his messages, and the message I gave him wasn't one he wanted to hear. He went on a tirade about how I shouldn't bother him. He proceeded to yell out all these assumptions about how he thought I felt in general, and what I thought of him. None of which were true. It was really intense.

Making blanket statements about people is a pretty fruitless way to communicate. But I tried not to take his comments personally, knowing he was going through his own pain. On the other hand, I felt like my self-respect was diminishing.

I calmly asked him to please not talk to me that way. He didn't stop. So I told him I was going to go home. A few years ago I might have agonized about this decision or felt really hurt and guilty. Instead I took about ten minutes, packed my things, left my key on the desk and went home. I knew there was no going back.

I feel really compassionate and grateful for this person. I wanted things to end well, but the only way they could was if I took a stand for my self respect and made room for something better. Already this beautiful Friday has been something better.

Power belters and burritos (vote in the poll)

Last week I had a poll where people voted for best 80s Power belter. Thanks to all TWO voters.

The winner of the poll was Steve Perry of Journey. I don't really count my two votes for George Michael.

Meanwhile, I listed some of my favorite burrito joints in SF. Feel free to vote for your favorite.

Choices / Abercrombie and Fitch skits

Last year I lived with my sister and her family for a few months. My oldest nephew was in 1st grade. Almost every day he took his lunch, and a little bit of pocket change for something at the cafeteria. I watched him put the money carefully in his red coin purse, which then went into his backpack. When he got home his mom would ask "what choices did you make today?"

They'd have a conversation about what he picked, and how he felt about it. I loved listening to his answers. "I had a chocolate bar ... I don't think it was the best choice, but I really enjoyed it."

There are a lot of difficult lessons in life, but I think the hardest is learning how to make your own decisions and, furthermore, making peace with them and enjoying them! To think of how many chocolate bars I didn't enjoy because I was judging myself for eating them is super sad.

Someone once said to me: "sometimes there is no right or wrong, there is simply a choice." That was a revelation, because, frankly, for most of my life, I was tortured by the fact that I could have somehow prevented all the heartache and hurt and pain that I came across - mine and everyone elses- if I simply made the "right" choice. I think I subconciously felt responsible for everything/anything that went wrong.

There are lots of reasons that I was like that (oldest child syndrome, perhaps?), but now when I look at all my choices, I know that I tried the best I could. My life decisions have all helped me learn and have compassion for myself and others.

So, that was more serious than I had anticipated. To lighten the mood a little - here are some skits about the Abercrombie and Fitch stores. I laughed at these a lot this week:

Life as a working-class singer

Before I moved to NYC, I made my living as a working class singer. One of the things I did a lot was sing funerals.

I loved singing funerals. To be able to participate in such an event was an honor, and the gravity of it would invariably dispel my anxieties (that are common for us musicians) and I was able to do my best work.

Mostly I sang at local parishes. But one time the funeral was at the cemetery chapel in Colma.

Since I didn't have a car, Andrew, the mortician offered me a ride. We met at the funeral home. The whole motorcade was waiting. I was shocked when I realized my spot was in the passenger seat of the vintage Cadillac hearse carrying the body. We led the caravan down the highway... oh, so slow. I was wearing my dark suit and sun-glasses, and Andrew his mortician suit.

Andrew is about my age and had spent years in the hospitality industry working high-end hotels. He felt like he needed to do something more meaningful, so against the wishes of his family he started working funerals. On the way he told me all about it.

(BTW - have you noticed that you don't generally meet morticians or garbage men? He also told me about the social stigma of being a mortician, and how Six Feet Under humanized the funeral industry a bit.)

I waited in the car with the coffin while he ran into the cemetery office with his license and the death certificate. That was weird. I whispered hello to the body.

This particular funeral was hard. It was long, there was no organist, so I was singing a-capella. They also presented me with some last-minute tunes as I arrived. I didn't bring all the sheet music, so I had to sing from memory.

While I was singing, Andrew was like the invisible master of ceremonies. He was there making sure everything went smoothly (everyone got funeral cards, body being transported, flowers, etc...) Working at funerals gave me a lot of appreciation for the various talents that funeral directors need.

We drove the body to the crypt. I sang a lot more...outside, it was windy and cold. Finally the body was sealed in, and people started to disperse.

I got into the hearse to warm up while Andrew finished all his duties. He finally got in the driver's seat, and a little boy ran up to the door. He was about 8 or 9 and was the grandson of the deceased. He was still holding his white gloves, as he had helped as a pall bearer. He shook mine and Andrew's hands very maturely, and asked if we were partners. He was holding back tears and he thanked us for making his Grandpa's funeral happen. We said thank you back.


Andrew shut the car door. Behind the shaded glass he pulled tissues out of his pocket and cried. He said: "That is why I do this."

We drove back north, and he dropped me off at the BART station near City College. People at the curb stared. He laughed, and said "they're probably wondering what I'm doing leaving a pretty girl here at the curb in my hearse!"

I pondered my morning as I took the bus home. I taught some voice lessons that afternoon, and then went to rehearsal.

That was the day in the life as a working class singer.

Authors@Google: Elizabeth Gilbert

This is trippy. I had an existential crisis when I turned 10 too.

Valentine's day - sweet and bitter

When I was about 5 or 6, I infamously wrote "Happy V.D." on all of my Valentines cards which were decorated with lacy paper doilies and stickers.

I had just learned about abbreviations and went a little too far with it (to you kiddies out there, V.D. is an old fashioned term for S.T.D.). The grown-ups chuckled, and Grandma made me re-do the cards, but of course they didn't explain. Somewhere along the line, I figured out all the bittersweet implications of Valentines day and love on my own.

On one hand there is a jaded quality many people have about Valentines day, on the other hand there is the hopeful romantic hype that we subconsciously absorb that plays into longings for love and affection (perhaps from Kindergarten? Fairy tales? Marketing from Hallmark Corp.? Hershey's Chocolate Co.?)

While I've never had any particular expectations when it comes to Valentines day, there are societal obligations that really suck. (Damned if you do, damned if you don't!)

I've always appreciated thoughtfulness that comes my way. But when I think that anyone I cared for, and who cared for me, did things because they felt they "should" or because they thought I might expect it, well, it just makes me feel really, really sad. I think a lot of Valentines Days are negatively colored by obligatory gestures that are disguised as loving moments.

There is nothing more romantic than true thoughtfulness without agenda, or less romantic than an flower arrangement or gift that is a result of "going through the motions."

To celebrate the many shades of feelings that go along with this holiday, here is Mr. Goh Nakamura performing his original song - Surrogate Valentine:

Living in a snow globe/ Law and Order

Last night at around midnight I opened my curtain and looked out the window. I gasped when I realized there was a fluffy white blanket of snow all around. I love the sort of cozy muffled silence that happens as a result.

I opened the window and just listened. The atmosphere has a kind of gray blurriness to it, and the car lights glow red along the bridge along the Hudson river.

The snowy drift made me feel like I was in a snow globe. Now I kind of get snow globes... just a little.

Law and Order has been my company most evenings. I really am a hermit. Chris Meloni and Mariska Hargitay feel like they are becoming old friends.

On Being Homeschooled / "I Fell in Love with an Alien" - The Kelly Family

When I worked at the library last year, the homeschooling group met once a week during the day in the Community room. I recognized them right away with their alternative lunches, the home-made t-shirts, the vintage clothes, social awkwardness, the close-knit band of mothers that accompanied them. It brought back so many memories.

Now for the true confession: I was homeschooled.

And to answer your questions - Yes, I had friends. Yes, I learned how to read, write and do math. Was I a little weird? Definitely yes.

As a homeschooler, being weird is sort of a badge of honor. Whether it's your anachronistic outfit, an obsession with a particular era of history, musical genre, an instrument, wacky hair, or goth leanings, it's a must for a homeschooler. In general, homeschooled kids (they hate being called "kids") go out of their way to prove that they are really smart, mature and unusual. It's a coping mechanism for when you are already considered the strange outsider.

I could go on and on. I have a lot of thoughts and opinions about it -- too many for one blog.

In case you are confused, here is a clip of "The Kelly Family" (pictures are worth 1000 words!). While little known to American audiences, to me they represent the absolute pinnacle of homeschooling culture and aesthetics. They are a large Irish American family that moved to Spain in the mid 60s (they said it was to escape TV and the American culture). They started traveling around in Europe and homeschooling their kids. The kids ended up being discovered busking in Koeln while they were all living on a houseboat. They became a super pop group. In their case, the homeschool aesthetic became their signature look and sound:


"I Fell in Love with an Alien":

Poll of the week - Who's your favorite power belter?

I am going to try and include polls fairly often.

Please join in the fun and cast your vote (see poll on the right)

Grand Central Station

There was an amazing documentary on PBS about Grand Central Station. I think it will soon be on the PBS web site, so you can watch on line.

Today my friend Margery sent me this great video of performance art that took place in Grand Central Station... I wish I had been there when this happened!:

More from the 80s- Amy Grant and Peter Cetera - "Next Time I fall in Love"

So many great finds. Just have to add this one - "Next time I fall in love, It will be with you" - classic 80s. A little bit Flashdance and Dirty Dancing. And what's with light streaming through the windows in 80s videos?

Arnel Pineda, 1980s Nostalgia, etc...

During the 80s we didn't have TV, so I missed out on music videos. With youtube, I can catch up now. Some of the videos I remembered as being amazingly cool (I'd watch TV once in a while at Grandma's house), are incredibly cheesy. I've included some below.

In other 80s news, the rock band Journey found a new singer this year... Arnel Pineda from Quezon City, Philippines. Neil Schon (guitarist from Journey) found Arnel Pineda performing with his tribute band on youtube. Love that story! (Thanks to Goh for alerting me.) Arnel is a kick-ass singer (kick-ass is my new favorite word). Here's a video of him with his cover band singing Journey's 1983 hit "Faithfully":



I've been on a Peter Cetera kick. Here's a classic - "Glory of Love" (Never saw this video in the 80s, but I think it was the song from Karate Kid 3). As far as hollywood versions of Japan, it could be worse ("The Last Samurai" with Tom Cruise, anybody?):


When this song came out in the 80s, I was about 12 or 13. There was something really magical about all those big stars getting together and singing this song. Looking back, it's pretty funny, but not without some redeeming moments (Cyndi Lauper, James Ingram, Stevie Wonder and his outfits). Everyone seems so sincere... especially Bruce!!:



This is technically 90s, but in spirit it's 80s. My understanding is that since veterans from the Vietnam war came back in the 70s and were treated badly and blamed for the war, folks in the 90s made great efforts to support troops, regardless of people's feeling about the political situation. What better way to do that than a group-sing led by Michael Bolton, Celine Dion, Peter Cetera and Luther Vandross:

New Blog Location!!!

Ok, I've been blogging on Myspace for the last couple of years. There are some disadvantages to myspace blogs (eg: lack of picture hosting, difficult archive searches) , so I'm going to try Blogspot. Some of my favorite bloggers are on here, and I thought I'd follow suit.