I'm having a good day! The sun is shining, it's a beautiful, warm fall Saturday, I just got my laundry done, I'm going to see a movie later... Fucking awesome. One reason why I'm feeling so good is that things have been moving forward with the production of my album. It took me a while to get comfortable in the studio, to not get hostile, defensive or detached, (yes, unfortunately I've been all these all things at different times) but I think I've finally been able to move beyond my fears and go on to create some beautiful music with my producer Blake Morgan, on a consistent basis.
Working on my music has a lot of heavy baggage attached to it, because I used to make all my albums with a person who I was also married to. (This is no secret.) At first, I expected the current process to be similar to what it had been in the past, back when I was not encouraged to be a part of the process. I will give you an example of a studio-day during the recording of my Sony album in 1998: I would sit on the sofa at the studio, reading Cosmopolitan or sleeping all day and all night, until 4am in the morning when the recordings ended. At another session I would be playing Ms. Pacman all day. I was anything but behind the console and was very detached from the production itself. This, even though I am marked as the executive producer of my albums. It happens, people.
Being in the studio now is different like night and day from what it used to be. My producer Blake Morgan and I are very much a team, and I feel like I'm being listened to at every turn. I also wrote every tune from top to bottom, so the roots of all the songs are in me anyway--can't no one take them away. And by the way, no Cosmopolitans anywhere in the vicinity! Hehe. I feel free to express my ideas with Blake, whatever they may be, and know that I won't be ridiculed or ignored. I am constantly encouraged to do more, to play more myself and to follow my vision. It's all I've ever wanted: the encouragement, the empowerment. I'm gobbling it up.
It took some time to develop trust, as working in the studio is a very intimate process, but I think we're finally there. It can be challenging to see a new, healthy and fun situation for what it is, instead of hanging all my old "Christmas-ornaments" on it, but it's worth the effort. Looking forward to some fun and productive times in the studio!
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
I have now finished the first couple of days of a trial, after having been picked on Wednesday to be a juror in a court case. The whole concept is new to me and I'm learning so much from the experience, but alas I cannot share any information whatsoever about the proceedings, so as not to compromise the case, or get slapped with a penalty. I can say that I'm looking forward to being a part of the process and the deliberations, which may or may not be similar to what goes on in the movie "12 Angry Men." I eagerly anticipate watching it again after many years, now with some personal insight to the American judicial system. It'll be quite a different experience for me than when I read and saw it in school, at age 12 or 13.
This is one of those moments where I am extremely grateful for my bilingual education. I went to the English School in Helsinki for 11 years of my life, and I can honestly say that without those early years of consistent training in the English language, my life in New York these days would be quite different. I can thank those years for instilling in me my love of the English language and a great foundation in grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. I still have an accent, but I feel quite confident in my communication skills these days. It is my Finnish skills that I really need to be working on right about now....
If it weren't for my history at the English School, I suspect it would be difficult for me to serve on an American jury today. And yet, at the same time, here I am--not even having finished high school! Who am I to talk about education? Well, the amount that I did receive, I received well. And I certainly want to study more and expand my horizons for the rest of my life. I have come to see very clearly that the adage about education being the silver bullet is no joke. I'm admittedly making up for lost time.
Here's one area where I am extremely grateful to my parents: for understanding that learning a second language at a very young age was important. There are many things that can be said about the school I attended as a child, and not all of it is positive. I certainly remember numerous traumatic experiences and injustices, and I'm sure I'm not alone with these recollections. But I've also put plenty of the lessons I learned to good use. And as with any experience, I can always take what I like and leave the rest; I am learning that now. I can finally apply that to my old school and heartily appreciate the gifts it has given me, "12 Angry Men" among them. I've now officially opened the wrappings.
"The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet."
--Aristotle
This is one of those moments where I am extremely grateful for my bilingual education. I went to the English School in Helsinki for 11 years of my life, and I can honestly say that without those early years of consistent training in the English language, my life in New York these days would be quite different. I can thank those years for instilling in me my love of the English language and a great foundation in grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. I still have an accent, but I feel quite confident in my communication skills these days. It is my Finnish skills that I really need to be working on right about now....
If it weren't for my history at the English School, I suspect it would be difficult for me to serve on an American jury today. And yet, at the same time, here I am--not even having finished high school! Who am I to talk about education? Well, the amount that I did receive, I received well. And I certainly want to study more and expand my horizons for the rest of my life. I have come to see very clearly that the adage about education being the silver bullet is no joke. I'm admittedly making up for lost time.
Here's one area where I am extremely grateful to my parents: for understanding that learning a second language at a very young age was important. There are many things that can be said about the school I attended as a child, and not all of it is positive. I certainly remember numerous traumatic experiences and injustices, and I'm sure I'm not alone with these recollections. But I've also put plenty of the lessons I learned to good use. And as with any experience, I can always take what I like and leave the rest; I am learning that now. I can finally apply that to my old school and heartily appreciate the gifts it has given me, "12 Angry Men" among them. I've now officially opened the wrappings.
"The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet."
--Aristotle
Sunday, September 15, 2013
This morning I gave a 15-minute speech about my experiences, strength and hope to a room of about 40-50 people. I spoke candidly about sensitive and quite personal subjects, but it felt empowering, and I received an unbelievable amount of love back from my listeners. I am coming to realize that being vulnerable is powerful!
Public speaking used to freak me out more than anything else. Even as I've been performing on and off for the last 20 years of my life as a singer, for a long time it scared the hell out of me to say anything between the songs. In the performing arts-high school I attended in Finland, us students were even offered a class in public speaking, and not in a million years would it have occurred to me to take it. I was too damn scared! I had always been terrified to speak up, probably because on many occasions I had been ridiculed or dismissed when doing so. This blog has given me an opportunity to finally begin to express my thoughts and who I am--a little at first, and more and more as I've gone on. Gradually I have summoned up the courage to physically open my mouth as well.
During my recent concerts I have started to communicate with my audience in a whole new way. My speeches, which used to be somewhat of a liability at my concerts, are becoming a way for me to connect with people in an ever deeper way. Dare I say it: my speaking has started to feel to me potentially as powerful as the music itself.
When I was 14 years old, and a big star in my home country Finland, I received a letter from a 12-year-old fan of mine named Riitta, who was in the hospital being treated for terminal cancer. Her wish was that I visit her at the hospital, and sure enough I went--I was honored to be asked. I was probably as shy as she was; I remember our encounter well. Had I not been as socially awkward as I was at that age, I would've liked to spend a lot more time talking to her. And I would have sung more than a mere verse and a chorus...hehe. Our meeting didn't last very long, and unfortunately neither did her life. I received a letter after her death from her mother saying that Riitta talked about me regularly until her passing. Sounds to me like my existence in this world had affected her life as much as hers did mine.
Ever since my encounter with Riitta, I still often think of her. I remember feeling a true sense of purpose after our brief meeting, and since then I have always had a calling to help others, in whatever simple way I can. Public speaking, quite surprisingly, is becoming one way to do that, and I see much more of it in my future. Sometimes the things you fear the most, eventually reward you like nothing else would. Like a dear friend of mine, Robin Morgan, says: "the wall (of fear) is paper mache, not brick." I think she might be right.
Public speaking used to freak me out more than anything else. Even as I've been performing on and off for the last 20 years of my life as a singer, for a long time it scared the hell out of me to say anything between the songs. In the performing arts-high school I attended in Finland, us students were even offered a class in public speaking, and not in a million years would it have occurred to me to take it. I was too damn scared! I had always been terrified to speak up, probably because on many occasions I had been ridiculed or dismissed when doing so. This blog has given me an opportunity to finally begin to express my thoughts and who I am--a little at first, and more and more as I've gone on. Gradually I have summoned up the courage to physically open my mouth as well.
During my recent concerts I have started to communicate with my audience in a whole new way. My speeches, which used to be somewhat of a liability at my concerts, are becoming a way for me to connect with people in an ever deeper way. Dare I say it: my speaking has started to feel to me potentially as powerful as the music itself.
When I was 14 years old, and a big star in my home country Finland, I received a letter from a 12-year-old fan of mine named Riitta, who was in the hospital being treated for terminal cancer. Her wish was that I visit her at the hospital, and sure enough I went--I was honored to be asked. I was probably as shy as she was; I remember our encounter well. Had I not been as socially awkward as I was at that age, I would've liked to spend a lot more time talking to her. And I would have sung more than a mere verse and a chorus...hehe. Our meeting didn't last very long, and unfortunately neither did her life. I received a letter after her death from her mother saying that Riitta talked about me regularly until her passing. Sounds to me like my existence in this world had affected her life as much as hers did mine.
Ever since my encounter with Riitta, I still often think of her. I remember feeling a true sense of purpose after our brief meeting, and since then I have always had a calling to help others, in whatever simple way I can. Public speaking, quite surprisingly, is becoming one way to do that, and I see much more of it in my future. Sometimes the things you fear the most, eventually reward you like nothing else would. Like a dear friend of mine, Robin Morgan, says: "the wall (of fear) is paper mache, not brick." I think she might be right.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Reality vs. "Reality"
“How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg.”
― Abraham Lincoln
Reality is reality. Like a friend of mine says: we can sit and debate about whether the concert was any good, but we can't debate the number of musicians on stage. And yet, I've grown up around many people who have told me, despite my full knowledge otherwise, that there were five musicians on stage, when there clearly were only three. It makes me angry to even write this. When there are enough people around you, telling you whatever lie feels useful to them on any given day, it makes you question your sanity.
And I have questioned my sanity. So many times. But I'm coming to a place in my life where my reality (=reality) is not up for grabs anymore. I see it, I'm in it, it exists. There are facts, there is gravity, there is clarity. And I fucking love it! This is why I am so into science these days--why I'm into astronomy and physics and even math! For a girl who used to be afraid of being sucked up into the sky, even an elementary understanding of gravity is a powerful thing. And by the way, that's how fuzzy reality has been for me at some point.
There is pain in knowing that I can never again trust some people, who I have trusted unconditionally for much of my life. But there is also freedom. It is a heavy load, yes, but I carry it willingly and consciously.
“Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality....I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.”
― Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love"--The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
― Abraham Lincoln
Reality is reality. Like a friend of mine says: we can sit and debate about whether the concert was any good, but we can't debate the number of musicians on stage. And yet, I've grown up around many people who have told me, despite my full knowledge otherwise, that there were five musicians on stage, when there clearly were only three. It makes me angry to even write this. When there are enough people around you, telling you whatever lie feels useful to them on any given day, it makes you question your sanity.
And I have questioned my sanity. So many times. But I'm coming to a place in my life where my reality (=reality) is not up for grabs anymore. I see it, I'm in it, it exists. There are facts, there is gravity, there is clarity. And I fucking love it! This is why I am so into science these days--why I'm into astronomy and physics and even math! For a girl who used to be afraid of being sucked up into the sky, even an elementary understanding of gravity is a powerful thing. And by the way, that's how fuzzy reality has been for me at some point.
There is pain in knowing that I can never again trust some people, who I have trusted unconditionally for much of my life. But there is also freedom. It is a heavy load, yes, but I carry it willingly and consciously.
“Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality....I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.”
― Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love"--The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
Saturday, August 31, 2013
In the past, when something unexpected (and potentially disastrous) has happened, I have tended to react in a way that someone lost in the woods might do: panic and start running. Apparently, that is the worst thing you can do when you get lost. According to REI.com, the best plan of action would be to remember this acronym, favored by the Emergency Response Institute of Olympia, Washington: S-T-O-P.: Stop, Think, Observe and Plan. Here is the first step:
"Stop: If you feel uncomfortable with your situation, don't go any farther. Don't panic, either. Young or inexperienced backcountry travelers should be taught to stay put once they feel lost. "Hug a tree" is familiar, and worthwhile, advice. The rule changes if the area is unsafe or someone in your group needs medical attention. Count to 10, drink some water or eat a little food. These acts often give you a fresh perspective and help you better assess your situation."
In the last couple of days, "Stop" is exactly what I've done. I have paused to gather my wits and to calm myself down, making sure I don't run off in the wrong direction. I am hugging my equivalent of a tree and I feel more balanced than I ever have in a challenging situation such as this. Think, Observe and Plan come next, when I'm ready.
Life is like this sometimes: just when you've made progress in one area, suddenly a new, seemingly even larger challenge appears on the horizon; as if it was deemed I was somehow ready for it. And I want to say: goddamn it I am not ready!!! No one seems to be listening.
In my experience these days, there are only rare moments in which to consolidate information and experiences. Most of the time life moves forward like in a vintage 80's Super Mario-videogame: no going back. The fucking screen chases you from behind and keeps gaining, and if you stop, you're dead. I realize I'm mixing my metaphors here.... Stopping to hug a tree and then running to keep up with the game. Well, both are true. Life is not simple enough to keep my metaphors in check. So. Let's just say that I paused the game for a bit to consult my manual. I will continue momentarily.
"Stop: If you feel uncomfortable with your situation, don't go any farther. Don't panic, either. Young or inexperienced backcountry travelers should be taught to stay put once they feel lost. "Hug a tree" is familiar, and worthwhile, advice. The rule changes if the area is unsafe or someone in your group needs medical attention. Count to 10, drink some water or eat a little food. These acts often give you a fresh perspective and help you better assess your situation."
In the last couple of days, "Stop" is exactly what I've done. I have paused to gather my wits and to calm myself down, making sure I don't run off in the wrong direction. I am hugging my equivalent of a tree and I feel more balanced than I ever have in a challenging situation such as this. Think, Observe and Plan come next, when I'm ready.
Life is like this sometimes: just when you've made progress in one area, suddenly a new, seemingly even larger challenge appears on the horizon; as if it was deemed I was somehow ready for it. And I want to say: goddamn it I am not ready!!! No one seems to be listening.
In my experience these days, there are only rare moments in which to consolidate information and experiences. Most of the time life moves forward like in a vintage 80's Super Mario-videogame: no going back. The fucking screen chases you from behind and keeps gaining, and if you stop, you're dead. I realize I'm mixing my metaphors here.... Stopping to hug a tree and then running to keep up with the game. Well, both are true. Life is not simple enough to keep my metaphors in check. So. Let's just say that I paused the game for a bit to consult my manual. I will continue momentarily.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Sometimes positive experiences can be harder to stomach than the negative ones. Being around healthy people doing healthy things in a healthy way can make me feel more alone than when I'm in the company of people who are struggling in one way or another. And yet, more than anything in the world, I yearn to be healthy and strong. I want to be able to remain the Janita I know myself to be, no matter who enters the room. Nevertheless it still feels like when I'm alone in the room with another person, there are three of us present: he/she, me and the shit I'm dealing with.
I just returned from a wonderful 3-day-vacation in Long Island, where I was paddle boarding, kayaking (for the first time), swimming and having an otherwise lovely time with absolutely lovely people. What for most people would be an awesome little vacation, ends up being quite a bit of work for me. Let me explain. My instinct is to isolate (because I can be anxious and awkward around people), or let loose by drinking alcohol. Being that I no longer drink, and I'm surrounded by nice people who I love, neither is an option. In this situation it is my job to learn to connect, to hang out, to have conversations, to be present. I can't tell you what a challenge this is for me! It feels like I'm using all my concentration and effort just to seem normal. And yet, I know I'm doing so much better in these situations than I ever have. I'm getting better, and it's obvious. Unloading shit just takes time.
A morning dove had made a nest right on top of a doorway at the beach house I stayed at over the last few days. It seemed like an unlikely spot for a nest, seeing as there was quite a bit of traffic as we all went in and out of the area. Every time I passed through that door I looked at the mother-bird, who was eyeing all of us intently. We all grew quite fond of her and ended up naming her the posh, English name Margaret Daisy due to her Morning Dove-initials.
Perhaps a bit sappy, but I think about Margaret Daisy now as a metaphor for my own life. I'm in the middle of quite a bit of traffic, as I'm trying to nurture something fragile: my sanity and my health. The job that I've chosen as a person who likes to isolate and has addictive tendencies is not the easiest. But like Margaret Daisy, I've surrounded myself with good people who I can trust, (even if we're both still eyeing them suspiciously...). Also like M.D., I have a roof over my head and a sense of serious purpose.
Below, are two pictures of Margaret Daisy and her eggs. I could make this ending superbly gooey by comparing her eggs to beautiful things I am hoping to hatch in my own life. But of course I won't. That would be supremely cheesy indeed.
I just returned from a wonderful 3-day-vacation in Long Island, where I was paddle boarding, kayaking (for the first time), swimming and having an otherwise lovely time with absolutely lovely people. What for most people would be an awesome little vacation, ends up being quite a bit of work for me. Let me explain. My instinct is to isolate (because I can be anxious and awkward around people), or let loose by drinking alcohol. Being that I no longer drink, and I'm surrounded by nice people who I love, neither is an option. In this situation it is my job to learn to connect, to hang out, to have conversations, to be present. I can't tell you what a challenge this is for me! It feels like I'm using all my concentration and effort just to seem normal. And yet, I know I'm doing so much better in these situations than I ever have. I'm getting better, and it's obvious. Unloading shit just takes time.
A morning dove had made a nest right on top of a doorway at the beach house I stayed at over the last few days. It seemed like an unlikely spot for a nest, seeing as there was quite a bit of traffic as we all went in and out of the area. Every time I passed through that door I looked at the mother-bird, who was eyeing all of us intently. We all grew quite fond of her and ended up naming her the posh, English name Margaret Daisy due to her Morning Dove-initials.
Perhaps a bit sappy, but I think about Margaret Daisy now as a metaphor for my own life. I'm in the middle of quite a bit of traffic, as I'm trying to nurture something fragile: my sanity and my health. The job that I've chosen as a person who likes to isolate and has addictive tendencies is not the easiest. But like Margaret Daisy, I've surrounded myself with good people who I can trust, (even if we're both still eyeing them suspiciously...). Also like M.D., I have a roof over my head and a sense of serious purpose.
Below, are two pictures of Margaret Daisy and her eggs. I could make this ending superbly gooey by comparing her eggs to beautiful things I am hoping to hatch in my own life. But of course I won't. That would be supremely cheesy indeed.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
It took me a little while to figure out why I was feeling so shitty today, but I finally got it. I'm simply feeling sad. I'm grieving. I'm still so unused to allowing myself to feel my feelings, that I find it hard to recognize them. I'm getting quicker though. Today it took me a bit more than an hour. In the past it used to take weeks. Years actually. Plus I needed help. Now I can figure it out on my own.
As I was walking through Prospect Park, coming back from the library this afternoon, I watched people setting up their barbeque/picnic spreads, with 90's-style sunny R&B tunes blasting in the background. You know the type where some Jamaican dude comes on every once in a while and does a feel-good rap-bit. Man, I so couldn't relate. It reminded me of a woman who approached me a couple of years back after my record-release show. (A show I am still very proud of..) She suggested to me after my performance that I should write happier songs. I can't remember my reply. I probably just felt uncomfortable.. If I could travel back in time into that situation right now, my reply would be this: I can't. And frankly, I don't want to.
But that was then. Recently, I do find myself searching for happier chords on my guitar. It feels good to realize that there's a natural evolution that happens in songwriting, that mirrors the emotional terrain one is exploring at any given time. The album that I'm recording right now has some seriously dark, hypnotic moods, and I feel thrilled about the prospect of performing them. It feels honest, it feels real. And dark doesn't necessarily mean depressing. It can be powerful and uplifting to some. It certainly is to me.
I've come from a dark place, but it doesn't mean that I am a dark person. I just feel compelled to express my emotions honestly while I have them. Tomorrow my emotions will change and evolve, and then I will create something different. Perhaps happier songs will come, but they will come in their own time.
Today, I will honor my sadness, although it is not my intention to wallow in it. I'm making myself my favorite comfort food: mashed potatoes, and I may even drink a hot chocolate afterwards. If you knew me well, you would know that that's some serious self-soothing right there.
“Tears are words that need to be written.”
― Paulo Coelho
As I was walking through Prospect Park, coming back from the library this afternoon, I watched people setting up their barbeque/picnic spreads, with 90's-style sunny R&B tunes blasting in the background. You know the type where some Jamaican dude comes on every once in a while and does a feel-good rap-bit. Man, I so couldn't relate. It reminded me of a woman who approached me a couple of years back after my record-release show. (A show I am still very proud of..) She suggested to me after my performance that I should write happier songs. I can't remember my reply. I probably just felt uncomfortable.. If I could travel back in time into that situation right now, my reply would be this: I can't. And frankly, I don't want to.
But that was then. Recently, I do find myself searching for happier chords on my guitar. It feels good to realize that there's a natural evolution that happens in songwriting, that mirrors the emotional terrain one is exploring at any given time. The album that I'm recording right now has some seriously dark, hypnotic moods, and I feel thrilled about the prospect of performing them. It feels honest, it feels real. And dark doesn't necessarily mean depressing. It can be powerful and uplifting to some. It certainly is to me.
I've come from a dark place, but it doesn't mean that I am a dark person. I just feel compelled to express my emotions honestly while I have them. Tomorrow my emotions will change and evolve, and then I will create something different. Perhaps happier songs will come, but they will come in their own time.
Today, I will honor my sadness, although it is not my intention to wallow in it. I'm making myself my favorite comfort food: mashed potatoes, and I may even drink a hot chocolate afterwards. If you knew me well, you would know that that's some serious self-soothing right there.
“Tears are words that need to be written.”
― Paulo Coelho
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