A sit in the park

So, I decided I needed a bit of nature today so I found a nice spot of dry rock in Central Park to sit on. Every place else was wet, and some parts of the park were even flooded from this weekend's rainstorm. The rock was cold, but feeling the low temperature on my rear kept me connected with the earth. I can't remember at what point in the day the cause of my emotional distress became clear, but I remember sitting in the park contemplating it and feeling my pain. It turns out that moving wasn't the real cause of my sadness and grief. This is an old sadness I've been feeling. I realized today that my life is not the life I want for myself. Not only that, but I can recall few moments from my recent past where my life was exactly what I wanted in those moments, but generally speaking, I spend more time, energy and effort trying to create for myself the life that I want and deserve. I don't really want to be living in New York, but I felt called to move here, so I did. A lot of the major decisions in my life that I make are based on "the call" that most artists have inside them. Like a telephone, it rings from inside, and we answer. The voice on the other end tells us what to do next, and we do it. It's a system of faith. If we follow the instructions, it will lead us to our destinies. But in the meanwhile, we (or I) have to live a life I am not satisfied with. I have to wait for what it is that I want. Continuously. And unfortunately, the world is unsympathetically going about it's business. I realize it would be arrogant to assume I'm the ONLY one in waiting for something better, but I am actively making sacrifices. If the recipe for my ideal life isn't right, I have to empty the pot and start over. Now I have an empty pot which leaves me with the overwhelming reminder that my life is not how I want it. I had to throw out the things I came so close to acheiving. So I am at a point where I feel that I have no control over my own life. Despite my best efforts at creating the life that is right for me, I failed somewhere. Otherwise, I would have my life. Instead, I'm sitting by trying to figure out where I'm going to get the money for my next audition, for new headshots, for voice lessons, while people my age and younger had some benevolent being who took them under their wings and guided them into my dream. The one where they are performing as soloists, receiving audition announcements from their agents, and they don't have to have headshots because everyone in the business knows who they are. Despite my beautiful voice, I'm lucky to have some company invite me to sing even if they can't pay me. I'm worth so much more than that. I am worth living my dream...

so God, Higher Being, Spirit, Universe, how much longer do I have to cry before you hear my sobs, or taste my tears. People tell me my time will come, but even as I sit here and listen to someone performing a Mozart piano concerto, I wonder if you would rather have everyone else share their gifts with the world and share in your glory (as a soloist of course... don't know why you still can't seem to grasp that concept), while I get to have my gift surrounded by sludge, phlegm (pneumonia), tar and feathers, and other blockages and obstacles. F- you! I have to move because your special and retarded children in San Francisco can't seem to open their crossed eyes and unclog their wax filled ears and recognize my potential? You created them so I blame you. You didn't respond to the simplest of prayers: "Please open their minds and hearts to the music that I will bring to them. Please make them receptive so I can heal them through the gift you gave to me." Had you answered my prayer, these people would be BEGGING me for more, and I want to heal the world through my voice. Don't know why you wouldn't want that. I guess you enjoy seeing people shooting each other and inflicting harm, but God forbid I should have the life that I want... the one where I get to heal mass amounts of people through my solo voice... to bring peace in a world of chaos... and yet YOU deny the world and me that sacred privilege. You are a cruel One. Why do you need me here at all if you allow the countless others to do what I was born to do? It is clear you have no purpose or path for me other than to take up space and air. I ask you repeatedly to show me the way, and yet, you do not show me. I guess there is nothing there. I look, I seek, and yet there is nothing. You are the most mute Being ever. You are the most blind and deaf as well. I could probably get more direction from Helen Keller. At least she could give me signs. I guess you are too busy helping the less talented ones with their busy schedules. I think that Andrea Bocelli is double-booked somewhere. But I'm sure you're already on top of that one. You probably feel guilty for making him blind.

Ok, I need to stop writing now. I'm getting too wound up, and it is time for bed.