Make Yourself...

"If I hadn't made me I would have fallen apart by now.  I won't let them make me, it's more than I can allow. So when I make me I won't be paper mache.  Make yourself."   Brandon Boyd

I learned to accept the startling sound of a high pressure car wash as my early morning alarm clock. Oh the ungodly hours in which the fine citizens of LA will begin scrubbing their convertibles! ( 7 am to be exact)   No ordinary car wash, this was an extra busy trendy spotless spot right off Lincoln Blvd and just a block from Chauncy's house.

Wild sandy blond curls and surfer shorts, Chauncy was an L.A. transplant just like the rest of us. Thank god she had acquired not only a super cute beach house in Venice, but also a huge crush on my band's drummer. She was the girl who had made it possible for us to stay in LA after wrapping up a west coast tour by letting us park our huge white van and trailer in front of her beach pad.  At least three of us would sleep in the van at night while the others would crash on her floor and couch.  It was truly a rock god send and a chance for us to breath for a minute while getting jobs and a few steps closer to our dream.  Chauncy was bare feet, gypsy heart and hippie chic.  I guess it made sense that she loved our Oklahoma small town big dreams and wide eyed vibe.  All I know is I really loved being able to take a shower every day and the fact that she shared her Paul Mitchell hair products with me was a huge luxury.  Win.

Every  night I fell asleep on the back van seat just beneath the glaring corner street light. Staring up at it gave me a sense of security while at the same time a twinge of fear.  Remembering that band guys were each on the two other bench seats over (and much closer to the front doors)  made it all ok again.  I spent a lot of time envisioning all the great things ahead for us, holding tight to high hopes with talent, music and sheer will.  I was filled with optimism for all the positive things we had going.  That's how it is in life, you either choose to be a believer or you don't.  For better or worse,  I've always chosen to believe.

Mornings were a total circus show as we all tried to get ready for our different job destinations while rummaging through suitcases in our van/house.  My new job was on the Santa Monica Promenade selling LUCKY Brand jeans to soccer moms pushing designer baby carriages.  A job with a lot of flexibility for gig nights and a lot of folding.  I was the third one to be dropped off, right after the 6 am Starbucks band mates.  Ahhh the unbreakable spirit of team work.

Huge wooden ladders lined shelves of folded denim. Shelves stacked all the way up to the ceiling. While staring at the ladders one morning I suddenly heard, "this job sucks and you'll start to hate those sliding wooden ladders with all your guts.  You'll climb them fifteen times for one customer who will NOT be able to decide which style number makes her ass look smaller.  You'll hate her too." ahhhh Sara!

Sara was a total tomboy.  A Chicago native she came to LA to escape the harsh winters and the, "endless grey" as she called it. Dating a semi pro skateboarder, she looked like a walking ad for Hurley in over sized tees and baggy jeans.  On break Sara would walk me to all the hot eatery spots on the promenade while telling me about her many A -List sightings since living in Cali. One day she told me how she had once seen Brandon Boyd writing in a notebook outside of  our store on a park bench.

 "I've seen him there twice, but it's been a while. He's usually in a dark beanie and he just sits there alone."
What, Brandon Boyd?  As in the lead singer of Incubus?  As in one of my favorite lyricists of all time...the one whose artistic and passionate lyrical approach inspired me to not fear my own imagery and to trust my dream? I didn't believe her. She was definitely trippin.  Why would Brandon Boyd choose such a busy consumer style place to write and why would it be in front of a denim store without an ocean view?  He could literally write in the most beautiful hidden beach spots of  Malibu or the world for that matter.  Yeh ok great story, but whatever.

Fast forward 2 weeks later.  7 am, early morning denim meeting. Barely light outside. As I step one foot out of the van, I see him walking toward the grey metal park bench directly in front of the store. Dark beanie, simple tee and jeans and the tell tale red tattoo on his forearm.   Whoa, Sara wasn't hallucinating after all. Setting down, he opened his notepad and stared ahead.  I wondered if this had been his lucky bench? The lucky bench in front of LUCKY?  It made me giggle inside, but it was also so thrilling. I thought of his notepad as pure magic while watching his pen carve out letters of gold.   Had he written Pardon Me here? Maybe my favorite roller coaster line from Wish you were here? As my brain ran through an Iron Man worthy obstacle course of what ifs I tried to carry on with a normal denim morning. I never mentioned to one co-worker that he was outside.   I figured I owed him that much after all the great songs he had shared with me, ok and the rest of the world.
About an hour later he got up and walked away.

Ok so I'm not gonna lie.  I totally ran to the bench and sit where he had been sitting as soon as my break time rolled around.  Ooo what does it take to get from here to there,  I thought.  How do I write the words that touch another person so deeply, how do I turn my little notebook into magic too? 

As I sat there I watched the crowds go by.
Moms with strollers, babies and nannies. Parents and siblings, friends and foreigners. Grandparents and kiddos.  Husbands, wives, Lovers. Teens, talkers, singers, dancers and whistlers. Homeless people pushing shopping carts filled with garbage alongside girls drenched in jewels and designer purses. Men in three piece suits and dudes in baseball caps and khakis. Average people on their way to work in every color of the rainbow and more, doing the daily grind and carefree tourists with no deadlines on their mind.   I suddenly realized that while sitting on that bench I had a front row ticket to    L I F E.

"Sometimes I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear and I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear take the wheel and steer.  It's driven me before, it seems to have a vague haunting mass appeal.  Lately I'm beginning to find that I should be the one behind the wheel.  Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open arms and open eyes."   DRIVE    Brandon Boyd

Wishing you unwavering courage to
make
yourself.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

Birdee Bow