Adventures of a Homebody #1 - UBC Operation Smile Club
January 18, 2015
Let's face it: Facebook stalking has pretty much become normal.
One simply needs a handful of minutes to blow, a mild curiosity, and a reasonable excu...
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December 12, 2012
When I was in high school I used to daydream about being a musician. These daydreams featured an older, slimmer, more sophisticated me striding into a high class cafe with my guitar.
I would greet the baristas with familiarity, set up my equipment gracefully, and then sing my heart out to a full house, who would listen attentively as they sipped their Caramel Macchiatos or Soy Milk Lattes.
Several years ago, I started a YouTube channel, and last summer I had the opportunity to perform at a cafe called Bean & Beyond Cafe Bistro in Steveston.
But last Tuesday, I attended a workshop for independent musicians aspiring to get some radio airplay. According to the notification email I had received prior, there were to be three panelists from different Vancouver stations: CBC Radio 3, The Peak 102.7 and CiTR 101.9.
They would talk about how they selected music for their stations, and what characteristics they looked for in bands. As a member of my campus radio station, I was also assured that attendance would be free. How could I possibly pass this opportunity?
So, armed with my iPad, thermos of tea, and my Italian notes (I planned to study on the bus) I boarded the Canada Line determined to find my destiny. I had to use the GPS on my apple product to find my way, and I assume I must have looked somewhat like a frightened tourist, braving the rainy sidewalks all on my lonesome. Eventually, I found my destination - The Railway Club.
The sky was beginning to turn a darker shade of grey as I pushed open the door, plastered with posters, and climbed the steep narrow staircase to a dim room lighted with red Christmas lights.
There was a small stage at the back, and a handful of occupants. A girl with large glasses and a tentative smile seemed friendly so I went to sit near her.
Half an hour later, the room was nearly full. There were a lot of men who looked like they had either emerged from the depths of a basement or stumbled out of the woods. It was a collection of impressive beards, cotton toques, impenetrable bangs and lumberjack shirts.
As the panelists progressed through their explanations, life stories and pet peeves, I grew acutely aware of the fact that I didn't belong. They talked about the commitment, the self-promotion, the midnight shows, the greasy jobs, the slow climb up the ladder. and I caught a glimpse of a lifestyle very different from the one I had imagined.
I don't doubt that for some people, this deal would be incredibly fitting. But sitting there, on that moth eaten sofa surrounded by true hipsters, garage bands and rock stars, I just felt like a small, naïve dreamer who was up past her bed time. And as they drank their alcoholic beverages, I warmed my hands around my thermos of orange pekoe tea.
It's rather disconcerting to dream of something for a good portion of your life only to realize that maybe there's no pot of gold waiting for you on the other side.