Why can't I be a 30 year old pop star?

For those who know me, and know me well you'll all agree that I have what some might call the "DIVA" in me. However, as I come ever so much closer to that pivotal three O birthday mark I have to stop and wonder...can I still be a 30 year old pop star? Now I'll begin with the fact that, I know, I am not currently a pop star by any stretch of the imagination (except maybe to a few Queens in Boston...but that's another story entirely) but should I have to "give up the ghost" as my time line creeps higher and higher age-wise? We've all heard the "Madonna is looking a little tired" arguments (and I've even made them myself) but look at people like Britney, Christina, Fergie, Beyonce, Alicia Keys, Usher, Justin Timberlake etc etc etc. Are they any LESS relevant because they are sharing the pop charts with the likes of the barely post-pubescent Beibers and Swifts of the world? Granted most of these stars got their start wielding Mickey Mouse ears or strutting on Star Search in the 80's...so my big question is: Is it too late for a gal like me to "get in the game?" (Please no Susan Boyle references...I'm not THAT old yet) Now granted, I'd rather fit into the Amy Winehouse mold (alcoholism aside) than the Britney mold...eh screw it...who am I kidding...if someone were to hand me Britney's career on platter I would take it without question (head shaving/marriages in Vegas aside). I've always said I wanted to be "drag queen famous" ... the kind of fame, or should I say infamy, in which drag queens everywhere are clamoring to buy Leah Canali wigs and painstakingly painting on my tattoos night after night to lip sync to my voice. Now THAT is fame! Unfortunately, as life tends to go, I'm more exhausted than fabulous most days now so how in a world where we have to work to live do we put the fabulous back in the equation? Is this even attainable or do I need to drop my fabulous standards (please lord noooo)? I think my first stop needs to be "reattain pop star level fitness" ... let's face it...when the body looks good the mind feels better. I also believe a lot of my woes have to do with lack of motivation and inspiration. I'd like to be able to grab hold of more of both of those "ations" in my life.

Here's my ultimate question internet? Is it possible to be a first time 30 year old pop star? (and please oohhh please tell me the only answer isn't The Voice or X-Factor or Toddlers and Tiaras or Jerseyrealworldhousewives or whateveeerrrrrr...my almost 30 year old heart can't take it)

Top 5 reasons why I still love Michael Phelps

Ok ok...I know this isn't a popular opinion amongst my North American comrades (American and Canadian alike) but YES I still love Michael Phelps. I just can't help myself. I'm a sucker for an amazing Olympic moment and let's face it...that boy has many. He shouldn't need to prove anything. He's DONE THAT. So why the hate America?

Before I bore you with more Pro-Phelp's propaganda I'll get right to it. THE TOP 5 REASONS I STILL LOVE MICHAEL PHELPS: 5. He's a total mama's boy. Can't get enough of his adorable mumma looking on proudly in the stands. I bet she wears sweat shirts with his face on it when she goes to her Curves workouts and knitting bees. 4. The kid has more Olympic gelt than most Chanukah celebrations. He has more medals than 148 COUNTRIES?! Are you KIDDING ME? He could pawn more than half of them and still have more than most people will win in a lifetime. (I understand swimming gives more of an opportunity to win just based on the amount of races there are but it isn't Phelps's fault everyone else decided to be good at sports you only get one medal for...no it's not your fault at all baby) 3. Abs. Let's face it, this could have been #'s 1-5 but I figured my argument needed more variety. Moving on... 2. His surly 'ttude. Yep that's right...I love it. Who says you have to want to talk to the press ALL the time?! I love Svetlana Khorkina for having the best stank face in all of gymnastics and I love that Phelps wears his emotions (good and bad) on his face. So do I Michael...so do I. 1. The men's 200 free relay (2012) anchor position. This race was almost better than sex for me. Breaking the all time record with an anchor position in a GOLD MEDAL winning relay. And yeah I know the other guys put him in front but he KEPT THEM there (unlike cough Lockte cough in the 400m. I like you just fine Lockte...you just don't hold a place in my heart like Phelps. It's like comparing Jordan to Lebron...you haven't earned it yet baby) Phelps just said BOOSH to the haters. I wish Jill Scott would literally follow him around the pool and sing "Hate on me Haters" after every race. The guy is one flipper away from being a real life merman. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love half aquatic half humanoid creatures. I'm sure many people would disagree with me about this issue. Frankly, my dear, I just don't give a damn. Phelps is a legend. Like him or not you cannot deny that. He is quite literally, the greatest Olympian of all time. Point. Set. Swim. (Side note: he's retiring after these Olympics...I totally respect that. Go out on top booboo. Can't wait for your terrible commentating in 2016...or for me to eat these words and watch you "un-retire" like Jay-Z. The ball is totally in your pool here.)

Average Day Blues

Ever have one of those days that is so completely average it sends you into a whirlwind of "what am I doing with my life" ivity? Those days when you wake up from an average amount of sleep, to go to your average day job, and eat average food...hell the weather is even just average. I would gladly take thunderstorms over "blah". This sort of mundane state the day has found itself in has also put me in state of complete "meh" or "blarg" if you will . Even this blog isn't particularly enlightening or entertaining...it's simply something to do with my hands while I muscle through this totally "non-day". The problem with these sorts of days is that they afford a lot of mind wandering time. Not great when you're already feeling pretty dowdy these days. Unfortunately, I have been feeling fairly "average" about most of the work I have been doing of late. There seems to be some sort of perception curve that switched on in my brain that says "You're simply not that great at very many things...you're "ok" at some, passable at others...but not great". I am extremely grateful to be finally making it a go of it singing career wise but lately I have been feeling more self doubt than ever before. This could be a product of over stretching myself, or the weather, or my period or a whole other host of emotional and or situational reasons but the fact remains it's pretty much a constant feeling. Before I bore you (those of you who actually read this stuff) with a big long blog pity party I will sign off with this thought. I think I have become Eeyore. That's right, the adorable, melancholy, constantly losing his tail (in my case my keys) average stuffed donkey of our childhood. So I guess...if you read this..."thanks for noticing me" ...

Grammy inspiration

Sometimes it takes momentous occasions for change to occur. I'm not speaking of slight change or even great overt change but a deeper, truer more organic change. A core shift. Winehouse was a blow to my heart, Etta was worse but Whitney...well what can I say about it other than life changing. When I think of an artist like Whitney Houston I not only see their breadth of work I see the humanity that lies beneath it. I think of her not only as a legend but as a living breathing, flawed and beautiful human being. The term "voice of God" gets thrown around a lot in this industry. I've heard Aretha described this way on more than one occasion and now the honor is bestowed on our most recent fallen soldier. (I won't even get into the fact that this title is most often linked to powerful female voices...that's a whole other blog completely). If Whitney is truly the voice of some other worldly power I can only say thank you. Thank you for giving her to us while you did. Thank you for letting us watch her glorious triumph and her soul shattering struggle. It's people like Whitney and Winehouse that remind us that talent is a blessing and a curse but that is it 100% ok to be HUMAN...to make mistakes and keep going.

When I think of Whitney Houston I think of myself at age 7 trying valiantly to in any small way recreate the sounds that came from her soul, her voice. I'm sure there are thousands of other little girls who can say the same thing. As I grew, truth be told, I was always more of a Mariah girl however like a guiding light to everyone Whitney remains a beckoning call for all vocalists. An impossible legacy to try to chase down but one completely worth the journey. There are some people who are clearly meant from birth to do what it is that they do. Whitney was certainly one of them. How could you hear that voice and not instantly think "wow". There are things that woman could do with her talent that no one has done or will ever do again. THIS is why we celebrate her. For being perfectly flawed and yet at other times just simply perfect. Think of how many weddings, first dances, first kisses, last kisses etc etc where shared to the voice of that woman. The ethereal quality of her being is undeniable.

I could go on forever speaking about this. I will leave you with the feeling I was left with after watching last night. A feeling that I want better for myself...that we should always strive for greatness no matter the pitfalls. I know that I have a lot of growing to do, musically and emotionally and I can't keep sitting by and thinking it's just going to happen. I need to become that little 7 year old belting Whitney Houston songs in her bedroom again. I need to go back to a time when no one said don't and I never said can't. Thank you Whitney for reminding me of my passion.

In death just like in life you are the star of the show.

Bus stop misfits

This post is dedicated to two young ladies who ride the bus with me in the morning. While I am headed to my joe job, they are most likely heading to high school. Dun dun dun... Normally I don't make it a point of observing teenage girls but these two remind me so damned much of me when I was that age I can't help but be intrigued. One is tall and gawky, the kind of girl that you know will be pretty when she grows into herself. The other short and solid, big head of curly hair, wears "Cat in the Hat" converse shoes every day and looks like the kind of girl who experiment with her sexuality later in life...if you catch my drift. The two of them are just so damned adorable I can't stand it. As a former high school misfit myself I feel a kinship with these young ladies. It's like looking into a mirror of myself from the past. I almost want to sweep them up in a big group hug and let them know it'll all be ok. Being the misfit also means you're generally the most interesting person in the room. Teenagers can't take interesting people. Seriously, think about it. Take a minute and think about the popular kids from your high school. How boring were/are they?! Having just been dragged kicking and screaming to my 10 year high school reunion I can assure you it's true. Not to say that these people aren't good people and that the wounds of high school treachery don't scab over with time but yeah...snooze. Although I might not have chosen the most conventional of lives I can be thankful life is never dull (even when it is if you catch my drift.) I want to let these girls know that they will find extreme satisfaction later in life when they realize they are, in fact, now the cool kids. So here's to you little ones...keep being you...

Happy birthday Jo!

Sometimes all you need to kick start yourself into doing something is the validation that someone else enjoys it. This entry is for my girl Joanna Mohammed who tonight (albiet probably drunkenly) asked me if I was still blogging and told me she thought I should because she enjoyed reading it. So thank you girl for getting me off my butt to start writing anew. If this birthday is a proper one you should in no way remember having this little convo with me but I appreciate it none the less. Knowing something you do is valued, even in the smallest way, is the greatest gratification. So here's to you Jo. Happy birthday! (P.S. You, Marla, Francois, Claire and the rest of The Diggs make Usher and Rihanna sound like tone deaf turds...you killed it!)