I am disabled and live on the government's dole and have done so for decades. I was disabled by an assault when I was 22. I spent my time as a homeless person and thanked God for life on a day of hunger and biting cold. That helped me have gratitude regardless of the circumstances I might find myself in. Ok, so that makes me a cream puff but it also makes me defiant in the face of adversity.
Do I have a rich dream life, a fantasy world where I am one of the rich and famous? Well duh. It keeps me sane. It also inspires me and helps me to create. I have created not one but hundreds of fantasy worlds. And hopefully one day I will profit from them. In the meantime they keep me from being bored. I started writing fantasy when I was in my teens. I had a three hundred page outline ( started at age 15 ) which was accidently lost when I was 18. So after that I abandoned fantasy writing for almost a decade.
I concentrated on poetry ( starving, as my dad once told me I would ) and dancing. You don't get hired as a dancer if you dance to melodic hard rock and wear clothes but the flame of dance ate me up for 11 years until I gained weight and told myself I was no longer a dancer. Ok, I am still a dancer though weight gain, age and arthritis might mock my love of movement and music. I do not have the fantasy of stages to dance upon as I once did in my youth. That is one fantasy which has bitten the dust because of a reality check that I made years ago. I had satisfied myself with what I did creatively as a dancer. A former student of Isadora Duncan once approached me in the Panhandle of Golden Gate Park. She had seen me dance and she told me I reminded her of her teacher. So what if I was not world famous as a dancer? I had my day. The memories of dancing will stay with me as I grow older. And they are good memories.
After I was disabled I eventually got on SSI. Within a year I began to start writing fantasy again. It had originally been to mainly create a world and its history. I could not afford a typewriter or I would buy some old upright behemoth at a yard sale for ten bucks but would not have the money to have it repaired.
Then in 1985 I was hit by car while on a bicycle. I was 36. I was thinking of learning to use a word processor at the time and when I went to see about learning it I had PTSD of the car hitting me again. I was injured with neuritis in my left hand ( I am left handed ) and as a result of the injury could no longer type on a manual typewriter without horrible pain. The result of this was a world of frustration and overwhelming depression. One day I was listening to the radio and starting singing along to whatever song was on it ( I don't remember the song even though it impacted my life dramatically ). Voila! That triggered songwriting as singing brought me joy.
Initially the songwriting was something to get me out of my funk of depression but, like many things creative, it took on a life of its own. In 1989, at the age of 40, I moved to Hollywood, that neon district of Los Angeles, shining bright with stars and limelights, which I hoped might have my name on them at some point. I sang a cappella at open mikes and pleaded for an accompanist that never showed up. Squirrelly young men made passes at me which was annoying rather than complimenting.
I continued with my fantasy writing ( still in longhand, for the most part ) and scribbled out thousands of songs. From 1985 to 2009 I have written over 9300 songs and some of them ( stroke, stroke --- here is when I pat myself on the back ) are pretty darn good if I must say so myself and of course I will. Others have told me how good I am. Which is lovely but I am still poor and unknown.
I was/am poor, disabled, with no transportation, not so young ( ok, downright old in the eyes of the cruel and fickle world ) and not a size zero. But heck, I could make em shut up and give me pin drop silence at a noisy little Irish pub. I could make strangers come up to me and say "Beautiful" about my songs.
In 1994 I fell on some stairs right after the Northridge quake which triggered the pre-existing condition ( I had convulsions from a twisted neck after the assault in 71 ). I am still spasmodic and have arthritis in not only my upper where the twisted neck pinched a nerve but also in my dancing legs and feet ( left knee, left ankle ). Sometimes I live with nasty pain. It is not always easy for me to get around. I walk with a cane. And riding on buses can trigger the spasms.
I just turned 60 this last month. My friends and strangers tell me that I look about 45 or even younger. That is nice. I think it is defiance that keeps me young. It is never letting the dreams die that keeps me young. I am 60 years old and I still want to be a rock star. I have over 9000 songs and some of them are really good. I have a beautiful soprano voice and the experience to growl or purr or sing a lullaby.
I am a late bloomer and a Pollyanna with an attitude. I will never say never. I will continue to have the dream. And one day I hope and I pray that my dream of self reliance, whether it come from my singing or from my writings, will see itself becoming reality. In the meantime I will never say never. I will remain defiant. And when ( I refuse to allow "if" into my vocabulary concerning this issue ) my little ship finally comes into the harbor, I will swim out to greet it and sing it a song to guide it safely to shore.
SAC
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