My not-so-secret love affair.

I am in love.

I should rephrase that.

I am madly in love.

I am so madly in love that all of my thoughts are consumed by it, and daily tasks take longer for me to complete because every few moments I am jarred out of reality by this love.

It is a love that has the power to make me happier than most things in this world. It takes me to a different plane of this life. It wakes me in the middle of the night, not out of fear or stress or woe. It gently wakes me in the night, to remind me of the love that is shared.

This love, dear friends is a love for cycling. Biking. Cruising the mean, mean streets on my two-wheeled vehicle of justice. And love.

                                             Just me and the open road - er - multi-use trail.


This is no spring/summer fling, however. It is a bit more of a slow burn. The last few years I have been becoming more and more attracted to cycling. It started when I was living in downtown Edmonton, and busing or driving to work was a costly, costly venture. I got a bike, and started my lil commute to work. Only a matter of about 10 blocks or so, but it was great. I started to explore the river valley systems, and was taken by the amazing beauty that was within our fair city from the view of a bicycle.

One sunny summer day in 2009, that bike was stolen from my backyard. I was crushed. But, as my weird luck would have it, I saw my bike at a busy intersection downtown later that day being held by a very sketchy looking man sans shirt. I walked up to him, told him "THAT'S MY BIKE" over and over again, very loudly, to which he got a little angry with me. I grabbed my bicycle slowly, not unlike trying to take a piece of raw meat from a dog. I kept my gaze firm. The crossing light lit up, and I said to him very calmly (almost eery now that I think about it) "I am going to take my bike now." To which he replied loudly "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM" and I said "No, but my name is Lindsey." I got my bike back.

And that is where my unrelenting love for cycling officially began.

Fast forward a few years, and I have gone through many bicycles. At last count, I have had 4 stolen (not including the one I got back - but she was a little worse for wear to ride around after that), two break down beyond repair, and one that was parked outside of the UofA hospital overnight and had everything except for it's frame and back tire stolen. Thaaaaaaaaanks, guys.

Add to that a few wipe outs and accidents (the most scary/hilarious/strange was when I was riding home from the LRT with a bag of boots I had just bought, when the bag got lodged in the front tire and I flipped over my handlebars. Who was there to witness that and save me and my bike by driving us home? None other than Edmonton's first lady, bike enthusiast and generally awesome woman, Sarah Chan. She saw me at my worst, bloody faced and in shock. It was a great moment.), and I am still going strong. I recently had my father ship me a bicycle from Winnipeg that my grandfather refurbished for me. She is my true love. I ride that bike EVERYWHERE. It's a 30km return trip to the music school I teach at, and I ride that in half the time a bus would take. Take that, stinky bus!

                                           She doesn't have a name yet. But she is my love.

And how can I not mention the feeling I get when I am riding the ol bike? It beats out most things in the world, I can tell you that. I feel like I can ride forever when I am in motion. The moment I reach my destination, I am a little bit saddened by the fact that I don't have to cycle anymore. I feel as though there is nothing that can make me happier than riding on a good stretch of a bike path, alone and in motion.

                                       Beautiful Edmonton at sunset as seen from my bicycle.


It is a strange feeling. But a good one.

I want to ride my bicycle every day. Forever.


Until next time you see me ride into the sunset,




The girl who is constantly wanting to be in motion.

On missing loves and learning loss

I am a funny person.

I like to be a funny person, and enjoy the fact that I am know for being a funny person.

I also write sad songs.

It can be a little confusing to some, how a girl like me can be funny yet at the same time write songs that reach the depths of our hearts and tug at our deepest emotions, sometimes ranging into the extent of sorrow (although sorrow is term I usually use for comedy's sake - it's a funny word to say - it seemed to fit well here).

Well, blame it on my youth, I guess. I grew up in a funny household. Laughter was a way of life, and the goal was to always be ready to come up with a quip or a dry comment to try to make the rest of the clan of Walkers laugh. I could go on by telling stories, but I'd be here forever and would probably pee my pants at some point. I promise though that one of these days I will set out to write a post strictly about some of the funnier moments in my life (and trust me, there are many).

Tonight, however, I am writing this post by candle light, after seeing a show that has rendered me speechless yet has set off a thousand thoughts in my head.

Tonight I was invited to the opening night of Pig Girl, put on by the Theatre Network at The Roxy. It was the world premiere by the amazing Canadian playwright Colleen Murphy. The story centres around a young woman who is being held against her will by a deranged pig farmer, and her sister's struggle with local police to find her. There are many similarities towards recent events (recent meaning in the last 20 years, but maybe I am a little behind the times) within Vancouver's East Hastings community, but what happened in the play can be felt anywhere.

The idea of seeing this show made me very nervous, in a way I hadn't felt nervous before. You see, although I am no stranger to being involved in theatre, this show meant something different to me. About five years ago, I was talking to my father on the phone at work. I had been working at an insurance company (and if anyone knows me they can quickly realize I am not the type to be working at such a place). I often called my father while I was at work,  if only to make the day go by a little faster. We had gotten on the subject of my mother's side of the family (she has 9 siblings) and what they were all up to. Gloria was an Aunt that I had never known, but always knew about her - even if the information was hard to come by. At this point I had understood that she was living in Victoria, and had informed everyone that she wanted no contact with her family. That was not exactly how things had panned out, but my parents didn't want to tell me what they really knew.

Last time she was in contact with my family, Gloria was not living in Victoria, but living in Vancouver's notorious East side. She had been battling addiction and ended up there, which is the case for many people.  Because of her lifestyle, she had gone missing before, for days here and there. But she was always able to contact her mother (my Grandmother) at some point to check in. The last time she did so was sometime in February 1993.

I wasn't very old in 1993, and in no way did I know about the situation with Gloria. I don't think anyone really did, to be honest. And if they did, they didn't say a word about it.

It's interesting how we cope with loss. The loss of someone without a trace is a kind of loss that you can never prepare for. I never met my aunt, but her memory is still with us.  It has been passed down to me from my parents. She was a bridesmaid at my parent's wedding. She held me when I was born. She is a daughter, a friend, an aunt, a sister. She is so many things, but she is also missing. She may always be missing. She may never be alive, nor dead, nor happy, nor at peace. And neither will we. It's a cloud that hangs in the air which some family members talk about and others avoid. There is no right or wrong way to handle this looming cloud of her being missing for it may always be there.

Although this is something that is not easily brought up, I have to talk about this. This idea of addiction and sex trade workers and what is so easily swept under the rug in our society. Maybe it's easier for me to talk about it as I do not remember Gloria, which in a way makes me feel like I should take on this task of talking about the things that are hard to talk about with people that may not have had to experience it first, second or third hand. These things are necessary to discuss and to learn about because they are happening in our world, in our cities, and in our neighbourhoods all the time. And when we stop ourselves from talking about them we stop ourselves from going forward and helping those that need it. I know that no matter where Gloria is, she would want us to talk about these issues. 

I feel my Aunt Gloria with me at times, and not just in terms of the looming cloud I speak of. I have written a song about her (which is also an homage to many of the women that have gone missing from Vancouver's east side) and there have been times when I've performed it where strange things have happened (a painting fell off the wall once at a cafe I was performing at, there have been a few times when an electrical issue has come up during the song). I felt her with me tonight at the show too. Pig Girl can be graphic at times, yet it is compelling enough to keep watching no matter what is going on. About two-thirds of the way through the story I had been holding back tears to the point where I thought I would pass out from exhaustion when suddenly my mind shifted slightly and I thought of Gloria. In that moment I completely relaxed, to the point where I was worried I wasn't even in my body anymore. I cannot explain completely what I felt, but it was something deep and something strong. I felt okay. And safe. Because I was being told that she was okay. It was actually very beautiful and felt in many ways, serene. 

Once the show was over, I wept like I hadn't wept in a very long time. The content is so true to what happened and what continues to happen each day in this country. Women go missing. Authorities do not show the compassion to help make a change. Families wear themselves out trying desperately to find loved ones. It is thought-provoking and told in a way that will make you want to search for answers in ways you didn't think you would or could. The performances are extremely intense and subtle at the same time, forcing you to feel conflicting emotions towards each character at some point. This play is not for the faint of heart, but we are all strong. We need to be.

I may never know about my Aunt's whereabouts. I may never know if she is alive or dead. I may never know how she died, where she was, who she was with, or what led her to where she is or was. Many people speculate she was one of the victims of Mr. Pickton. Her name has been mentioned in the Globe and Mail, on CBC, and on various missing persons websites from across North America. I have come to accept the fact that we do not know and we may never know what happened to Gloria. But we can love those around us and look out for one another. We can learn about how our society has made mistakes and change the way we look at others. Most importantly, we can make sure that every person on this earth is treated with the respect and dignity that every single person deserves.

Until next time I feel fueled by emotion to an out of this world extent,

The girl who is trying to love with all her heart. 



*For more information on Pig Girl which is playing at The Roxy theatre in Edmonton until November 24th, please click here.

**If you would like to hear the song I have written for my Aunt which is entitled Our Glory please click here.

Not another political rant! I promise.

In the midst of an amazing few weeks of shows, writing, and reflection, I come to you inspired in a way I never thought I could be. I was asked to perform at the campaign kickoff party for Don Iveson (which was held this past Monday, the 23rd of September). Don Iveson is a city council member who is running for Mayor of Edmonton. I met Don at a fundraiser over the summer, and I was immediately excited about what Edmonton is and could become because of the genuine love that man has for the city I live in. His positive energy lit up the room, and I was excited to learn more about his campaign. After doing some research, I found that he was in support of many things I believed in. Now I am not saying that everyone has to go out and vote for him, but I think it is very important to research the people who will be representing the ideas you may have to made your world (your city, your province, your country) a better place. Who knows - maybe you'll find there are many people who share those same ideas (that's CRAZY, isn't it???). Those ideas may encourage you in your own life. They may shock and surprise you. They may even anger you. But hopefully, if anything, those ideas that you will learn about will inspire you create. I know it did for me.

Until next time there is an election I am excited for,

That girl who stays up too late and thinks too much.

Tour update number two: Logging roads, sunshine, tears, laughs, and home.

I had this huge idea that I would blog about my tour every day.

My first two days on the road were 8 hour driving days, and I got tired. So I didn't write anything... now my tour is over and I have decided to recount my travels in a "Coles Notes" version of the whole thing (well maybe except for the first day as I had already posted about my trip to Jasper. So let's start at day two, shall we?).

Okay! Heeeeeeeerrrre we go:

Day 2: 8 hour drive, the scariest drive of my life, and Kaslo.

Waking up is not easy for me on a good day. Let alone when I have gone to bed at 1:30 in the AM... Alas, I had to be on the road at 6am to be able to get to Kaslo, British Columbia by 4pm. So, by God, I am going to be on the road then.

I woke up at 6:45am.

As fast as I could, I throw my life into my rental car and off I go. Watching the sun come up in the mountains was possibly one of the most amazing moments in my grown life. It was unbelievable. I was viewing the very images photographers chase after...I even took some photos from the car (the "professional" photographer I am...) I would share them with you, but I have no idea how to do that in this blog, so just close your beautiful eyes and imagine how beautiful those images are. Don't worry, I'll wait.

...

Nice, right???

I kept driving, and driving, and driving. Through some beautiful scenery too. But as much as I wanted to, I couldn't stop. I had to keep trekking along. After a lovely ferry ride, I was officially in the Kootenays. Now this is where it gets hilarious. I listened to Google Maps (which is kind of the go-to in route planning for my touring) and took the less-used road to drive the rest of the 89 kilometres to Kaslo. It was a one lane, gravel logging road that had a 800 foot drop into a massive lake.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeehaw.

I drove at a steady 40 km/hour with my entire body using every muscle in my body to keep the car in check. At one point I recalled a Stephen King short story I read where a gal is trying to find the best shortcut from town to town and ends up going through this strange wormhole and returns 50 years later-without aging at all. I was certain that was going to happen to me.

(I should also note that I was listening to Louise Hay's "101 Empowering Thoughts" on repeat as I was too scared to move my hand from the wheel to change the CD. Things such as "Live every day as if it were your last" and "Remember to tell your loved ones you love them; you never know when will be the last time to see them" really stick with me because I REALLY THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DRIVE INTO THE LAKE.

But, I survived.

I finally rolled into Kaslo at about 4:45, and after feeling like I was the latest person in the world, I quickly realized that in the Kootenays, time doesn't matter. 

I found the house of the gentleman that was to be interviewing me for Kootenay Co-op Radio, and after apologizing for being late, he seemed almost angry for me apologizing. We drank some sun tea and talked about Alberta outside on his porch while his dogs ran around. Such a nice relaxing time after the crazy afternoon of "death drive: 2013". The interview went swimmingly, and after we took a walking tour of the town where he asked if I wanted to record one of my songs in what he said was "probably the smallest music store in Canada - no - North America." How could I say no? It was the tiniest music store I had been to, so I can only assume it has to be one of the smallest in the world. We recorded a song from my album, and after a short chat I was on my way to the Bluebelle Bistro, where I would be playing that evening.

The Bluebelle Bistro is a wonderful place with amazing food, and lovely staff. It was a balmy 31 degrees there that day, and most people were on the lake. I played my night's worth of music to a handful of lovely listeners, and after that I was on my way. Only thing was, I didn't have a place to sleep.

What does a musician do when they have no place to sleep and are too cheap to pay for a room?

CAR SLUMBER PARTY!

Thank goodness for the luxury vehicle because I had a wonderful sleep. I felt like a lazy camper.

After a day like that, one would hope that the next day I would only have to travel a few hours, right?

Tomorrow: NINE HOUR DRIVE TO VANCOUVER

Our Glory Tour Day One: The Whistle Stops here.

I left Edmonton at 3:00pm today.

I had to work at one of my many jobs before leaving, which was a good thing. I actually had a chance to focus on something that had NOTHING to do with my CD or my tour, which was refreshing... but I am happy to be back to the CD/tour mindset.

Because I always take my bike or the bus everywhere, I had to rent a vehicle for my trip. I wa SHOCKED when the rental company gave me a LUXURY vehicle because they didn't have the cheap economy vehicle I wanted.

I AM A KING!

Leather seats. Sun roof. Heated seats. CUP HOLDERS?!?! This is heaven.

My destination was Jasper for my first night, which is a wee lil 3 hours away from Edmonton. A very small drive, compared to the NINE HOURS I have to drive tomorrow... (what was I thinking??)

The Whistle Stop pub was my home for the night, and it actually did feel like home. All the staff treated me like I was a regular, which is always good. I started playing music and (unlike most bars I have played at in my life) everyone stopped and listened. It was a little bit surreal. I met some lovely people in town from England, and we had a great chat about Yorkshire (which is one of my favorite places).

During my second set, things got crazy. During my last song, a bunch of people came in and yelled "WE LOVE LIVE MUSIC!!!" and sat right in front of me. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't end the night then. So, I did what any musician would do... I played all of the songs I already played in 3/4 time.

It was great. WALTZES FOR ALL!!

I had a blast, and the audience did too. Possibly one of my favorite bars to play ever. So much love!

Now, I must sleep as I have to be on the road at 6am tomorrow!


Until tomorrow,

The girl who is ready for touring day two.

Fear: The good, the bad, and....

One of my favorite things to do is talk about fear.

I feel that if we can open up to ourselves and each other about the things we fear, then we can accept it and move on. It's really simple, right?

...

Right???

When I teach singing or guitar to students, they are often nervous of performing. Whether it is in front of me or a larger audience, they get scared.

I like to ask them "What is the worst that can happen if you do make a mistake?"

They usually look at me blankly, so I continue. "Well, I guess if you were to mess up, the world could end... or the building could collapse... or you could accidentally throw up on every single person that was in attendance... or you could open your mouth to sing and wasps could fly out and sting everyone"

That is when most of my students look at me like I am crazy.

Maybe because I am.

I am crazy, but I am also pretty ballsy. I have been told this many, many times. I would like to think I am ballsy because if I let my fear control me I would be stuck in my bedroom with my cats for the rest of my days. I don't want to live like that (no matter how cute the lil' guys are), so I have made a choice to attack fear before it attacks me.

I have just released my first debut EP this past weekend, and it was a lot of work. The hard work was the easy part in comparison to the fears I had to fight. "Will people like it?",  "Will I do a good job promoting it?", "What if no one shows up to my show?" among other concerns danced through my mind.

One day, I sat down and wrote everything that I was scared of out. Every little thing about my music, my future, my life. I looked at it and asked, "What's the worst that can happen?" And immediately thought of the scene from Frankenstein where he was being chased by the mob of angry villagers.
That was the worst thing I could imagine happening. I release my album, and almost instantly an angry mob would hunt me down, obviously. But now that I knew that that was the worst that could happen to me, I knew I could survive anything else.

Mind you, I honestly don't know what I would've done if an angry mob appeared, but heck. I was mentally ready for it.

I mention this because as I am writing this, I am fighting the fear monster once again. In two days I will be heading out on the road by myself for 12 days to tour British Columbia. I haven't done anything like this for a very very long time. Heck, I cannot remember the last time I was out of town for more than 6 days.

I know, many of you may be saying "people do this all the time... you'll be fine", which is true. But this is uncharted territory for me; something I fear.

I have always been a very careful person with my choices in life. This past year, however, I have thrown caution to the wind (well as much as I could) and taken the risks and done things I wouldn't have done in the past. And you know what? Every moment, every risk, every detour, rejection EVERYTHING, has been worth it. Worth every moment. I have never felt so alive and so happy in my life. And I have never felt as though I am just getting started - which is the most exciting part of all.

So! I have looked at every option for the worst things that could happen to me on my tour, and I am ready for it all. The good, the bad, and the way it's meant to be.

Until next time I have to conquer my fears,

The girl who isn't afraid anymore.


SIDENOTE:
For those of you that are interested, I will be updating this blog along with my facebook page and twitter with all of my adventures on my tour.

Healthy Competition for the Easily Excitable.

When I was growing up, I was more of a tomboy than an artsy girl. My how times change...

I always participated in sports, but sadly (and not shockingly) the teams I was a part of never did well. I am a huge fan of reminiscing, so here are a few examples:

- My high school basketball team once lost to another school by over a hundred points. Our team only had 4 points, so that was a thing.

-One time my basketball team was losing so badly that the coach asked me to fake an injury because he knew I wanted to be an actor. I jumped up to catch a rebound and "fell down". Guys, it was awful. I didn't really hurt myself, but it was convincing, and everyone was concerned, but I was LYING. To this day I don't really know why our coach wanted me to do that, but oh that GUILT carries with me...

-I was taking a test for my Tae Kwon Do red belt and I almost kicked someone in the teeth. Instead, I threw out my knee, subsequently making me have knee surgery at the tender age of 16 and not get the red belt I had worked so hard for.

-I once threw a bat at someone on my co-ed baseball team because he mentioned that baseball was a good sport for me because I was overweight and anyone who plays baseball is out of shape. Needless to say, I was removed from the team. (Side note: I DO NOT like Baseball now... some things you just can't let go)
  

I guess you could say that I have drifted away from my competitive sports-related past, but I have definitely kept some of those qualities. I am still kind of a competitive person at heart, but I also have  developed a very short attention span over the years, allowing me to not really care about winning or losing. I do remember one time I have won first place in something...

 If you look verrrry closely, it actually does say "First Place"

When I was in high school, I was a shot-putter. Yep, that was what I did. I tossed very heavy balls around. I went to my first (and last) city-wide track and field event at the University of Manitoba, where I awaited to be called for my turn to participate. I waited and waited, and finally they called for the senior female shot-putters. MY TIME TO SHINE. I strutted over to the part of the field, and checked in with the official. I looked around, and saw that no one else was walking over. As it turned out, there were NO OTHER SHOT-PUTTERS in my category. Not one other person in Winnipeg was going to compete against me. The official felt bad, and I was pretty upset. By default, they ended up giving me the First Place ribbon.

Yep. I got First Place. By default.

Yep.

I still have the ribbon. It is on my aptly titled "board of life laughs" by my desk in my apartment, alongside numerous letters of rejection for bank loans, letters from financial institutions with the heading WITHOUT PREJUDICE as well as passive aggressive "good luck" cards from old employers after I had told them I was quitting to work in the arts. It's a great lil' board. Always makes me laugh.

The reason why I've been doing a lot of looking back on my awards/medals (or lack thereof) lately is because I have recently been nominated for an Edmonton Music Award in the "Artist to Watch" category. This is nothing in comparison to the Shot-Put debacle of 1999, as I know there are some really great artists in my category that I am alongside. I always hate when you hear Oscar-nominated actors say "It's just an honour to be nominated", but I actually have to say that it is just an honour to be nominated. Even if I don't win I will still be so proud of myself and everyone who has been nominated (although I have heard that the award you receive is actually a bottle of wine, so COME ON. That award was MADE for me).

The fun part of the award that I am nominated for is that it is decided by public votes. That means that YOU (yes, you) can vote to see me win! And heck, if it turns out I win a bottle of wine, I'll try my best to share it with y'all (no promises though...).

If you are interested in voting for me, please visit:

https://yeglive.ca/ema-2013-public-ballot

While you are there, you can also vote for "People's Choice", and I highly recommend voting for my good friends, Collective West. They are super rad and deserve this award. Thanks all!



Until next time I want to recount all my competitive failures,

The girl who may actually win something....one day.


*As an aside, I just want to make it known that even though I am nominated for the "Artist to Watch" award, that doesn't mean you should start creepily watching me (in other words: stalking). If you have been stalking me for a while, keep up the good work! I haven't noticed you...yet.*