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.*

Day-tripping for loners.

This past Monday, I went on a day trip. To Calgary. By myself.

I know, not big news. Not even by a long shot.

But, I don't have my own car, and  I am a huge fan of road trips. HUGE. If you were wondering what to get me for Valentine's Day to make me love you forever, it would be access to unlimited road trips.

But I would have to be alone.

See, I love my friends. I really do. I have some of the best friends a gal could ask for. But sometimes, I really like to drive all by myself and be solo tourist.

So I drove my good friend Justin to work Monday morning (that was one of the stipulations for me to use his car for the day) and I went on my merrily way. It should be known that I am not a morning person, but I really do love mornings. So here I was, still waking up, driving down the QEII in a southerly direction. It was beautiful. The sun was shining as if I were in a movie. It was perfect.

I did have one thing to do in Calgary, which was to record two songs for a radio station (they will be playing my songs on rotation from 9-midnight weeknights, and if you feel so inclined you can listen/request/support them here). Other than that, I was free as a bird. I was thinking of contacting my pals in Calgary (And seeing how I haven't been there for over a year, there was a lot of catching up to be had), but I decided against it. No, it wasn't because I was a heartless wench who says she has the best friends in the world yet doesn't care about them, it was because I LOVE being alone.

Sounds weird, right?

Well, if it sounds so weird, why does Heart sing about needing to get someone alone? Huh? HUH?!?!?  Exactly.

I love being in a place that is not where I live, and being alone. I know. I am weird. I get it.

So. I had lunch, went to the station, recorded the songs (one of which was a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Ain't No Cure For Love", so ya know, Happy Valentine's day!), went to a few really rad record stores (I may have bought a few Tears for Fears albums which are my new best friends, among others...) and took myself out for dinner at a nice little place called Blue Star Diner. It was wonderful. I got home around in the late evening, and I felt like I had been at the spa - not like I had been driving for over 6 hours. It was really amazing what a day trip all alone can do.

I think I will be ready for my 12 day tour in May. If anything, I am very very excited for it. 



Until next time I decide to take myself out for a solo day trip,


The girl who is made for the open road.

Tales from the land of tour-planning: From fear to stress to happiness to wine in one night.

Here comes the news of the day: 

This one-woman show is taking it to the streets. (And no, I am not homeless again...)

In case I haven't told you (or in case you haven't been inundated with the onslaught of personal info I have been tossing around) I am releasing my debut EP Our Glory in May (May 4th to be exact - YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST!) and I am planning a Western Canadian tour to support that (don't worry my east-of-Edmonton friends, I will trek out east in JUNE!). This will be the first time I have planned, and ventured out on a tour all by my lonesome, and I have to say: it's been such an amazing experience so far. And I haven't even hit the pavement yet!

In the past 2 weeks, I have sent approximately 50 emails to various live music venues, house concert groups, and just about anyone who will allow me to email them about playing in their garage/shack/veranda/Bavarian-inspired guest house/pet store/bowling alleys/ANYWHERE while in BC. I have come to terms with the fact that many (read: most) emails are not being responded to. It can be a little bit of an ego-bruise to me (just like all the letters I send out to all of my suitors. ALL those letters. To ALL those suitors...) But you know what, heck, I understand. Live music venues are like the popular kids in the room (let me finish-I think I am onto something with this metaphor...), whereas I (as a musician and a person) am the weirdo child picking my nose lying on a pile of similarly odd children all picking their noses in different and unique ways. Now those popular kids have to choose from a pile of snotty kids which ones they will spend their recess with each day, and I can assume that it is not an easy choice at all. (Metaphor achieved!)

                                           

What it comes down to is that there are only so many ways you can say "Hey! I'm an awesome human being and a great musician! Please oh for the love of all that is holy in the world hire me!" Before you have a bit of a mental episode.

I have been saying all that for 2 weeks now.

Commence mental episode (or would it be considered a mental series...?).

It actually isn't that bad. I have only been a bit more mental than usual, which is already on the going-mental side of things. I think I am doing a-okay.

And to be honest, all hope is not lost in the land of tour planning; I have gotten some bites! It is amazing. Who knew that an unknown-on the music scene lass like myself would get some responses! I am seriously super excited and shocked and happy, all at the same time (I know, it's weird). There are so many of us out there, plugging away at writing good songs, playing shows and doing the business of all that is musical, and here I am getting gigs in a province I have never played in. Yes, I have been working super duper hard at this, and I can see the work I do coming around and proving itself to me. Still, it  makes me take step back everyday and realize how lucky I am.

It's funny. The feeling I feel every time I go to write an email to a venue, or check my email, or look up new places to play, I feel like I am in the honeymoon stage of a relationship. You know that point at the beginning of a relationship (or in movies, the whole relationship) how excited you feel when you see that they've called you, or when you plan to see them, et cetera... (the closest I've gotten to that is when my cats pay attention to me because they want food). When I am working on my tour,  I get that funny feeling in my stomach that is nerves and excitement and joy all barreled up into one. It is such a wonderful feeling. I understand (just like all relationships) there will be a lot of work to do, but I am ready for it. I have been waiting to do this for a long time, and now it's happening. I couldn't be more happy.


Until the next time I can take a break from tour planning,

The girl who is going places-literally.

2013 is going to be a great year. Because I am MAKING it a great year.

I have a confession to make:

2012 was not a good year for me. It wasn't good for me, for many of my friends, and especially for KONY. (Remember #KONY2012 ??? Although I usually have a good laugh referencing #KONY2012 and the weird stuff that happened surrounding it all, I know one person who wasn't laughing: KONY.)

Many people don't know this (hell, this isn't something you wave on a flag in Churchill Square, now is it), but I was suffering from depression for a lot of 2012. It was very up and down, some days/weeks/months/were better than others, but I wasn't myself for most of the year. I could feel it.

*Before I go any further, I need to preface the rest of this post by saying that depression is a serious thing and it comes in all different shapes and forms. I dealt with it one way, but that may not be the way for everyone. Just saying, I love you all and if you feel that you are not yourself and may be suffering from depression, please FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY GO SEE A DOCTOR* 

I need to confess how terribly easy it is to remain in a depressed state. Now, yes, there were things that triggered my bouts of depression (for example: being dumped on New Years Day is not necessarily the best way to start off the year, but you know, nobody's perfect), but sometimes it was just THERE. No rhyme, no reason. It was like a cough I couldn't shake or a wound that wouldn't heal (or like that shadow outside my window that watches me sleep at night...).  There were weeks that went by where all I wanted to do was sit in my ill-fitting sweat pants, eat an ENTIRE stuffed-crust pizza in bed, and finish it up with a box of Oreos. And I DID THAT, ladies and gents. Many, many times.
I could feel it within me not just emotionally, but physically too. I had gained weight (Really Lindsey? By eating stuffed crust pizzas and Oreos all day?? SHOCKING.). I looked (and felt) like a tired bag of poo. Constantly. I didn't want to see anyone or do anything. That was (more or less) my 2012.

But, I did do things. I was in some really great shows. I played some amazing gigs. I also recorded an  lovely EP (which is something I have been wanting to do and working towards for a VERY long time). But I didn't release it. I kept telling everyone (including myself) various reasons why I wanted to wait for the following year to release it, but the fact was, I was scared. Petrified. So absolutely afraid of failing (or maybe even being happy? Hmmm...) that I didn't want to do a Goddamn thing. So I stayed in my safe place: where I kept eating pizza, watching Netflix, and waiting for something better to happen.

How I waited....

And waited...

Nothing. (Again, shocking!)

December was where it all came to a head, I can confess openly. I was more or less an uncontrollable weepy mess (and let's get a few things straight: I do like to weep. I am a weeper. But this was more than my standard weeping). For everyone's enjoyment, I have actually made a list of all the places I cried in public:

-bus
-someone else's car
-Home Depot
-warehouse
-gym
-office
-taxi cab
-in the back of a doctor's office (I was working there... but I was crying in the same area people leave  their urine samples. It was a real hoot.)
-various theatres
-sushi restaurants
-a Value Village
-many bookstores
-LRT (I was also listening to this song on repeat, which made the tears flow even harder)
-restaurant
-in the change room at Suzy Shier
-bar
-Safeways, Save-Ons, and Sobeys

and my personal favorite:

-at a bus stop right outside of a daycare (THAT'S IT CHILDREN, SEE THESE TEARS! THEY ARE REAL ADULT TEARS. THIS IS WHAT YOU HAVE TO LOOK FORWARD TO!)

But about half-way through December, something shifted in me. I wasn't necessarily happier, no. I knew that I had to make changes in order to be happier. I had to do it. Not anyone else in this world could do it. I had to take the first step. I knew that this depression-thang would stick around forever (like some ex-boyfriends, right ladies?!?! OH SNAP! But seriously...) if I let it, and I would be complacent with that. But I wouldn't be happy. So I decided I would do whatever I could to make myself happier, and (hopefully) I would feel a difference. I stopped eating as many packages of Oreos (holy frick was that ever tough). I stopped watching so much Netflix, put on some friggin pants, got to work. I signed up for newsletters that had positive messages and were motivating for what I wanted to do with my life. I started writing again. I began planning for my 2013. I decided that 2013 was going to be a great year for me because I was going to MAKE it a great year for me. And yes, there would be days that weren't going to be good ones, and that was okay. But I would work my butt off to make sure it would be (and I would be) okay. I knew that I would have to work super duper hard in 2013, but it would be worth it. So here I am.

I am not saying this is for everyone. We have all had different experiences, events, and changes in our lives to get us to where we are today. But this is what I did, and am going to continue to do. As I write this, I can feel that I am happier than I have been in a long long while.

I implore you all to look deeply within and if there is anything you can do to make yourself happier, try it out. You may be surprised at what a little change may do.

I will personally try my hardest to continue to do what I can to be happy in 2013. I hope you will do the same.

Until next time,

The girl who is excited for 2013.

Asking random Canadian celebrities to play on my album isn't creepy, right? RIGHT?!?!?!

Remember that time I sent an email asking Canadian music sensation/slash/guitar virtuoso/slash/killer singer/slash/what-I-can-only-assume-is-a-great-guy Matthew Andersen if he would like to sing back ups on my album??

YOU DON'T REMEMBER?!?!?! 

Oh right.  That's because I didn't tell you.

Well... HERE GOES!!!

Let's start off by making sure you all know who Matt Andersen is (because if you don't know how amazing he is, your life is a legitimate joke and you should re-evaluate your life choices).  Just watch this video of him performing live at the 2011 Maple Blues Awards and you will see exactly why we are meant to be together - er, I mean sing together...

Let's take it back a few weeks to when I was balled up in my living room, working away on my computer, listening to Mr. Andersen's live album, Life From The Phoenix Theatre.  I was singing along to one of my favorite songs of his, when I thought "how great would it be if Matt Andersen sang with me on my album?!?! Wait - why can't I ask Matt Andersen to sing backups on my album?!??!"  So that is what I did.  I emailed Mr. Matt Andersen and asked him outright to sing on my album. 

Want to know what I wrote?  Who doesn't.  Here it is:

Hi Matt,

Now I don't know if you actually read the hundreds of emails I bet you
get in a day (or if this email I am sending will even make it past
your spam bin), but I thought I'd fire off an email to you.  What is
there to lose, right?

I am sending you this to 1) tell you how much I enjoy what you do and
2) ask a crazy request.  So here goes.

1) I really enjoy what you do.  I am so glad I have had the
opportunity to see you live (you played the Edmonton Folk Fest last
year and pretty much stopped everyone dead in their tracks with your
amazing music).  More recently I sat in my car for the entire time CBC
played your concert on Radio 2.  Thank the good lord for the CBC.

2) So... I am currently recording a debut EP here in lovely Edmonton,
and I have been trying to find someone to sing some killer backups to
the songs I wrote (kind of bluesy-ish rockin tunes - think Joan
Osborne circa 1994 if that could even be used as a reference...) and I
think that (in my own humble opinion) our voices together would not
only sound great, but could quite possibly stop a few wars (in a good
way).  I will definitely pay you for your services, so hopefully you
would want to trek out to the prairies and record a bit?  I don't know
what your schedule is like, but I also work at a great music venue in
Edmonton too if you wanted to make it a stop as well (but hell, I am
sure you have tons of people that can book those things for you...)
But seriously, I completely understand if you don't want to be
involved in something like this... even as I am writing this to you I
feel kind of silly. But if we could make it work somehow, well heck.
I could cross off "singing with Matt Andersen" off my bucket list.

I won't include links to my website etc. etc. because I thought I
would just send a simple email to see what you think.

Thank you so much for your time Matt, and I hope you are well.

Cheers,

Lindsey Walker

So there you have it.  I emailed him.  I don't regret my choice, and neither should he.  Mind you, he hasn't emailed me back.  Yet.  I have no doubt he will, mainly because he is Canadian (and has good Canadian manners), but more so because he will be haunted by guilt for the rest of his very successful career.  (What?  Is that a threat? Don't think I am capable of sowing the seeds of guilt in an email??  Just ask any of my exes.)

I will be sure to let the world know when (positive vibes here, people) Mr. Andersen responds to my email.  It will be great.  I promise.  Now that I finished emailing Canadian celebrities about performing on my CD, you may be asking yourself  "What is next for that beautiful, talented, lovely, generous, NOT crazy in any way girl?"  Well, I have been thinking about mailing a letter to the Queen of England inviting her to my CD release party.  But we will see. 

Until next time I decide to send random letters to my idols,

That girl who should stop* sending emails. 

*but won't

 

Taking the plunge...NOT the Nestea plunge.

I am taking the plunge, you guys.

I am plunging (that doesn't sound great, now does it?) into the world of recording. 

From the beginning of 2012 until now, I have been extremely focused on my career as a musician.  I started a funding campaign (what??? You didn't hear about it through my incessant social media onslaught??  Well!  Even though the campaign is over, you can still check out my funding page here.) for my debut CD which was shockingly successful.  Since then I have been planning, planning, planning for recording and touring in the near future.

I love planning.

I ACTUALLY REALLY LOVE PLANNING.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I love to plan every part of my life and if a plan gets cancelled I am personally offended (don't think that's a trait I possess? Fine then.  Plan to go for coffee with me then cancel.  THEN YOU WILL SEE MY FURY UNLEASHED).

I also love planning because I love to imagine what my life will be like in the future.  I can dream.  And boy oh boy, do I ever dream.

The scary thing about planning is when it comes time to turn all that planning into practice.

GOOD GRAVY.

That's when all the fears and doubts start rearing their ugly heads.  What if I rush into things foolhardily? What if I make a mistake? What if I fail and cry and my cats run away and I never have the opportunity to be this happy ever again and I become    WHAT IF EVERYTHING I HAVE PLANNED DOESN'T TURN OUT???

Seriously, Lindsey.  Stop friggin worrying so much. 

The funny thing is that it will be okay.  It will all work out.  No matter what.  (Well, unless I set myself on fire and scream obscenities into the night sky, which has been known to happen before...).  I know it can be frightening to go for the things we love and feel most passionate about.  The fear of failing at what we love can prevent us from actually going for (and end up doing) what we love.  Don't get me wrong, I am doing a lot of what I love.  I play my own music, have many supportive friends and family, have fans that don't know me personally yet still love my music.  People sing along to my songs when I play live. I am really blessed with my life as a musician.  It was okay all this time, and it will be okay from here on in.    

I will be heading into the studio to record in the next day or two.  I have been planning for this for a looooong while, but I have to let you in on a secret: I still feel unprepared. And nervous.  I have no reason to feel unprepared, because of all this planning I've done.  I shouldn't feel nervous because I fell confident about the songs I have written because they come from a place of honesty in my heart and soul. So all I can do is keep telling myself that I will do my best and the outcome will be great.    

I am going to begin recording tomorrow.

TOMORROW, you guys.

!!!!!!

I am excited.  And nervous.  And happy, proud, blessed.  It will be an amazing adventure, as everything along this path has been so far. I will be sure to write more posts as I get started and start recording, I promise!

Until next time when I can start calling myself "recording artist Lindsey Walker",

The girl who should plan to not be nervous. 

Everybody IS working for the weekend.

And if you aren't working for the weekend, you are lucky.  Or jobless. Or a workaholic.  Or live in a society where weekends don't exsist.  Or you are a member of Loverboy and you live in a world where EVERY DAY IS A WEEKEND DAY.


Just like this:

We can only dream.


(Could we also take a moment to LOVE Mike Reno and his ...ummm... outfit?  And the way he claps on 1 and 3?   Sigh....)




ANYWAY.




I am working for the weekend, one could say.  I work for a temp agency, only to financially fuel my dreams to become a Canadian roots musician /slash/ touring SUPERSTAR.  That is very attainable, right???


....RIGHT?!?!?!?


So here I am, working for the man.  Or in this case, many men.  (Wait, what???).  What I mean to say is, each week or so, I get a new boss at a new location doing a new job.  It's a dream for someone with adult-onset ADD.  I love these jobs.  Every time I get a phone call about a "placement" (that is what the temp agency calls it) I feel like a spy (not unlike in my favorite movie "True Lies" where Jamie Lee Curtis plays my dream role of being a mousey housewife /slash/ accidental undercover spy.  AND she gets to kiss Arnold Schwarzenegger.  AND she gets to fight Tia Carrere.  AND she gets to put her head on Bill Paxton's lap while he drives a convertable.  WHAT A DREAM.)


I am finding more and more that these temp jobs are becoming an outlet for me to realize how fascinating (and can we also point out completely bat-shit looney) people are more than simply working 8 until 4 Monday to Friday.


Here are a few examples: 


-that middle-aged guy who worked with me at a drywall warehouse who kept wanting to get high with me on my lunch break (I felt it was a trap; he was most likely a narc.)
-the countless women in their 30s (but look like they are in their 50s) at various locations who ask me incredulously "Why aren't you married yet???"
-the one MILF I worked with (if you don't know what a MILF is children, it is a demon-lady who will turn you to stone if you meet her gaze.  It is best to avoid contact at all costs) who was in the office next to me who yelled at her mother for about 15 minutes straight over the phone
-another coworker who incessently felt the need to show me every "sext" from her multiple lovers
-working at a post secondary institution where one of the students ate hand sanitizer RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY VERY OWN EYES


That last one was a mind-cuss.   I was pretty certain that was going to die right then and there.  My life flashed before my eyes, and it consisted of the following:


-me peeing my pants in a snowbank when I was in middle school (GUYS, I WAS TOLD A FUNNY JOKE.  STOP JUDGING)
-me having my first lips-on-lips kiss with a boy (no tongue though, that is gross) in junior high because I forced him to kiss me (ladies if you want something done, DO IT FORCIBLY)
-me walking home from school and eating a baker's dozen of cookies from Subway and crying 


AND LEST WE FORGET


-that time I ran into a glass door because some cute man was flirting with me and I didn't know what to do (stranger danger, right guys??) so I ran away.




After that flash of my past (mainly my awful life in junior high and one lame moment as an adult) I realized my life wasn't really in danger from the Purell-guzzler.  (He and I actually had a neat (read: WEIRD) conversation about the Wayans brothers.)


These jobs are great.  They don't pay amazingly (but money isn't everything, right friends?), but the entertainment value is something to be rivaled.  When I am asked why I am not staying at a certain job, I say because I am a musician.  It is at this point where I get one of two responses.  Either (a) "WOW. THAT IS SO COOL.  SING SOMETHING FOR ME RIGHT NOW!" or "Aww, well when you realize that you can't make a living on music, maybe we will have another job opening for you".




Shockingly, both responses make me angry.


Even more shockingly, I always have the exact same response for both of their responses.


No thanks.


Not only am I working my butt off for the weekend, I am working my butt off for the things that make me happy in my life.  Shockingly, that isn't making tons of money and moving up the corporate ladder.


Until next time I get placed in some ridiculous spy -like work scenario,


That girl who is working for Loverboy- er- the weekend. 

A public apology from me. The NON-blogger.

I realize that I haven't been a great blogger.

I haven't even friggin blogged (is that a term?) for almost a YEAR.

Yet I noticed today that I have had over 100 page views in the last month.

WHAT?!?!

That makes absolutely no sense at all, especially seeing that I haven't even been looking at my own page.

SO WHO KEEPS CHECKING BACK?!?!?

Lord only knows. I keep picturing someone waking up every Goddamned morning like it's friggin Christmas or something hoping for a present under their metaphorical tree.  But alas, no matter how many times they refresh this page there are no new posts.

NOTHING.




So this post is for you, you creepy, excitable internet stalker you.

2012 IS HERE!!  *shoots imaginary guns into the sky (or in my case an imaginary ninja on the ceiling)*

...so are we going to all die in horrible and unimaginable ways this year?  No no.  Well, Maybe some of you *wink*, but definitely not me because...

THIS IS MY YEAR!!!


So how many of you have heard someone say that before?

"Last year was okay, but this year I feel it.  This year is MY year.  It will be the year of ME."

Ummmm... yeah.... right.....sure....

I'd love to crawl inside these weirdos' brains and see how long the hamster has been dead on the wheel.  Seriously though, wouldn't it be safe to say that every year is "your" year because you are still alive and able to continue on with your existence??

Secret: I did kind of say that to myself this year.

But ONLY after I had a mild nervous breakdown 2 weeks into this glorious year.  So, I think it's okay.

....right?

No.  There is no excuse for the fact that I want 2012 to be "the year of me".  But just hear me out, k?

I started this year with some major changes being thrown at me (the specifics aren't necessary here... sorry all of my stalkers) and I felt that there were many important aspects of my life that were completely out of my control.  I was just running around with life happening around me and I was just out of reach from everything I really cared about.  So I did what any 27-year old woman would do:

I sat on the floor of my living room in complete darkness and wept like a wee baby.  (to be fair, I think that is better than a lot of amazing 27-year olds I look up to... Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Nat Jaffe... (look him up))

I quickly realized that I couldn't live this way so I made a list (ask my stalkers - I LOVE LISTS) of all the things out of my control with all the possible outcomes of these things.  I finished the note, and stared at it.  Everything was now in within my control because all the outcomes were clearly listed on paper.  Somehow that helped me get back on track.

PHEW.

So here I am, almost one month into 2012, and I am feeling like I am ready to take on the world.  And I will.  Because it's all within my control.

Until the next time I need to be a bit more introspective (I promise this won't be what I post about all the time),

The girl who is making every year our year.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

P.S.  I thought I would also put together a small list (see?!?! I LOVE EM!) of some hilarious moments since I last posted:

-the time the guy came into the clinic I was temping at and legit flirted with me while explaining he needed to get an STD check from "all the ladies" he'd been with
-the time my dishwasher exploded and all I could do was say "holy shit" repeatedly
-I pushed my car with my kayak strapped to the roof to a new dwelling
-I went out of my way to grab cats
-I played a music gig where I also got to be in an old saloon fight
-The local radio mentioned me as I was stepping out of the shower
-I started making jam and set my stove on fire

Once you leave home, you can never go back...well you can, you just have to be half in the bag.

Happy belated E-weekend (Easter weekend)!  

Happy belated E-day (Earth Day)! 

And Happy almost E-day (Election day)!

This past weekend I decided to take a trip to my hometown Winnipeg, Manitoba. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I LOVE flying. (Is it because of the feeling of freedom you get from flying above the world for a few hours? Maybe.  Is it the idea of however much you drink before and during your flight being amplified ten-fold and you being able to get away with anything because (similarly to the idea of “international- water”) you are in international water-air?  YES.  YES IT IS.)  So in keeping with the theme of the weekend (the theme being drinking wine and going mental...) I am writing this blog on the airplane while drinking some lovely red table wine.  Let’s see how this goes...

Glass number 1:

Going home for me is always the best gong-show of my life.  Somehow it seems that because I am only home for a short period of time I end up seeing my family at their craziest (which is an almost deadly amount for most, not for me though!).  There will be wine, food, laughs, gross jokes, awkward moments (this usually follows the wine...) where family secrets get exposed (my cousin has a baby?!?  HA!  YEAH!  SECRETS!)

This time was no different.  I told members of my extended family all of the hilarious attempts my mom has made to get me to “find a man who can support you and your crazy artistic ways” ... I shall only give one example, and it was the introduction to my life with my mother:

I was 16.  My mother asked me to go with her to a social (don’t know what a social is?  If you don’t, YOU HAVEN’T LIVED.  Also, it is just a big party at a community hall where people drink and eat chips and dance and bid on silent auction prizes an drink and drink.  And usually the money made from that goes towards a wedding or something lame)

Glass number 2:

Shall we get this out of the way now?  When I was 16, I looked an awful lot like a soccer mom (more so than I do now, if you can believe that).  I didn’t have a heck-load of friends, and I LOVED school.  I was a complete loser, some would say (“Look at me now” Is what I would scream to them, then I would hold up a picture of my cats and wipe the tears from my face)

At this social was a bunch of my mother’s co-workers.  And I had a few drinks (I won’t lie, I started early with my love for wine.  AND LOOK WHERE I AM NOW!)  And I was a dancing FREAK.  People must’ve thought that my mom’s best friend (ie. ME) was just a partying superfreak.  And I was.  Then the slow song came on (I’ll never forget it, The Beatles “Let It Be”) and a lovely man asked me to dance.  

WHAT?!?

Here I am, the girl who is 16 years old, never kissed a boy, a girl who was certain she would marry a wrestler from the WWF (Rowdy Roddy Piper or Brett Hart to be exact) about to dance with a grown man.  

THIS IS MY ONE SHOT AT LOVE.  DON’T BLOW IT, WALKER.

So I dance with this guy, and after that song is done is THE LAST SONG OF THE NIGHT.

WHAT?!?

Glass numbwr 3:: 

(IT’s getting hardder to type.  With the planes, and the drinks.  Just saying...)

What happens after this song is over? (The song, by the way was Journey’s “Open Arms”.  A classic love song.) As the song ended, the lovely man says to me,

“I’d love to see you again; could I ask you on a date?”

And to which I reply, “You’d have to ask my mom” 

As I point to my mother, standing proudly, watching her daughter “fall in love”.

That lovely man had all the colour drain from his face.

He was so close to statutorily dating me it was scary.  

Later did I realize that my mother told him he should ask me to dance, without adding I was (a) her daughter or (b) a minor.  Neither of this fazed good ol’ mommy.  THIS is just one awesome example of the stories weshare at in opportune times with my famil.y.  

Neddleless to say, it was a fun time.

Glass numbe r4: 

...

Glass n 5:

Sorrry bout htat.. I was looking out the wind ow that last glass.  I wish I could tell time by glas;ses of wines.  “It’s four glasses of wines passt noon”  That is now my official my catchhgphrase.  

I thmnk I ned a a nap.

I reaslly lorve you guysm.  Yous know that, right?!

Whrees’ the baarf bag?  Jusst incase..

I hsould go now.  Did I mention I loves you gutys? 

Sincerely from 3000000000 fett up in the aiir (sr somethings like that) ,

Someonw who should not be drunk flying/bloggin./living//