Storytelling #3, more

Introduction:

I just did what I was not supposed to do: make music. I swear, when I was born everybody got together for a meeting where people said "Paul wants to be a musician. Lets stop that now." I tried out for chorus in elementary school and was rejected. Do you know how bad you have to sing to be rejected from an elementary school chorus? I have two brothers. My parents wanted my older brother to play the pedal steel guitar in country bands. My younger brother was supposed to become a classical guitarist. Me -- my parents chose short order cook or accountant. I even had some so-called friends who arranged a small intervention me to tell me I should never sing. I remember waking up the following morning and singing with the radio, then stopping because I remembered what they said.

So I did the one musical skill I wasn't told I couldn't do. I became a serious songwriter. I started in the first grade. By the time I was an adult, I had a pretty big secret self-identity as a songwriter. 

Body:

It was around this time that I read about a songwriting competition at the Kerrville Folk Music Festival in the hill country of central Texas.

I entered, and was not selected for the new folk competition. I was furious and, from that moment on, determined to get in the contest.

• entering year after year, writing constantly and sending in my best work
• rejection year after year, every year the suspense and consequences becoming higher (suicide by pizza).
• All the years this was happening, I started performing and recording while working a day job at a public library. I was also entering other songwriting competitions, and was selected for some and even was a winner at a couple of them.
• entering and being selected to compete at Columbia River Folk Music Festival, performing songs that were Kerrville rejects
• winning the competition
• performance "I could be great at romance" (1 verse)
• invitation to play main stage at Kerrville

I worked everyday for my appearance in front of the Kerrville audience.

• being on stage and performance, Steve and Cindy, Alisa
• realization that I was being paid, etc, for performing songs that had previously been rejected.
• turning and facing the festival producer like a man possessed
• getting called back for an encore. At Kerrville, everybody gets called back for a encore, but this was my encore.
• I stayed up way late at the festival, got an official ride to my hotel room, got snacks from the vending machine, cranked up the free air-conditioning, and immediately fell asleep.

Conclusion:

So what did I learn? It's really fun to compete if you're the winner but, ultimately, it's only the song that matters. Everybody is working hard to express themselves in song as well as they can. It's hard work, and I became really uncomfortable with the idea of artistic competition. 

But it is fun to win and I felt like I had won in a big way. Which taught me this lesson: the combination of vindication and victory is the sweetest revenge of all.

Storytelling #3 continued

Introduction:

song: Mockingbird

I just did what I was not supposed to do: make music.

• discouragement of music making (school, father, friends)
• I did the musical thing I wasn't told I couldn't do: I became a songwriter
• by the age of 19, my self-identity was as a singer/songwriter. 
• I entered the first songwriting competition I heard of: the Kerrville Folk Music Festival.

Body:

I entered, and was not selected for the new folk competition. I was furious and, from that moment on, determined to get in the contest.

• entering year after year, writing and sending in my best work
• rejection year after year, every year the suspense and consequences becoming higher
• entering and being selected to compete at Columbia River Folk Music Festival, performing songs that were Kerrville rejects
• winning the competition
• invitation to play main stage at Kerrville

performance of "I Could be Great at Romance" (1 verse)

I worked everyday for my appearance in front of the Kerrville audience.

• being on stage and performance, relax, Steve & Cindy, Alisa
• realization that I was being paid, etc, for performing songs that had previously been rejected.
• turning and facing the festival producer like a man possessed
• I stayed up way late at the festival, got an official ride to my hotel room, got snacks from the vending machine, cranked up the free air-conditioning, and immediately fell asleep.

Conclusion:

So what did I learn? It's really fun to compete if you're the winner and that, ultimately, it really is only the song that matters. Everybody is working hard to express themselves in song as well as they can. It's hard work, and ultimately the real reward is the song itself.

But it is fun to win and I had won in a big way. Victory and vindication.is the sweetest revenge of all.

More storytelling...

Introduction:

song: Mockingbird

I just did what I was not supposed to do: make music

• discouragement of music
• self (mis)education of music
• becoming a songwriter

I entered, and was not selected for the new folk competition. I was furious and, from that moment on, determined to get in the contest.

• entering year after year
• rejection year after year
• entering and being selected to compete at Columbia River Folk Music Festival
• invitation to play main stage at Kerrville

performance of "I Could be Great at Romance" (1 verse)

I worked everyday for my appearance in front of the Kerrville audience.

• being on stage and performance
• realization that I was being paid, etc, for performing songs that had previously been rejected.

Conclusion

What did I learn? That it's really fun to compete if you're the winner and that, ultimately, it really is only the song that matters.

But it is fun. And so is the feeling of victory and vindication.

storytelling/music #3

Intro

musical background and (mis)education

• writing songs
• teaching brother
• school chorus

Body 

what this did was make me in charge of my own education. 

• library
• radio
• radio announcers

by my late teens, I had a self-identity as a songwriter, hard-won by perseverance and stubbornness. Reading a library copy of Guitar Player Magazine, I found a small item about a songwriting competition at the Kerrville Folk Festival in the hill country of Texas.

• entering competition
• losing competition
• making it one off my life's missions
• year after year of losing

I went from being young to nearly middle aged in 1992, when I entered the Columbia River Folk Music Festival.

• competing and winning
• chosen by festival producer
• being booked for Kerrville

Preparing for appearance and performing

• knowing everything by heart
• bee charging
• realizing the songs' non-placement in contests
• the zone, of sorts

Conclusion

• being paid, hotel, flight, tickets for forever
• I'll never learn what winning is like. I did learn, however, about the luxury of air-conditioning in one of Kerrville's finest hotels. I set the temperature at 60 degrees and if I hadn't fallen asleep first, victorious and vindicated.

beginning of 3rd storytelling plan

Introduction:

I was not supposed to play music.

     1. brothers' future in music
           a) pedal steel and classical
           b) teaching guitar

     2. educational system
           a) Rejection
           b) no chances, no one noticed
           c) "self taught"

Body:

When you come from that kind of musical background, you can become defensive and possessive. And that's the frame of mind I was in when I entered my first songwriting competition.

      1. musical education, or lack of
      2. Wrote from an early age...but it was natural. I couldn't not write 
           songs.

      1. I entered a new song and was crushed when I was not selected
          to compete. I couldn't believe that there were 20 songwriters                   considered better than me. The fools! The audacity!

       2. I tried, year after year, to get into the new folk competition...

                            
       To be continued...

2nd storytelling 4

Intro:

So after an incredibly long, blessedly uneventful day of flying, I got off the airplane and zoomed to baggage claim courtesy of a wheelchair service provided by Aer Lingus Airlines. I picked up my official Rick Steves' travel bag, strapped it on my walker, tipped the wheelchair pusher and headed outside to an overcast sky and an unfamiliar setting.

And I thought: Oh my God, I'm in Ireland. Now what do I do?

Thesis:

Let me explain. I have had two accidents in my life. 

Body 1

     a) I was a young and hopeful singer/songwriter on my first national tour when I was hit by                        a car while walking. I was in Arkansas. The entire tour had to be cancelled and I couldn't drive,

     b) I would lie in bed, recovering, thinking about where I would have played that night.

     c) But worst of all, now I was afraid to travel.

Body 2

     a) Everything would change 30 years later with the second accident. This accident was much more serious than the first one.

     b) with the second one I laid in bed at rehab centers and hospitals and my brother's house for four months, later to go home to near-isolation in my messy and lonely apartment.

     c) I daydreamed about open spaces and travel and friends. I hungered for it. I made up lists of where I wanted to travel to. Ireland always topped the list.

     d) at some point, somehow, my stars had all aligned and I realized that a trip to Ireland was possible. I had the time, I had the funds, and it was the perfect trip -- a songwriting retreat run by two very good friends that fit my new physical situation perfectly.

Body 3

     a) I announced to my family on Christmas Day that I was going to Ireland. They gave me their full support. They weren't the only ones. 

     b) I had a full support team. My physical therapist, my physical trainer, my psychologist -- they all took on preparing me to finally step foot on another continent.

     c) I made all the arrangements, with Matt who answered my email with "For reals?" I bought a round-trip ticket to Dublin, applied for a passport, and made my plans. Exciting, huh? Until it almost fell apart.

     d) In the space of one hour, I was informed that my ticket wouldn't work with my physical condition, my disability checks were being cut off, and I was in danger of losing my job.

Body 4

1. Drastic times call for drastic measures.

      a) For the next week, after my predictable panic, I simply did the actions required. I bought a new ticket, I made sure forms were filled out and delivered and, basically, just did the very best I could. Before I knew it, my sister-in-law was at my door, ready to drop me of at Portland International.

       d. I was on a airplane. I was going to Ireland. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Conclusion

   a) I am so grateful that I went to Ireland. I thought about what could have happened if if I had decided to stay. I wouldn't have been merely depressed; I would have been devestated and deeply desperate. I would be all those nasty "d" words. It could have been downright dangerous. But what I realize now are what I would have missed by not going


    b) I would have missed:

• going to the pub in Donegal town to hear traditional music and witnessing the place get rowdy. 
• going with the other retreat members to the local pub with instruments then being called the next day.
• learning that relearning to walk and drinking a lot of Guinness at the pub may not be the best of ideas.
• getting to know my extremely talented new friends attending the songwriting retreat.
• the shades of the color green and the shades of the many, many sheep that are everywhere in County Donegal.
• the music of local songwriter Eunan McGregor and the most beautiful version of "True Colors" as the parting song in a pub.

    c) But most of all I would miss what it feels like to go from being someone who didn't know if he would walk or travel again to being a songwriter staring at a different ocean from a different country from a different continent. Just watching that ever changing and moody Atlantic Ocean and making up songs.

     song: Sailor Lost at Sea

2nd storytelling 3

Intro:

So after an incredibly long, blessedly uneventful day of flying, I got off the airplane and zoomed to baggage claim courtesy of a wheelchair service provided by Aer Lingus Airlines. I picked up my official Rick Steves' travel bag, strapped it on my walker, tipped the wheelchair pusher and headed outside to an overcast sky and an unfamiliar setting.

And I thought: Oh my God, I'm in Ireland. How did I get here and now what do I do?

Thesis:

I have feared travel ever since my first accident. 

Body 1

     a) I was a young and hopeful singer/songwriter on my first national tour when I was hit by                        a car while walking. I was in Arkansas. The entire tour had to be cancelled and I couldn't drive,

     b) I would lie in bed, recovering, thinking about where I would have played that night.

     c) I had no career, and, even worse, now I was afraid to travel.

Body 2

     a) Everything would change 30 years later with the second accident. This accident was much more serious than the first one.

     b) with the second one I laid in bed at rehab centers and hospitals and my brother's house for four months, later to go home to near-isolation in my messy and lonely apartment.

     c) I daydreamed about open spaces and travel and friends. I hungered for it.

     d) at some point I realized that a trip to Ireland was possible.

Body 3

     a) I announced to my family on Christmas Day that I was going to Ireland. They gave me their full support. They weren't the only ones. 

     b) I had a full support team. My physical therapist, my physical trainer, my psychologist -- they all took on preparing me to finally step foot on another continent.

     c) I made all the arrangements, with Matt who answered my email with "For reals?" I bought a round-trip ticket to Dublin, applied for a passport, and made my plans. Exciting, huh? Until it almost fell apart.

     d) In the space of one hour, I was informed that my ticket wouldn't work with my physical condition, my disability checks were being cut off, and I was in danger of losing my job.

Body 4

     a) Trip almost gets cancelled when ticket, disability, and job are all threatened.

      b) Determination; to hell with expense; I am going.

      c) For the next week I went through the motions and packed, took care of details like getting to the airport, getting home from the airport, little things like that. Before I knew it, my sister-in-law was at my door, ready to drop me of at Portland International.

       d. I was on a airplane. I was going to Ireland. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Body 5

    a) I take a bus to Donegal county and look out the window and thinking "This is what I dreamed about in rehab." It was all different shades of green. There were sheep everywhere.

    b) I met some of my retreat mates in Donegal and we went out to dinner and then to a pub to hear traditional music. The place got rowdy. I knew I was in the right place.

    c) songwriting retreat, ocean, cliffs, new friends, compulsive writing.

    d) pub at night, Eunan, playing in pub, pub calls us, locals.

Conclusion

    a) I get emotional at last morning meeting. "I won."

    b) First half of "Sailor Lost at Sea."

2nd storytelling 2

Intro:

So after an incredibly long, blessedly uneventful day of flying, I got off the airplane and zoomed to baggage claim courtesy of a wheelchair service provided by Aer Lingus Airlines. I picked up my official Rick Steves' travel bag, strapped it on my walker, tipped the wheelchair pusher and headed outside to an overcast sky and an unfamiliar setting.

And I thought: Oh my God, I'm in Ireland. How did I get here and now what do I do?

Body 1:

Let me explain. All my life I've believed that people like me don't travel. Traveling is for other people. It's one of those things, like excitement and true love, that other people experience and I get to hear the stories and look at photographs. I don't know where I got that idea.

a. cost me experiences
     1. Japan
     2. Paris

I learned to travel later in my 20s, but that was cut short by getting in my first accident.
      1. career
      2. fear of travel

transition: 

Years passed. I began working in special education, moved to Texas, moved to Oregon, never traveling abroad but always planning it. 

Body 2:

A year ago this past February, I was in an accident that left me unable to walk. I'll spare you the gory details. I'll spare myself the gory details too,

     1. I ended up having surgery and spent the next four months with my legs in braces, unable to move. First the hospital, then two physical rehab centers. From there I lived with my brother and his family. Then I went back home to my apartment, where, apart from home health and the occasional visitor, I stayed in isolation for another four months. It was the summer of the open door. I fantasized being outside, like I fantasized about open spaces and fast food cheeseburgers in the rehabs.

      2. By December, I was able to get around a lot more and realized that I could go to Ireland. But would I?

       a. I announced it to my family on Christmas Day.
       b. I emailed my friend Matt and told him. He emailed me back immediately with "For reals?"
       c. I informed my physical therapist and physical trainer and psychologist and they started training me for the trip,

Body 3:

      1. Trip almost gets cancelled when ticket, disability, and job are all threatened.

      2. Determination; to hell with expense; I am going.

      3. For the next week I went through the motions and packed, took care of details like getting to the airport, getting home from the airport, little things like that. Before I knew it, my sister-in-law was at my door, ready to drop me of at Portland International.

       4. I was on a airplane. I was going to Ireland. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Conclusion:

    1. I take a bus to Donegal county and look out the window and thinking "This is what I dreamed about in rehab." It was all different shades of green. There were sheep everywhere.

     2. Songwriting retreat: meeting people, writing songs, going to pubs

     3. I get emotional at last morning meeting. "I won."

     4. First half of "Sailor Lost at Sea."

2nd storytelling

Intro: description of looking out bedroom window and the majesty of the cliffs, the ever-changing mood of the ocean, the soft, lush shades of green that you see everywhere. Then I come to full attention and think: Damn! I'm in Ireland! How did I get here?

Body:
1. The past...needed at home...accident...before you know it, life changes and you get older.

2. Life throws me a curve ball with this accident, without which I would have never gone.

3. Going to Ireland and everything that threatened to stop it. I wake up the next morning and look out the window and remember where I am. By the end of the trip, I knew I'd have a lot more to remember.

Conclusion: I'd become friends with these new people, and I am feeling strangely emotional at our last morning meeting. I knew that I was going to miss everybody. But the past year and a quarter flashed in front of me, the remembering of how I couldn't walk. And it occurred time: I won. For once in my sad and wretched life I won.

Score one for me. 

Storytelling 5

farmboy is taking a storytelling class and is preparing his first story.

Outline 5

Introduction:

I was waiting for the ambulance, lying where I had fallen on the concrete and gravel, when it started raining. I thought, well, it just doesn't get worse than this. Little did I know. 

-- going to emergency
-- falling twice
-- admitted into hospital
-- diagnosis and surgery
-- moved to physical rehab, legs in braces

Middle 1: life in rehab
-- "surreal" and "time machine"
-- haven't lived with people/walls
-- preconceptions about rehab
-- having own room, friends with instruments
-- but it was the staff...
-- examples of staff
           -- multicultural
           -- caring
           -- humor
           -- staff would hang out
-- how staff broke through walls
-- making relationships w/staff
-- (song) keep the pain meds coming

Middle 2: mental breakdown

-- surgeon gives okay
-- try to stand, crying, flashback, therapists' reactions
-- the next two weeks, failure, misinformation
-- desperation, suicidal thoughts, dependency

Middle 3: leaving rehab

-- another transition
-- going to second rehab, brother's house
-- isolation and too much time to think
-- the novelty of loneliness
-- hanging out, by rehab

Conclusion: a work-in-progress

Another thing I did after I could leave the apartment and get around was get professional help. I knew I was in over my head. 

-- emotional health work
         -- therapist
         -- psychiatrist
         -- outpatient mental health rehab
-- therapist: "they are not your friends"; "live your life"

I am living my life It's not easy and I hate it sometimes. I still miss the people from the rehab and will be grieving for a long time. I still can't believe they are not my friends, no matter how I try. And, believe me, I try. But in the meantime I live my life. And I do things that I never would have done without these experiences:

-- becoming closer to a few people
-- songwriting and performing
-- storytelling class
-- Ireland

-- in other words, I'm living my life, no matter how much it hurts.  
-- playing music at rehab
-- I am a work-in-progress. I am living my life and I can only trust I am moving in the right direction.

Storytelling 4

farmboy is taking a storytelling class and is preparing his first story.

Outline 4

Introduction:

I was waiting for the ambulance, lying where I had fallen on the concrete and gravel, when it started raining. I thought, well, it just doesn't get worse than this. Little did I know. This was just the first in a line of transitions.

-- going to emergency
-- falling twice
-- admitted into hospital
-- diagnosis and surgery
-- moved to physical rehab, legs in braces

Middle 1: life in rehab

-- preconceptions about rehab
-- "...surreal and time machine"
-- having own room, friends with instruments
-- (song) keep the pain meds coming
-- but it was the staff...
-- examples of staff
           -- multicultural
           -- caring
           -- humor
           -- staff would hang out
-- it had been years since I lived with people
-- insert personal info re: walls
-- how staff broke through walls

Middle 2: mental breakdown

-- surgeon gives okay
-- try to stand, crying, flashback, therapists' reactions
-- the next two weeks, failure, misinformation
-- desperation, suicidal thoughts, dependency

Middle 3: leaving rehab

-- another transition
-- going to second rehab, brother's house
-- isolation and too much time to think
-- the novelty of loneliness
-- hanging out, by rehab
-- wanting connection
-- (song) what did I do

Conclusion: a work-in-progress

Another thing I did after I could leave the apartment and get around was get professional help. I knew I was in over my head. 

-- emotional health work
         -- therapist
         -- psychiatrist
         -- outpatient mental health rehab
-- therapist: "they are not your friends"; "live your life"

I am living my life It's not easy and I hate it sometimes. I still miss the people from the rehab and will be grieving for a long time. I still can't believe they are not my friends, no matter how I try. And, believe me, I try. But in the meantime I live my life. And I do things that I never would have done without these experiences:

-- becoming closer to a few people
-- songwriting and performing
-- storytelling class
-- Ireland

in other words, I'm living my life, no matter how much it hurts. I m getting help. I am a work-in-progress and I am moving in the right direction.

Storytelling 3

farmboy is taking a storytelling class and is preparing his first story.

Outline 3

Introduction:

I was waiting for the ambulance, lying where I had fallen on the concrete and gravel, when it started raining. I thought, well, it just doesn't get worse than this. Little did I know. This was just the first in a line of transitions.

-- going to emergency
-- falling twice
-- admitted into hospital
-- diagnosis and surgery
-- moved to physical rehab

Middle 1: life in rehab

-- preconceptions about rehab
-- "...surreal and time machine"
-- having own room, friends with instruments
-- (song) keep the pain meds coming
-- but it was the staff...
-- examples of staff
           -- multicultural
           -- caring
           -- humor
-- it had been years since I lived with people
-- insert personal info re: walls
-- how staff broke through walls

Middle 2: mental breakdown

-- surgeon gives okay
-- try to stand, crying, flashback, therapists' reactions
-- the next two weeks, on deadline, misinformation
-- desperation, suicidal thoughts

Middle 3: leaving rehab

-- another transition
-- going to second rehab, brother's house
-- isolation and too much time to think
-- the novelty of loneliness
-- hanging out, down the street
-- wanting connection
-- (song) what did I do

Conclusion: a work-in-progress

Another thing I did after I could leave the apartment and get around was get professional help. I knew I was in over my head

-- emotional health work
         -- therapist
         -- psychiatrist
         -- outpatient mental health rehab
-- therapist: "they are not your friends"; "live your life"

I am living my life It's not easy and I hate it sometimes. I still miss the people from the rehab and will be grieving for a long time. I still can't believe they are not my friends, no matter how I try. And, believe me, I try. But in the meantime I live my life. And I do things that I never would have done without these experiences:

-- becoming closer to a few people
-- songwriting and performing
-- storytelling class
-- Ireland
-- in other words, I'm living my life, no matter how much it hurts. I m getting help. I am a work-in-progress and I am moving in the right direction.

(song) but I will

Storytelling 2

farmboy is taking a storytelling class and is preparing his first story.

Outline 2

Introduction:

I was waiting for the ambulance, lying where I had fallen on the concrete and gravel, when it started raining. I thought, well, it just doesn't get worse than this. Little did I know.

-- going to emergency
-- falling twice
-- admitted into hospital
-- diagnosis and surgery
-- moved to physical rehab

"There are two ways I have of describing what my experience was like: surreal and time machine.

Middle 1: life in rehab

-- preconceptions about rehab
-- having own room, friends with instruments
-- changing places with real life/movie
-- but it was the staff...
-- insert personal info re: walls
-- how staff broke through walls
-- I like people. I need people.

Middle 2: mental breakdown

-- surgeon gives okay
-- try to stand, crying, flashback, therapists' reactions
-- the next two weeks, on deadline, misinformation
-- desperation, suicidal thoughts

Middle 3: leaving rehab

-- going to second rehab, brother's house
-- isolation and too much time to think
-- the novelty of loneliness
-- hanging out, down the street
-- wanting connection

Middle 4: recovery, or something like it

-- therapist 1
-- therapist 2
-- "not your friends"
-- "live your life"

Conclusion: a work-in-progress

-- living my life
-- emotional health work
-- other work
-- songwriting
-- Ireland
-- still a long way off, but the work continues
--still needing connection
-- standing outside rehab
-- going home, where, like it or not, there is life to be lived

Storytelling 1

Outline for storytelling class:

title?

Introduction:


           Scene of accident; ambulance; hospital

Intro statement 


         The most descriptive terms for my experience: surreal and time machine...

Middle section 1

          Going to rehab. Expectations and reality. Writing songs.

          Staff at rehab. Rehab trading place with real life.

Middle section 2

           Learning to stand. Mental breakdown. Getting worse. 

           

           Leaving rehab.            .               

           Stops at 2nd rehab and brother's house.

Middle section 3

          Going home. Isolation. Thinking of 1st rehab, needing to be part

          Going to rehab, longing. Getting professional help. Trying to recover. 

          "They are not your friends."

Conclusion

          Going on with life and trying, working. New experiences, Ireland...

          I am always longing to be back with those people. 

          But I'm trying to move on. I'm trying...