It has been said that “everything worth doing has been done already”. Or there’s this: “If only I had more time, if only I had more money”, then I would pursue my dreams. I’ve talked about dreams. I had them; I have them – big dreams, dreams that define me. And I can honestly say that for a long time, I actually took action to get them. I never believed that first part – that everything has been done already, but somewhere along the way I joined the people who say “if only I had more time”… “if only I had more money”… “when I get this done”… “when I get that paid for”….
In 1986, I worked in an office. Computers for word processing were new then, so only the people who had the job of typing had them. Computers held a sort of fascination for me, even though I didn’t have one because my job wasn’t to type. Well, actually the engineers did something on them too; what, I wasn’t certain. I had an office. I was the first female in that company to ever get one. That itself was a very special day full of impromptu celebration, joined by the full population of the other females all at least 10 years my senior, as I moved my stereo on which I played my inappropriate rock music into that office. But that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted this advanced degree my family could not afford. So without telling a soul, except this amazing woman whose job it was to type (see I had enough fear without hearing the “you shouldn’t’s” of others), I had that woman teach me to use the computer. On that computer, after hours, outside that wonderful office of mine, at the secretarial stations where the computers were, I typed applications on that magical thing, the computer. I typed many applications, editing and re-editing with the program, and then mailed the applications away. Those applications would take me to grad school and give me the life I have now. Sure that life is having a little issue, but it’s only temporary.
In those days, one of those engineer-types saw that I liked the computer. He told me of a game he was playing – this game where you typed commands and the game would describe, in prose, your surroundings. Those games would become fully visual later, but that game with its prose descriptions was so much better because I could see everything using the full extent of my imagination. He said the goal of the game was to get to these increasingly magnificent worlds, but he couldn’t figure out how to get to the second world. I asked if I could try. So, with my friend, the woman whose job it was to type, and who was by then was also doing her similar applications (I guess I inspired something), I sat down, and we played this game.
We took out a piece of paper and drew the surroundings. It became obvious that to get to the second world, we must cross this grass lawn. But every try to cross the lawn resulted in a nuclear explosion described by the program in glorious detail of color and wind and sound. Hours in, I decided to do the most unlikely combination of use of the little articles one had to pick up, seriously the throw-caution-to-the-wind approach, a decision born out of sheer frustration. Of the articles the game gave me, I threw a ball at a tree to knock down an umbrella. I sat in a perambulator (a fancy word for baby carriage) and I opened the umbrella. Using that umbrella as a sail, the wind carried the carriage across that grass with even more glorious prose detail than the wind and light and sound of the explosion into that second world. And then we pressed on exploring the second world — a world that was a triumph to reach, but which would take us the next four hours to draw onto the map, a world that was big and unknown, almost silent and definitely lonely even though that’s where we supposed to be. Sometimes I still think about that night, that game, the imagery on that paper, the fact that the throw-caution-to-the-wind approach worked, and certainly of the emotions. As for the emotions, I’m certain that night, that game – that almost-all-night obsessive playing of this game, itself a break from the work it takes to pursue a really big dream – was a lesson, a prophesy for feelings I would have many times in the pursuit actual life dreams afterwards.
My pursuit of my dreams would take me far from my comfort zone in much the same way, and I never took it for granted. Seriously, it’s still my entire identity, everything to me, if you will. Throughout all of the years that followed, I’ve had money, I’ve had no money, I’ve moved, I’ve loved, I’ve lost, people I held dear have died, I’ve started completely over, many times. And in those, not just the hard, but unpredictably at least to me back then, the good, there is this moment where I cross to a new world and then, without fail, just like the game, I feel alone; I feel like this new world is so scary that I just want to run back to the old world, to hang on to what is safe. That’s what I feel now. But as in that game from so many years ago, there was nuclear explosion at the end of the last world, at least for Whispergirl. And really the second world, at least for me, was inevitable, just like the game; it was always what I wanted. And so I as I sit in the silent, triumph of the second world, what now?
I read an article once where David Lee Roth talked about how he moved to New York and all he had was this suitcase just sitting on the floor of his loft. The way he described that scene, the way he described his emotions, I could see it; I could feel it. I know it. I read his words a few times, thinking “him”? David Lee Roth had that moment too? Him? Sure him, because no matter who you are, that’s how it starts – in a room, with just your suitcase in this new place, silent. In that moment, no matter how much you want your dream, you just want to curl up, you want to cry.
Ever since I can remember my dream was to be a writer. But I’ve never really done anything with it. I did my other dream, and that one took so much time. To be a writer, I needed more money, right? I have other stuff to do; shouldn’t that come first? The highest and best use of my skills, those come first, right? I don’t have the luxury to be anything but practical, right? I’ve been saying that for 20 years now. But it turns out …? I was writing. I was writing … on a rock web-site, writing about things I love. Oh, and there was that “host” thing too.
Who am I? I am Whispergirl. I am one part girlie, one part rock ‘n’ roll, one part serious, with a little bit of mischief thrown in for good measure. And I’ll be your host here, if you’ll have me. Oh and I think I’ll dabble in a little bit of writing to keep it interesting; I mean I might as well get that dream going, right? It scares me to put my name out here, to make people think this is about me, to really say this for real, to be doing something other than playing around in somebody else’s world, talking about my dreams. I fear people saying: “who does she think she is” … “I have more talent”…. “she’s not rock ‘n’ roll”… “what does she know about guitar”…”what does she know about anything”… “she’s just some silly girl who liked Van Halen”… “I mean heck, she doesn’t even look the part what with the sparkly headband and all”. Perhaps those things are true. Still, I’m going to write here, like I did before but in a much bigger way; after all I’m in that second world now. And I most certainly am going to continue to be a host for parties and such. So as I put down my suitcase and my sparkly headband – and yes of course the sparkly headband survived that nuclear blast in the first world – I am going to try to silence all of those words I fear, all of those words I hear, and keep going to make this dream come alive, to make it a vision. OMG, is that it? The difference between a dream that stays pretty and safe or one that moves to the second world – the silent, lonely yet triumphant world of … vision? That one just does it? It could be. There’s only one way to find out. And right as I type that, I hear the little words “who does she think she is?” Okay breathe Whisper, breathe, and keep going… Now what is it Andy Warhol said?
“Don’t think about making art, just get it done.
Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad,
whether they love it or hate it.
While they are deciding,
make even more art.”