Friday, May 18, 2012

Confessions of a stay at home rock start: the blogging debut of Laura Whidden-Wetterlin (11-4-09)

So I went to Write about Jesus (a conference that teaches you how to write songs), and Guy Zabka told me that independent artists have to keep up with web networks and blogging. It’s strange that I value communication so highly, but despise computers unabashedly. If I must be dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century then; so be it.
Everyone I met at this songwriting conference told me the same thing: ‘Laura, you have to write.’ Earthshaking in it’s simplicity, I know. One thing has been consistent about my writing over the last 4 years since I became a mother. Every time I start to write, a stream of astonishingly selfish and bitter and demanding thoughts come pouring out. I am so surprised to find this jaded little artist inside of me that I generally bring the song to a halt and walk away from the piano in a daze.

Well, according to the experts and novices alike, all that drivel has to come out of me whether I like it or not. My fellow musicians told me I must write in order to free up my creative process and allow songs to begin flowing again. They insist that if I can just get past the pent up aggression in my soul I will be able to write music that makes sense and brings hope to the normal loving humans who want to hear it. My therapist adds that I have to get the aggression out or else it will come out at times in which I have no control over it because of the enormous pressure building inside of me.
I fear expressing the deepest darkest, most immature places in my depths because I know these thoughts could be extremely hurtful to my daughter and my husband. I seem to blame them most when I don’t get what I want as soon as I want it.

There. I’ve said it. I’m angry at and blame my family when I don’t get what I want. This is the truth of the brokenness inside of me. Ouch.

Well, I know God somehow must be bigger than the 5 year old girl inside of me who wants to be a princess-rockstar. Instead I find myself the wife of a well -intentioned, human workaholic whose facial features and curls are very similar to my idea of prince charming. I live in an adorable apartment and have not one single lady in waiting to do the vacuuming, and no governesses to provide me with the hours of leisure I require. Not doing so well on the princess end of things.
I was starting to get some radio play 5 years ago, I had to do a second printing of an album or 2, I flew second class to gigs all over the country. I wasn’t a star, but I believed I was at least starting to orbit near a few of them.

Pregnancy was a pleasantly shocking/ startling/welcome/unwelcome revelation in my life. God was determined to give me the greatest teacher/gift of my life whether I thought I wanted her or not. She is so beautiful and healthy and quick to giggle. She wants to pursue life and fun and passion even more than I do (which is saying quite a bit). So my visions of castles made sense only in the light of the fact that I became and abject servant to a tiny little person with a big voice and a royalty complex of her own. She truly believes that I should facilitate her every desire and need and whim: with all her tiny heart. The trouble is that I suffer under the same delusion.

Oh God! How on earth can I be all the things I believed you asked me to become all at the same time?!!! It is too much: too much to become and too much to let go of all at the same time. It is Absolutely, unequivocally impossible. Thus begins the blogging journey of Laura Whidden–Wetterlin.

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