Category: music

Uncharted

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“Compare where you are to where you want to be and you’ll get nowhere.”
No words.
My tears won’t make any room for more,
And it don’t hurt like anything I’ve ever felt before,
This is no broken heart, no familiar scars,
This territory goes UNCHARTED.
Just me, in a room sunk down in a house in a town, and I don’t breathe,
No I never meant to let it get away from me
Now, I’ve too much to hold, everybody has to get their hands on gold,
And I want UNCHARTED.
Stuck under the ceiling I made, I can’t help but feeling…

I’m going down.

Follow if you want, I won’t just hang around,
Like you’ll show me where to go,
I’m already out of foolproof ideas, so don’t ask me how to get started,
It’s all UNCHARTED.
Each day, I’m counting up the minutes, till I get alone, ’cause I can’t stay
In the middle of it all, it’s nobody’s fault, but I’m so low
Never knew how much I didn’t know,
Oh, everything is UNCHARTED.
I know I’m getting nowhere, when I only sit and stare like…

I’m going down. 

Follow if you want, I won’t just hang around,
Like you’ll show me where to go,
I’m already out of foolproof ideas, so don’t ask me how to get started,
It’s all UNCHARTED.

Jump start my kaleidoscope heart,
Love to watch the colors fade,
They may not make sense,
But they sure made me.
I won’t go as a passenger, 

No waiting for the road to be laid
Though I may be going down,
I’ll take in flame over burning out.
Compare where you are to where you want to be, and you’ll get nowhere.

Uncharted

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“Compare where you are to where you want to be and you’ll get nowhere.”
No words.
My tears won’t make any room for more,
And it don’t hurt like anything I’ve ever felt before,
This is no broken heart, no familiar scars,
This territory goes UNCHARTED.
Just me, in a room sunk down in a house in a town, and I don’t breathe,
No I never meant to let it get away from me
Now, I’ve too much to hold, everybody has to get their hands on gold,
And I want UNCHARTED.
Stuck under the ceiling I made, I can’t help but feeling…

I’m going down.

Follow if you want, I won’t just hang around,
Like you’ll show me where to go,
I’m already out of foolproof ideas, so don’t ask me how to get started,
It’s all UNCHARTED.
Each day, I’m counting up the minutes, till I get alone, ’cause I can’t stay
In the middle of it all, it’s nobody’s fault, but I’m so low
Never knew how much I didn’t know,
Oh, everything is UNCHARTED.
I know I’m getting nowhere, when I only sit and stare like…

I’m going down. 

Follow if you want, I won’t just hang around,
Like you’ll show me where to go,
I’m already out of foolproof ideas, so don’t ask me how to get started,
It’s all UNCHARTED.

Jump start my kaleidoscope heart,
Love to watch the colors fade,
They may not make sense,
But they sure made me.
I won’t go as a passenger, 

No waiting for the road to be laid
Though I may be going down,
I’ll take in flame over burning out.
Compare where you are to where you want to be, and you’ll get nowhere.

music to my ears

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June. 1990. Sacramento. Football stadium in the guise of a concert venue. My first live show.
            “Where are our seats?” I asked my two friends—J and T—who were flanking me as we walked across the green grass of the field.
            “Up…there.” J pointed approximately two thousand rows up. We turned from there toward the stage, gauging the distance. Then moaned. Billy Joel’s greatest hits was playing over the loud speaker, beckoning us toward the stage like a siren’s song, where a hundred people sat on the grass in sporadic groups.
            “Let’s just wander over there,” T suggested. “When they check our tickets, we’ll leave and find our seats.” Yeah. Seemed logical.
            So we joined the crowd on the five yard line just as the opening act took the stage. No one checked our tickets, and the empty spots on the grass around us quickly began filling with fans. As we swayed and attempted to sing along to the weird British band no one’s ever heard of, our trio smiled at each other, none of us willing to do the right thing and give up our spots, while individually wondering if we could be thrown in Juvenile Hall for our actions. After a while, however, it was pretty evident that we were safe. As Bros made their lackluster exit…the teenaged shrieking began. I guarantee I was one of the loudest.
sing it, Deb!

            When she took the stage—the girl who, for years, had molded and inspired everything from the way I wore my hair in a high, seemingly-sloppy pony tail, to the little faces I drew on my knees through the rip in my jeans, to her trademark black fedora I simply had to have—it felt like I was in a dream. I never knew you could be so close to a celebrity. And it was love at first sight. She opened with this, and two hours later (after a few thousand signature hops, fists, finger points and jazz fingers), ended with this. (PS: I still know the dance.) As promised by Deb, there truly was electricity in the air that night. And, as far as live music…I was hooked.
Twenty years later, I haven’t looked back.



Here’s a little sampling of who I’ve seen live on stage:
Debbie Gibson (twice), No Doubt. Backstreet Boys (twice), Marie Osmond, The Eagles, Great White, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon, Nickleback, Panic at the Disco, Gavin DeGraw, Don Henley, Barry Manilow (twice), Marilyn Manson, Dasboard Confessional, Ingrid Michaelson, Stained, Harry Connick, Jr., Mandy Moore, Lyle Lovett, Bret Michaels, Sara Bareilles (twice), Maroon 5 (twice), Paramore, Lonestar Attitude, CCR, OneRepublic, Doobie Brothers, Billy Joel, Train, and too many cover bands and Beatles tribute bands to name, although I do have my favorites.

Who I still want to see:
Debbie Gibson (again), Alanis Morissette, McFly, The Spice Girls (don’t judge me!), Lionel Richie, The Corrs, Sara Bareilles (every time she rolls through town, please), Eliza Doolittle, James Taylor

Bonus list of who-I-still-want-to-sees:
The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Michael Jackson
“hee-hoo”

“If there’s a Rock and Roll heaven, well you know they got a *bleep* of a band…”

music to my ears

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June. 1990. Sacramento. Football stadium in the guise of a concert venue. My first live show.
            “Where are our seats?” I asked my two friends—J and T—who were flanking me as we walked across the green grass of the field.
            “Up…there.” J pointed approximately two thousand rows up. We turned from there toward the stage, gauging the distance. Then moaned. Billy Joel’s greatest hits was playing over the loud speaker, beckoning us toward the stage like a siren’s song, where a hundred people sat on the grass in sporadic groups.
            “Let’s just wander over there,” T suggested. “When they check our tickets, we’ll leave and find our seats.” Yeah. Seemed logical.
            So we joined the crowd on the five yard line just as the opening act took the stage. No one checked our tickets, and the empty spots on the grass around us quickly began filling with fans. As we swayed and attempted to sing along to the weird British band no one’s ever heard of, our trio smiled at each other, none of us willing to do the right thing and give up our spots, while individually wondering if we could be thrown in Juvenile Hall for our actions. After a while, however, it was pretty evident that we were safe. As Bros made their lackluster exit…the teenaged shrieking began. I guarantee I was one of the loudest.
sing it, Deb!

            When she took the stage—the girl who, for years, had molded and inspired everything from the way I wore my hair in a high, seemingly-sloppy pony tail, to the little faces I drew on my knees through the rip in my jeans, to her trademark black fedora I simply had to have—it felt like I was in a dream. I never knew you could be so close to a celebrity. And it was love at first sight. She opened with this, and two hours later (after a few thousand signature hops, fists, finger points and jazz fingers), ended with this. (PS: I still know the dance.) As promised by Deb, there truly was electricity in the air that night. And, as far as live music…I was hooked.
Twenty years later, I haven’t looked back.



Here’s a little sampling of who I’ve seen live on stage:
Debbie Gibson (twice), No Doubt. Backstreet Boys (twice), Marie Osmond, The Eagles, Great White, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon, Nickleback, Panic at the Disco, Gavin DeGraw, Don Henley, Barry Manilow (twice), Marilyn Manson, Dasboard Confessional, Ingrid Michaelson, Stained, Harry Connick, Jr., Mandy Moore, Lyle Lovett, Bret Michaels, Sara Bareilles (twice), Maroon 5 (twice), Paramore, Lonestar Attitude, CCR, OneRepublic, Doobie Brothers, Billy Joel, Train, and too many cover bands and Beatles tribute bands to name, although I do have my favorites.

Who I still want to see:
Debbie Gibson (again), Alanis Morissette, McFly, The Spice Girls (don’t judge me!), Lionel Richie, The Corrs, Sara Bareilles (every time she rolls through town, please), Eliza Doolittle, James Taylor

Bonus list of who-I-still-want-to-sees:
The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Michael Jackson
“hee-hoo”

“If there’s a Rock and Roll heaven, well you know they got a *bleep* of a band…”

"28"

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Here it comes…
Guess for years I have tried to calm
What’s inside me but something’s wrong
I don’t know what to say
To give me away
The dream’s the same:
I’m alone on a moving train
Wake up here and I can’t complain
And there’s the first mistake
I tried not to make
Next time I’m around that’s a habit to break
When I turn 28
Things are gonna be great at 28
So don’t sit so close
Can’t you see that I’m already yours?
Every day I’ve been living indoors
Tell them I was brave
Tell yourself the same
Tell everyone that I plan to go straight
When I turn 28
Things are gonna be great at 28
They said that I would get used to the change
But I can’t keep my eyes on the page
Shouldn’t be writing these songs at my age
The candle’s lit
Waiting patient for me to sit
But none of last year’s clothes still fit
And I keep waiting for you to enter the room
I made my wish let me give it to you
When I turn 28
Things are gonna be great at 28
At 28, tell everyone they’ll just have to wait
When I turn 29
Things are gonna be fine at 29.

Lyrics by Lorene Scafaria

"28"

Leave a comment
Here it comes…
Guess for years I have tried to calm
What’s inside me but something’s wrong
I don’t know what to say
To give me away
The dream’s the same:
I’m alone on a moving train
Wake up here and I can’t complain
And there’s the first mistake
I tried not to make
Next time I’m around that’s a habit to break
When I turn 28
Things are gonna be great at 28
So don’t sit so close
Can’t you see that I’m already yours?
Every day I’ve been living indoors
Tell them I was brave
Tell yourself the same
Tell everyone that I plan to go straight
When I turn 28
Things are gonna be great at 28
They said that I would get used to the change
But I can’t keep my eyes on the page
Shouldn’t be writing these songs at my age
The candle’s lit
Waiting patient for me to sit
But none of last year’s clothes still fit
And I keep waiting for you to enter the room
I made my wish let me give it to you
When I turn 28
Things are gonna be great at 28
At 28, tell everyone they’ll just have to wait
When I turn 29
Things are gonna be fine at 29.

Lyrics by Lorene Scafaria