Well, I’ve been back from LA for a week now. I have to confess, visiting LA is always a little bittersweet for me. I moved four years ago because I wanted to try out a new place, sure, but I never really meant to leave. I mean, I was going to go back after 6 months or so. Who would honestly leave LA for Wisconsin, given the choice? Not I. So even though I love my life in Chicago, and I’m happy where I’m at, as soon as I see the Grand Canyon from the plane window I get butterflies in my belly. Little flutter butterflies whispering, “Yay! We’re almost home!”

I had a wonderful time visiting my friends, wandering around Venice Beach, getting a sunburn, and all the things I used to take for granted. It was definitely hard to leave…thankfully, spring has finally hit the Midwest and Chicago has been warm and sunny since I got back. Otherwise I’d probably be scrounging the couch for enough change to get a ticket back to California…

Friday and Saturday at the Expo were just as great as Thursday. In fact, Friday was definitely the hardcore learning day – I started with my first panel (“Opportunities for Music Placement in Film & TV”) at 9am, and didn’t get back to my friend’s apartment until after 10pm, with just enough time to myself for dinner with my playwrite and actor friend John. I attended panels with celebrities like Jill Sobule (best known for the song “I Kissed A Girl” and the “Jill’s Next Record” website) and John Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls, and learned about how to get my music into movies and TV from the people who have placed music in Pulp Fiction, Entourage, Big Love, and my new favorite show Weeds. I even had a one-on-one session with a professional publisher and industry exec who listened to my demo album and highly recommended I focus on film and TV placement.

Not too shabby for a couple days’ work, eh?

Friday night was an artist showcase featuring four successful, professional songwriters, one of whom I of course love – Jonatha Brooke. I almost didn’t make it to the show, though, as John and I had enjoyed a lavish spread at The Grill. I had a few glasses of wine and was a bit giggly by the time I left, but apparently both Slash and Alice Cooper were at the same restaurant. Which, instead of leading me to go snap a picture or something, got me into a huge discussion with the hostess about how hard it is to beat Slash on Guitar Hero.

At the show, Rivers Rutherford, who has written for Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, played some fabulous redneck rough music; Darrell Scott not only played his own stuff but joined in with some beautiful guitar harmonies on everyone else’s tunes; Jonatha played some beautiful covers along with one of my favorites, Because I Told You So; and Desmond Child impressed the crowd completely with not just his music (he’s written for Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Mariah Carey…) but his hilarious banter. It kicked some pretty serious ass. Lots of us were pretty exhausted by this point, so we just sat on the floor of the club and enjoyed the music.

On Saturday I got to see a one-on-one interview with Desmond about how he wrote some of his biggest hits. It was a great session, though I was a little disappointed by his attitude as he walked out – another girl and I both tried to say hi and just thank him for the great session, but he didn’t even bother to look our way. Too busy for the likes of us silly little songwriters, I suppose. Oh well, he’s still a frickin’ rock star. I also got to see a great panel with Evan Taubenfeld, who co-wrote some of Avril Lavigne’s big hits with her. He’s a little too young for me, but damn was he funny! One of those guys who makes jokes and witty remarks one after another without ever cracking a smile or laughing at himself, which just makes it that much funnier.

A night out partying, a long day at the beach, and dinner with Cate and her baby boy Ben, and then I was on a plane back to Chicago. Where I am now. About to go take a nap.

I don’t have time to do the full story right now, but I do have pictures! Which is really all you people want, I know. Silly Americans.

So here are some choice pics from our trip to Europe. I’m writing from an underground Internet station in Florence while we wait for our overnight train to Amsterdam. When I get home next week I promise to write up the full trip – trust me, it’s worth the read. Craziness… But for now, pictures!!

Budapest, Hungary

the Back Pack hostel, where we stayed in the Love Shack (not kidding, that’s what it was called)

standing on the, um, Elizabeth Bridge…I think (we kept getting all the bridges confused)

sitting on the Liberty Bridge, headed for the Gellert Monument

climbing the steps toward the Gellert Monument and Citadel

Julie discovers her inner 8-year old

Adam discovers where the Hungarian homeless go to crap

little old Hungarian women are badminton ninjas – this is the edge of a cliff

Budapest at night

Vienna, Austria

um, yeah

aw, our first time standing on top of a 9-story aquarium in a foreign city together!

more coming soon – only a few minutes left on the net…

Venice, Italy

Florence, Italy

I’m a night owl, and generally function far more effectively between 10pm and 8am than I do during “normal” working hours. In fact, I’ll get more done during one all-nighter than I did the previous 5 working days. This may simply be a sign of my hummingbird-like attention span, or it might mean that I’m supposed to be nocturnal and should just go with it.

But either way, one 48-hour day a week is pretty much the limit if I’m going to be at all productive. So why, why, why am I staring at my laptop and a long list of to-do’s at 1:30am with only one night of sleep under my belt since the last time I was in this position?

At least this time the thermostat is working.

So! I’m taking a quick break from the drudgery to blog, because I love to blog and because you love it when I blog. So let’s begin with this:

Ah Brett Favre, when will you finally retire? Still sexy though, still damn sexy. Ah yeah.

Also decidedly sexy is the great guru of calm, Cesar Milan. Yes, it’s true, I’ve got a crush on the Dog Whisperer. What can I say? Any man who can tame a snarling Rottweiler, convince a dippy spoiled rich chick that she needs to stop buying her Pomeranian (named Prada, I’m not kidding) Gucci sweaters and Evian, and still sound just as smooth as Antonio Banderas as Puss-in-Boots gets my vote.

Except for two things… One, he isn’t the original Dog Whisperer – Paul Owens is. But since Mr Owens lacks the sex appeal and Southern California clientele, I guess he got the boot. And the second thing is – well, it’s the Landrollers.

I can’t decide if they’re seriously, seriously dorky, or if I want a pair.

Speaking of dogs, it has recently been discovered that my puggle is actually part mogwai and part gremlin. Interchangeably. On her own whims.

Yeah. Just like that.

She’s frickin’ adorable though, honestly. No matter how many times she craps on the floor, pees on the couch, or refuses to come when I tell her (oh Cesar, where are you when I need you??), I can’t help but be completely in love with her. The vet says she weighs 12lbs and is almost fully grown – I swear she’s at least 15lbs, but I’d be thrilled if she stays this small! Much easier to carry up the stairs.

I love technology. It lets me show everyone how frickin’ adorable my puppy really is. (If you can’t link to that for some reason, try this. I promise it’s worth it.)

On a down note, I am still in shock over the death of Heath Ledger. I’m not a star-chaser, and I generally think people who obsess over the lives of Britney and Lindsay and Paris and whatnot are pretty sad. But Heath was really talented, and was one of those people you just don’t expect to lose from the world. I can’t explain it – it’s just that he was young, attractive, successful, and part of my life via his roles in movies that I’ve enjoyed (10 Things I Hate About You, A Knight’s Tale, Candy), and he was someone you’d just never expect to lose in this manner. I can’t decide if I’m glad or not that they’re saying his overdose was accidental. It’s easier for me to identify with someone in his position who was losing their grip on themselves and their reality, someone in the limelight who was deeply lonely (a la Owen Wilson), than to think that he just partied too hard one night and whoops! OD’d. And don’t even get me started on the fact that an Olsen twin was involved. That’s just embarrassing.

Also embarrassing, Tom Cruise. Just in general.

So most of you know I used to live in LA, and while I was in LA, I sang a cappella with the SoCal VoCals, and when I sang with the VoCals, we recorded a few albums with Gabriel Mann. I adore Gabe. He’s a monster in the studio, a brilliant songwriter, and one of those guys who has made being kind of geeky completely hot. Dead sexy.

See what I mean?

I’ve also performed with the lovely and talented Kyler England, another LA resident, and am completely and totally in love with the music of Adrianne. Her EP, boy songs, is one of my favorite albums right now – versions of “Eleanor Rigby,” “I’m on Fire” and “Girlfriend in a Coma” that are just phenomenal. Amazing.

I tell you all this so that you’ll understand how overcome with both excitement and envy I was when I was told that Gabe, Kyler and Adrianne have formed a power trio, The Rescues. They’re touring a bit, they have songs up on their MySpace page, and I’m currently trying to figure out how to get their debut CD. I would have ordered it without hearing a note. The combination of these three is just…good god I’m jealous.

Okay, it’s almost 4am and I’ve got to hit the hay so I can push through tomorrow. I’ve only got a few days left to finish a whole slew of things, and then Adam and I will be on a plane to Budapest. Yes, Budapest. We’re backpacking around Europe for a few weeks, which I’ve always wanted to do and have always managed to not do. So Budapest, Prague, Vienna, Paris, who knows? We’ll wind up in Amsterdam, and then I’m back in time to hit the road for more college touring in February.

I’ll be blogging from overseas, don’t you worry.

It has been a wild and crazy weekend my friends, and I confess that I have been riding the procrastination train with a vengeance. Tonight will be an all-nighter, complete with frozen Junior Mints and a pile of Kiera Knightley movies (there’s something about watching Pride and Prejudice as the sun comes up that is oddly satisfying), trying to catch up on my many projects and trying to redeem myself a bit.

But the weekend was well worth it. Friday night was an excursion to The Baton Lounge with Adam and a group of friends and family to see the city’s hottest transvestite review. Now I’m a damn open-minded girl, and I’ve had friends from all walks of life, but I’m still trying to decide what was most disconcerting about the evening: trying to remind myself that the really hot chick onstage shaking her ass in ways I’ve never been able to is actually a guy, or trying not to be grossed out when the largest performer (and I mean large, like to the point where it’s part of her act) came out wearing a skin-tight rhinestone catsuit and a Cher wig circa 1987. Kinda like this, but much, much bigger:

So the next night, you’d think I’d have been good and stayed home, gotten my work done, etc. Which was part of the plan…until it was brought up that a new friend of mine had never been to a strip club. Which, in my opinion, is just unthinkable for someone with the adventurous personality she displays. So Adam, our roommate Dave, and a few other friends loaded her into the car and headed for our favorite south side strip club. I’ll leave the details out to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent-anymore, but let’s just say that when I fell asleep finally around 5am, it was with many colorful images in my head and the satisfaction of knowing that my friends had a lovely time.

As for the headline of this entry, I feel that there may be those of you out there who see us “rockstars” as some sort of higher beings, blessed with good looks and big brains and unable to make mistakes or say inappropriate things. In case any of you are out there, still believing in the power of celebrity infallibility in spite of Britney’s desperate attempts to prove you wrong, I think it’s my duty to dispel that myth and remind you that we’re just human. A moment from my week:

Adam and his friends have been going to a bar and playing trivia once a week for years. They compete against other teams, answering questions in 5 different categories, and the team that has the most correct answers each week wins the pot, sometimes a few hundred bucks (which, when his team wins, is given to the waitress as a generous tip). There’s one person who runs the show each week, asking the questions over a PA system, giving multiple choice answers, and then announcing the correct answers and the winners at the end of the night.

Sounds simple enough, right? Well, the girl who used to run the trivia was nice enough but was, unfortunately, poorly equipped for the main duty of the job, i.e. reading out loud. I cannot even begin to recall the number of times that I personally witnessed her flubbing words that most of us mastered in grade school, and not just once – she consistently mispronounced or got confused by the same word or phrase each time she’d read and re-read a question. Apparently the boys used to mock her pretty openly for this, and, since she had a good sense of humor, it was never a big deal.

A few months ago, though, she got a different job and had to abandon her trivia duties, and her replacement – another south side girl I don’t know personally – was, believe it or not, even worse. If girl #1 misread 4 out of 50 questions a night, girl #2 was thoroughly confused by at least 10. And it’s not as if they were handed a script and asked to read cold – these girls were responsible for finding the questions and answers beforehand. Plenty of time to check for tough words, make sure everything made sense – and still. On top of it all, we didn’t know the new girl and couldn’t joke with her about it, so the room became an awkward hush of giggles and stifled snorts as over a hundred people tried not to rip on her for choosing a job that openly displayed her inability to read in her native language.

Yes, I am a grammar nazi and a vocabulary snob. I make mistakes too, of course, but I try to catch myself and think before speaking, and I’m always incredibly frustrated by the obvious errors in newspapers, magazines, and books. So when I showed up to trivia last week after a couple of months away, I was thrilled to see a new person behind the microphone – a guy in his late 20s who started on time, read the questions succinctly, and even sent out his assistant to ask for help pronouncing a tough word in the Biology category. It was awesome.

After the session was over and we were paying our bill (we took 2nd, and I still maintain that if the boys had listened when I swore that hedgehogs are born with soft quills that harden as they dry out and that’s why they don’t injure their mothers on the way out, we’d have had it), the guy running trivia stopped over to say hi to one of our teammates. Everyone was complimenting him on the categories and the well-run night, and I joined in, saying how well he’d done and that he could come back and run trivia anytime.

And then I managed to singlehandedly define the word “blurt” as I leaned forward and practically yelled, “Yeah, you were awesome, because at least you’re not retarded!”

Keep in mind that I hadn’t been drinking, nor was I tired or on any kind of drug. I cannot explain what incited me to make that particular statement at that particular volume, but somehow it seemed like a compliment to me – after all, he was obviously much better than the previous two people I’d listened to, and everyone was saying things along those lines, so it felt like I was being supportive. Until the words were out of my mouth, when everyone within hearing distance suddenly stopped speaking and looked down at their feet or at the table, and an incredibly uncomfortable silence filled the air.

And that’s when I realized that the girl he was filling in for, the one I had just called retarded, is his girlfriend.

I don’t think I stopped blushing furiously for at least an hour. And I’ll definitely not be going to trivia again for a few more months. Ugh.

From 1999 to 2002, I was a member of the SoCal VoCals. We sang rock a cappella like frickin’ rockstars and it was some of the most fun I’ve had onstage in my life. Yeah, yeah, a cappella is for geeks – whatever. Go see a really great group sometime and then try to tell me you didn’t want to get up there and beatbox.

So during my last year in the group (and my second year as music director), we headed for the ICCA Semifinals. I’m still involved with the ICCA in a more professional capacity, but back then, I was headed to Stanford with my friends ready to kick some ass and take some names. Along with our caravan, we had our own private journalist, Brendan Loy. He took hundreds of photos and wrote up a great review of the whole experience in the Daily Trojan.

There was one photo in particular that I fell in love with, but somewhere along the way, it was lost, and though Brendan and I spent months trying to find it, eventually I had to give up and hope that one day I could recreate the shot. Until a few minutes ago, when I received an email containing this:

Thank you Brendan!!

Alright, so I’ve been pretty good about keeping myself grounded throughout my musical career. Great gigs, increasing pay scale, better instruments – it’s all been fabulous, but I still hold to my roots, remembering that I was a waitress less than 2 years ago and that there’s a lot of hard work ahead of me.

But seriously – this past weekend threw all that out the door. Total rock star lifestyle. I’m hooked. Here’s how it went.

Friday morning I was up and on the road, driving down to Arkansas. It’s a 9 hour drive from Chicago, meaning I needed to leave at 7am to get there in time for sound check. Somehow in my mind, though, I reversed the numbers and left at 9am thinking I could get there in 7 hours… Yeah, that doesn’t work. Luckily (if my police officer fans will please avert their eyes for a second) I drive really fast, and I somehow made it to Searcy, AR, by a little after 6, in plenty of time to sound check and grab dinner.

I was opening up for Sara Bareilles at Harding University, and these people treated me like a queen. My private dressing room (a part of my contract rider which is usually taken with a grain of salt) was upstairs from the stage of what they tell me is the largest auditorium in Arkansas, Benson Auditorium. Private bathroom, loads of food that I couldn’t possibly eat alone, and the boys had even picked up a lovely set of vanilla candles and a feng shui rock fountain for the room. I could have sat in there all day and been great.

The stage itself was huge, with a pro lighting guy and a fog machine (though I didn’t get the benefit of the fog for my set, I still felt cool knowing it was there). After sound check I raced out to dinner with the boys, Cole and Ryan, then spent my last remaining minutes before my show scribbling CD info onto my “DIY Rockstar” burned samplers with a Sharpie. Ah, so professional…

When I hit the stage, there were around 200 people out there in the crowd. By the end of my set, it was more like 500, and more were coming in. It was a blast. I had a great time, the audience seemed to dig me (they bought nearly every CD I had with me!), and I got some great photos to prove it happened!

I also got to watch Sara rock out from the wings. She makes me wonder if I should put together a band…but otherwise, I fell into my hotel bed around 1am and got a lovely restful 4 hours of sleep.

[Totally random side note - I've got the TV on in the background, and "Without a Trace" just came on. I never watch this show and was just about to change the channel when I saw a familiar face...couldn't figure out why...then realized it's James. James Snyder. I spent my college years singing in the SoCal VoCals with this hottie, and there he is, filling the screen in my hotel room. That's just awesome.]

Anyhoo…

So I woke up around 5am on Saturday and had to hit the road for the drive to Little Rock, where I parked my car and caught a flight to Austin. Well, my 12-string and I caught the flight to Dallas, then had to wait an extra half hour while my delayed flight caught up. The first flight was no sweat, but the second was jam-packed with University of Missouri fans on their way to watch their team get crushed by Oklahoma.

In Austin, I met up with Adam, who had flown down there to back me up during the FameCast show. We were then picked up by the FameCast shuttle, a big white van with local Tony driving us to the hotel. FameCast put us up at the DoubleTree downtown, with the biggest most comfortable-looking heaven of a bed I’ve ever seen. If only I’d gotten to try it out…

After we grabbed a little lunch at the chili place around the corner (best bathroom graffiti I’ve ever seen), Adam took advantage of the free time and fell into nap land, while I got ready to head out for the show. The shuttle was coming back to get the artists around 3:30 and I was still curling my hair when they showed up, so I raced downstairs wearing no makeup, one outfit on and another outfit in my bag, and jumped into the van with Rory Miller, Sofia Talvik, and their bands. These two lovely ladies were, of course, all fixed up and ready for the stage, so I tried to make conversation while applying eyeshadow with my fingers and trying to size up their outfits against the two I was still stuck between. Luckily, everyone was pretty easy to get along with. Rory, also from Chicago, is one kickass chick and we discovered quickly that our senses of humor were pretty similar.

Case in point: when we arrived at Stubb’s, there was a camera crew waiting to film us getting out of the van. I forget exactly what we each said, but the sentiment was exactly the same. You’ve got to be kidding me…

The camera crew was a constant for the night. They interviewed us individually (if this footage ever sees the light of day, just let me say now that I was really excited and trying really hard to come off positive and laid back instead of hyper and sarcastic, which was how I really felt, and I don’t think I succeeded…), they followed us around while we were tuning our instruments, I’m pretty sure one crew followed me to the door of the bathroom.

The other artists were awesome. I already mentioned that Rory is a doll; Matt Jones (sorry, The Real Matt Jones) was a total sweetheart with a great sense of humor, Sofia was both gorgeous and sweet (did I mention gorgeous? I had to change into my other outfit after spending a little time with her!), and though Wendy and I only chatted while we were in the ladies’ room, she seemed like a cool chick.

Here’s the thing about FameCast: it is one pro organization. Everything about this weekend was handled well, they got us where we needed to be in plenty of time no matter what, the show was smooth and high quality, and everyone I met who was associated with FameCast – from the camera guys to the man behind the whole thing – was friendly and professional with a great sense of humor. I swear they’re not paying me to say any of this. I had a great time.

Adam showed up around 6:30 and joined me backstage (“backstage” being the huge outdoor area with its own stage that gets tons of use during SXSW), and then we waited. The show started at 7pm with the Singer / Songwriter finalists – Rory first, then Wendy Colonna, then The Real Matt Jones, then me, and Sofia last. I watched Rory’s first song but then I found my Austin friend Mychal in the crowd and we headed outside to catch up.

It wasn’t long ’til Matt was heading offstage and I was carrying my 12-string up the steps in front of the crowd. Four camera crews in there, if I remember right, plus the hundred or so fans and the 3 industry experts – Aaron Burgess (SPIN Magazine), Gary Graff (Rolling Stone, Billboard, etc) and Paul Korzilius (Bon Jovi Management). These were the guys I wanted to impress. I’ve played in front of a lot of crowds, and I knew this one was going to be hyped up and excited for the show, but how often do you get to play and get critiqued by people as high up the food chain as these three?

So I introduced myself and launched into “Bound to Fade” on the keyboard they’d provided. And it sounded great. I was kicking ass. And then halfway through the song, the piano sound cut out. Seriously. I kept going, and it came back in within a few seconds, but in my head I was thinking, “No WAY! You’ve got to be kidding!! Are they going to let me redo this song? Is it going online like this??” I must have kept my cool outwardly, though, and I moved on to “Oh Hell” on the guitar with a few jokes to the crowd about the sound and such. All this touring this year is paying off! The shift in gears between songs threw people off a little, but I could feel the crowd get into the new song and when I finished up, there was a huge cheer. Adrenaline galore. Seriously, if you haven’t tried this – well, let’s just say it’s quite a rush.

Then came the critique. The guy from Bon Jovi Management didn’t have a lot to say (he was more interested in the rock bands that were playing later in the evening), but Aaron Burgess launched into some honest conversation with me. He didn’t like the dichotomy of the two songs (I believe he said he felt like he was being beaten over the head with “Oh Hell”), but he was very cool about letting me explain why I did such different songs (wanting to show off as much range as possible, knowing that both songs get a great crowd response) and that I would never put them side by side in a typical set. Gary Graff was even better. He dug the difference in songs and the range on both instrument and vocal. We had a good little chat up there in front of the cameras and the crowd.

And then it was over, and the cameras were following me out the door and backstage. They interviewed me a bit more as I was putting my guitar away, then watched as Adam and I turned on the fake tears of relief and excitement (man are we bad actors), and then they left the cameras on while we had our actual “moment,” hugging and talking about the set.

Afterward, there was much Tito’s Handmade Vodka and laughing and talking, reunions with more local friends who had made it out, phone calls to parents and friends, and then a rather wild and crazy night on 6th street. We wound up crashing on the couch at my friends’ place, waking up at 6:30am in a panic (well, I did, Adam was out cold), and catching a cab back to the hotel just in time to catch the shuttle back to the airport. Hence my not getting to take advantage of the amazing, heavenly, soft, wonderful bed at the DoubleTree. *sigh*

And then, it was 9 hours back to Chicago, me driving all the way (Adam won’t drive my car because I’m so obsessive about it – it’s a stick shift and the first brand new vehicle I’ve ever owned), and after the excitement and carousing and adrenaline of the previous 2 days… Let’s just say I would have given almost anything for a touring van with a driver. And a blanket. And a pillow.

In all honesty, I was really happy with the show. I’m excited to see it online tomorrow night. And I really enjoyed the whole experience of the Finals.

And…this post has gotten WAY too long, and I have work to do! Rock star, out.

Here I sit in Nashville at my friend Kira’s house on Halloween. Her cat, Lucian (named for the great Pavarotti, who passed away recently), is rubbing against my feet, and I am importing CDs into my iTunes folder so that I can update my iPod for the drive home tomorrow. So far I’m only up to the Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique, but I’ve got a few hours before I need to go anywhere.

So today is Halloween, which means that people are going to start putting up their Christmas decorations tomorrow. My sister has probably already had her full nativity scene out on the lawn for weeks… Much as I’d like to pretend that Christmas and winter are far, far away, I was thinking about what to tell my parents when they ask what I want this year. People always ask, you know, so this year, here are a few things I want for Christmas:
* office supplies
* illumination
* inspiration
* revjuvenation
* memorabilia (chrome only, please)

Plus some other random things I clearly don’t want for myself, but I’m amused by nonetheless:
* The Body Farm
* Nightmare Spiders