Switching the script

On film set, writer is often called out on short notice to fix the dialogue.

Something is better left unsaid or sounded odd when in “live” context.

In life, we can’t retrace our steps to switch the script.

It’s live, and happened once only.

There lies the importance of getting the right words first time around.

Another way to lessen the impact of misspoken words, is to come out immediately and retract.

Even the NYT does that.

When the facts are not straight, when a character is mis-portrayed, the best way for editors to damage control is to come out clean.

We happen to live on this side of the communication (data) explosion.

Facts and fiction are both out there.

As mentioned in Brand America a few blogs ago, people do come here and reinvent themselves e.g. name change (anglicized), hair-coloring and new wardrobe. Voila! Boy George and Bieber. Entertainers and sports idols are hot. They are more than hot. They sell merchandise.

Just Do  It.

After all, we move about our days, filtering ads and spam mail.

No wonder we long for those “in” mail.

Someone cares enough to probe and not to pitch.

And we in turn empathize with their plights, the pressures they are under.

If only we could switch the script. Living a new life and assuming a new persona.

Like when we were kids, imagining we had just been adopted by our real parents.

We wished for another life, another script (if only the writer were standing by as fixer).

Then we would be reclaimed, taken back to the castle and live a happy life ever after.

When I grew up, there was such a story. Of a half-breed (African-Vietnamese). Co Ba Xi. The man who had fathered her left only to come back years later as King of his tribe. Vietnamese Cinderella. But that’s just one jewel among a variety of Immigrant stories, ranging from model minority stories to loser’s stories.

One last thing about scripting. As long as we live out our story, and not someone else’s.

At the end of all travel is to return to the same place and to know ourselves for the first time.

It is often said, life is 10 per cent action and 90 per cent reaction. When a large part of life is lived out of reaction instead of proactive, we are not living our life script. Paul Anka would be proud to hear his “My Way” sung by 7 Billion.

Why wait for the writer to come to our rescue?

We are the writers, we are the world.

While still alive, we can switch the script, reinvent the characters, and overcome the challenges.

As long as we know what we want.

Or seek help. There are people who are gentle and kind (not just in San Francisco or down in the Bayou), and whose advice are plenty and fitting (learned this in Vietnam. People still give out free advice as if they were still living in a village).

I am indebted to professionals on LinkedIn, who endorsed my skill set and characters.

I am grateful for “followers” . People who trek the trail of current Recession and the trajectory of Social Media.

What a time we are living in, and what a company we are keeping. Just as we thought we should throw in the towel, then comes help.

I am the sum of my relationships. Two old people in their early 40’s were still at it, hence, creating me.

Now I live out that script, all the while hoping to switch those last pages.

Hope to read about your multi-chapter, multi-tasking life whose script is not written in stone, but evolving with unpredictable twist and turn and whose ending is happy albeit not perfect.

The guitar master

As I saw him open the door, I said “Guitar Master”.

He after all has played for as long as my memory can serve me: on the roof behind my house, and at various venues in Saigon.

Still with that baritone voice and impeccable sense of humor.

“You might think I am old, but put me out there at the street corner, I will get picked up in five minutes!”.

(I understood the context, so I added the punch line: “right, by xe-om” – scooter-taxi.)

He mixed and matched some oldies with Rock and Roll. Even played Apache by the Shadows for warm up.

At Mimosa Cafe, he played in an enclosed lounge, not outdoors as at Vuong Tron in Go Vap.

We talked about appreciating small things.

He after all had a minor stroke (without the fainting and falling): guitar fell out of his hand, couldn’t make out what the other person was trying to say etc… He wanted to make sure I understood what it takes to move on with help from both Lipitor and tradional acupuncture.

A blend of East and West.

His friend was also my friend (recently died of cancer) since we move in limited circle of musicians and fan.

He could easily finish my sentences, same way I could take his song one octa higher.

Still cool, with pony tail and black T-shirts, the man grows to be a permanent fixture, albeit not boring.

He has learned to deflect uninvited comments and challenges. “Save the energy” seems to be his motto.

After all, he got 8 shows a week year round. He keeps a brief break since it’s a two-hour one-man show.

Master of his old destiny and of his instruments: guitar and vocal.

Unique Selling Proposition.

Can’t be duplicated (unless I moved in his turf, keep dreaming Thang).

I excused myself for not staying till the end .

After all, I had heard what I came for: he dedicated a special number to me: Reflections of My Life.

This was after he had heard my brief story about minor stroke, which we both experienced.

Guitar Master, guitar apprentice.  My guitar gently weeps. What a waste that the Who and Prince, both tossed their valuable piece of instrument after each show.

At MCI, I gave away one electric guitar to promote our brand at a local event.

What do you expect when musician became marketer? You got the spirit of brotherhood (Get Together) and energy.

I know our vein might break someday, but My Guitar still only gently weeps.

You can always play bass after two smallest strings gave. The beauty of the band. The beauty of being human and entertainers.