January 20, 2010- When God closes a window…
Winter in the music business is never what one might call easy. Boyfriend is a sound technician and I’m a music publicist and we both rely on touring and entertainment to provide us with work. Typically, both of our businesses grind to a slow crawl from the week before Thanksgiving to mid January.
Partner the big slow down with bouts of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), a lack of warmth and sun and the ground’s barren and frozen status and we both start to think of alternative ways to make a living. My alternative idea this particular winter is to make a career of selling sandwiches out of a lunch wagon. It seems a reasonable and sane way to make a living. After all, people gotta eat.
In 2009, I released four booklets about the music business. To see how Divine Intervention made this happen you can read this https://alunatunes.wordpress.com/2009/01/27/january-27-backstage-pass-seminar/. 2009 also marked my exit from the music booking business and the build a band business, into full-time publicity and writing. Now the freelance writing business is experiencing a shake up and publicity often demands underwriting funds as publications try to keep afloat in the digital age.
Essentially I’ve spent 15 years intimately involved in building the careers of other people, while my own, sadly, sat neglected and ill-fed in a dank, dark and cold corner. “SSSHHHHH!” I warned her when she cried no one was paying any attention to her. “Too much whining in the monitors! ” I’d hiss ala Jeff Mosier.” You are not as valid as band a, b, and c and are not as talented as singer a, so just knock off the complaining and let me get back to WORKING on the dreams of others! GEEZ!”
A week ago, a lot changed. It was sudden and unexpected. For a week, I’ve mulled it over, not obsessed or whined or complained about it, just quietly reflected on the change as a major part of my work life becomes not so major anymore. And it is good because I truly believe change is good all the way around. Without change, we’d never grow or develop or learn to count our blessings more fully and fervently on a minute by minute basis.
This morning, I picked Dream Girl up out of her dark corner, sat her on my knee, wiped her tears, gave her some warm tea and honey and brushed her hair. Strangely, she looked dazzling in the sunlight streaming through the window and I realized what a pretty little thing Dream Girl always was. How she loved to write and sing and how she adored the art of creation. As she become nourished and clean, she giggled. “We can do this.” she reminded me, then gave me a hug around the neck, as if I had never neglected her or let her down or ignored her at all.
So it’s time to pay attention to me and Dream Girl and pursue the things we’ve always loved, our own hopes and ambitions, all the things that have taken a back seat to the dreams of others for so many years. Although our pockets might be threadbare for a bit, we’ll be like a Dickens character. Maybe a little ragged and worn, but full of the goodness of life and content to find our new place in it.