So when I said the coming weeks would offer more time to write and get caught up on some prose I obviously didn't count on what's happened in the last couple of days. Around the time of my gig at the Old Nick I was asked by a close friend if I wanted a spot on a cruise ship playing bass. It basically was summed in a text that said, "top 40 band, bass player, april 9th - july 31st, interested?". After getting some clarification it turns out the band wanted a bass player who might be able to sing lead and now they're getting a lead singer who might be able to play bass. And by 'might' I mean WILL DESTROY ALL LESSER BASSES WITH HIS TASTY LICKS AND SUB-PHONIC FREQUENCIEEEEEEEEES!!!!!
Sorry, got carried away. My mom has always said I have a horseshoe up my ass, and though I've never really felt it's steely presence I'm rather inclined to agree. Or rather, I'd like to divide credit amongst the universe and myself because that just seems fair. In this case I had had a job where I could never get ahead financially but let me play with lots of people, cultivate relationships and be here in the city. When the job kicks me to the curb, I have this opportunity to pay off my debt in one fell swoop while spending 4 months aboard a cruise going to the mayan riviera and alaska, hanging with arguably one of the coolest guys I know, eating prepared food and playing music every day while lounging/writing/swimming/lounging/exercising/charting/skyping/lounging and generally causing a ruckus the other 20 hours. All aboard a floating palace. Yes please. Table for one. Or rather, bunk-beds for two.
There are, of course, challenges and hoops to jump. I have to get a physical and might have to get some cavities filled. I have to learn 150 tunes on bass and somehow sing my fair share of them simultaneously (arguable the hardest two instruments to coordinate). But at this point I'm letting myself get excited. Like, maybe too excited. Like, maybe wait til your feet are on the starboard bow (avast, ye land lubbers!) excited.
I don't care. I've spent a lifetime dulling excitement and fostering caution. When you grow up having a rug pulled out from under you every twenty minutes you learn to guard that kind of expectation. I'm trying my best to unlearn this behaviour. To be fearless and more; to let myself feel to the extent that I can. How can I expect to love with real abandon if I can't abandon the fear that it could end. How can I expect to experience real, exuberant and genuine happiness if I can't throw caution to the wind and just take that leap? There will always be something that can bring you down, there is no perfectly protected Utopia. Everything can change in an instant. I want… No, I need to live without tip-toeing through experiences. It's my constant struggle with control that's in play here (surprise, surprise). My attempt to control the possible disappointment by not letting myself become invested. Always one foot out the door and one hand on the handle. It was a behaviour I had to learn at one point to survive, but now I want freedom. Freedom and the space in me for real excitement.
That dictator of hope, that's not me anymore. It might still be an inclination but today I'm choosing to move beyond it. Move beyond the doubts, the doubts that I might not be up to it, the doubts that I might not be worthy and told to turn back, the doubts that something will go wrong because it's a perfect opportunity and all good things must come with a price in my world. And the price is usually the wrench in the spokes. I don't accept that. All I have to do is look at all the wonderful experiences I HAVE managed to have, the people who HAVE stuck around to remind myself that good things do happen for me and I have a right to them.
I have a right to this and I'm going to fight to keep it. You might not see a lot of me in the coming weeks. Practice, practice, practice. Once I'm hands on deck though, I'll have nothing but time. Let's see how this month progresses. Day 55 and 56, in the bag. Oh shit, I need luggage...