Today two things happened: I read and watched a crap-ton of interviews and performances by Andrew McMahon. This happens to me about once a month where suddenly I am psychotically interested in every aspect of his life. Also, my sister, her roommate, and I performed at an Open Mic Night. Both things made me think similar thoughts: I don't want to be a musician.
It's, like any job, hard work. There is a lot of BS even if most people don't see or hear about it. There is hella hand-shaking, being cordial, taxing creative sessions, manual labor, etc. etc. Not a newsflash, I know. But, even with all the hard work and years you have to perform unnoticed, there are many many people in this world who would still go for the ultimate dream (or at least dream the ultimate dream).
Singing into the microphone tonight, I was fairly unmoved. Sure, its fun to collaborate with my friends, but I would much MUCH rather be doing an improv. Gee, I would rather be writing, or reading, or scrapbooking--something I have some decent talent in, something I love. I have no interest in pursuing music. None.
This gives me hope.
My sister explained to me once how unreasonable she is about buying concert tickets. Even if the performer is super unpopular, she still is sure the tickets will sell out if she doesn't hurry hurry hurry. She hears the artist and thinks I like him! Everyone probably wants to see him! I am one in a million with almost no chance! And then the tickets never sell out.
Well sometimes I think the things I am good at are like that. I am passionate about sketch comedy! Everyone is trying to get into sketch comedy! I'll never even land a lame community theatre bit. I want to teach English! Everyone does! No high school will be hiring by the time I get my degree!
But I don't even want to be a famous musician...so I am guessing my tiny dreams aren't lost.
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