Do you ever feel that you aren't where you thought you would be in life? That somehow the goals you had were set aside and forgotten? I feel like that today...well, the last few days...and it troubles me. And it isn't particularly that I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish by now, or a particular place where I wished to be, but there were things I loved--do love--that I thought I would be doing. Or at least have done, or working towards doing.
I've had this quagmire of thought before. This time it has struck with more force because of the band we met last week, and the blues singer they opened for at the fabulous House of Blues last Thursday. [pause for brief and shameless plug: Reeve Carney and the Revolving Band and Jonny Lang are both worth a good, long listen, guys. They are good.] Here's the thing: These guys are all under the age of 26. Even the exceptional Mr. Lang. All of them are doing what they love, and doing it very well. I, on the other hand, have done very little of what I love.
It's not that I don't know what's holding me back. I'm very aware that I'm so afraid. I'm terribly afraid of having doors slammed in my face, of losing just when I think I've almost accomplished a dream. I didn't used to be this afraid. Maybe part of it is cynicism, but then, I'm not sure when I became any kind of a cynic.
So I need to finish my story. I need to try and see if I can get it published. I need to take a step. You can't touch the stars of your dreams if you keep standing flat-footed, right?
And I really miss my car. A Dodge Caravan just doesn't go so well with my Yellowcard.