As of when I started writing this blog post, I have no title for it.  Here's why.  I'm sitting here studying and listening to the new playlist I just created, called "Boys."  In it are several of the male solo artists and bands fronted by guys that 1.) soothe down my busy mind and 2.) inspire me to write.  Blogs, songs, assignments- doesn't matter. These songs by these guys just make me want to write.  This led me to start thinking (while resting my brain from academic matter for a little bit) about what my true passion is in life.  I just started a new session of classes this past week, and one of my profs kept reiterating over and over that "No matter how much money you make, if you're not happy in what you're doing, follow your passion."  He also kept saying how we should "know what our passions are because that will make us more well-rounded human beings."  Every time he'd say something like that, I'd think to myself "Well I'm really happy I know what my passions are."  But if I'm being honest, it's been a really long time since I've actually actively followed my passions and acted on them.  Being the kind of artsy-fartsy free spirited person I am (no, I'm not saying I'm a dirty hippie), my passions lie in 1.) writing and 2.) music.  All aspects of both of these creative indulgences are what make my life feel filled.  They, aside from my family, are what make my life worth living.

It's funny- I went to college in Tennessee for music business, thinking and feeling creatively fed.  I wanted nothing more than to be a performer, to put my musical skills and talents to good use while singing the words I'd written myself or with friends.  Music biz was a field I could go into that would push me to my limits in hard work but would be rewarding because I'd be doing something in the field of my passions.  I wanted nothing more than to start off in copyright and publishing (and one of my profs had offered me a position as her intern with the intent to hire right out of college) and move into A&R from there, all while hitting artist showcases and gigging out of course.  Then life happened.  I don't regret for a single second starting a family at 22, getting married to my high school sweetheart at 23, or having my son at 24.  I wouldn't trade the life I have now for those late nights in smoky bars, playing for tips.  What I do regret is that I went off track and lost sight of my passions.  When we moved back to Chicago after living outside Nashville, it was like my creative switch got thrown to 'off' and writers block hit hard.  I literally sat looking at a blank journal page in a new journal for hours, trying desperately to grab at any thought that ran through my head that might lead to a song or something that could spur a song's birth.  Nothing.  It was the most frustrating thing ever.  Then I got promoted at work, was logging at least 40 hours/week (if not a few in OT), but being gone for closer to 50-55 hours a week with travel, I was on-call 24/7 both at work and for my kids, I got caught up in being a wife, mother, careerwoman.  And I completely lost my grip on what makes me me.

Here's a little digression.  When I was a little girl, I learned to talk by singing.  My mom was a single parent until I was seven, so I grew up listening to Hall and Oates, Bon Jovi, Whitney Houston, and a slew of other artists of the 80s and early 90s.  We'd put on music and dance around the house for hours when she wasn't working.  I was the epitome of performer, singing into hairbrushes or kitchen utensils, putting on shows whenever someone was around to listen- and even if they weren't.  I can't count the number of times my mom got mad at me for singing at the top of my lungs in the shower or bathroom (hey, it has good acoustics!).  I have never wanted to be anywhere in life but on stage singing for people.  I have never wanted to be anything other than a performer.  My whole high school life revolved around the world of choir and all the ensembles I was involved in, before, during, and after school.  Drama club was thrown in there somewhere too, alongside the 20+ hours a week of taekwondo that I was working in there- before I actually had a paying job.  Then in college, I was in the inaugural year of women's ensemble at Grand Valley State University and one of two freshman in a strictly upper-class group of women.  I took musical theater voice lessons from 7th to 9th grades, then switched in 9th to classical voice and trained in opera until my sophomore year of college.  It's amazing how much of that training I still use now, even though I sing mainly rock/blues music.  Breath control, vocal warmups, all that jazz is still so key to me now, every time I open my mouth.


Anyway.


It sounds so silly to be talking like some teenager with stars in my eyes, wishing for dreams that are unattainable.  But I've had this buzz for at least a year now, and it happens whenever I think seriously about the path my life is supposed to be taking.  I know that a career in communications/HR/management/marketing would be an amazing place to settle in for the rest of my life.  It would provide a secure and stable home for my children, and a solid income to partner with Nate's.  I know all of this, but I can't help feeling like I'm wasting an insane amount of money and a lot of time to pursue a degree that I'm not passionate about.  I don't want to become a shell of a person, one who's really good at my job and makes good money but doesn't go after what I'm really here on this earth for.  I feel like, since my injury, it's taken a long time to get to know and be comfortable with my new reality, and through everything that's hard for me to do physically now, the one thing that remains is music.  I can forget about the frustrations of overcoming Frankenfoot, the pain I'm in almost constantly, the heartbreak over broken dreams that were very real aspirations and very real possibilities when this happened.  I can imagine my life onstage, offstage, writing, raising my kids happy and on the road while performing with two of my favorite guys (Adam and Nate, of course!), living the life I've not only always dreamed of, but wanted for myself. 


Sigh.


On that note, Trace is awake and Rhea never went down for nap, so life is calling... I'll close out with lyrics from one of my favorite songs by Lifehouse:

I cannot stand still.
I can't be this unsturdy.
This cannot be happening.
'Cause I'm waiting for tonight,
Then waiting for tomorrow.
And I'm somewhere in between what is real and just a dream.