I recently talked to a friend of mine on the singer/songwriter circuit, a creature that I’d looked up to as a great example to us all – someone who’s perseverence and hard work seemed to have been really paying off.
He quit recently, citing years of losing money at the music game, years of feeling like he didn’t have what it took, and now he’s retreated from it. His eyes hurt while he told me, bitter and I think angry, earnest if nothing else. I didn’t like seeing it.
It was in response to a “how are you” variant unique to our Lifestyle – “How’s gigs?” is supposed to garner a response like “fine”, or “you know, not paid enough”… I’ve never had a response like this, a lengthy and uncomfortable diatribe of defeat. I felt for him, but it sort of put my own woes into perspective. At times, after 2 years on the road, I feel like giving in giving up, getting out…
But here’s a guy who did it for TEN years – part of me undermines me and says “and came up with the same conclusion!” and urges me to get out now while I’m young and employable. I worry about dying alone and unable to afford some sort of simple operation… But of course the competitive part of me teams up with the dreamer, telling me that I can’t give up FIRST, and that maybe I won’t ever have to give up.
It’s just at night and when I’m driving alone that I think about it… just have to endeavour not to be alone….
A friend also wrote about her down-times, and then mentioned that she looked out the window to see a carrot-top three-year-old walking with the aide of a white cane. She’s right. I can pretty much shut up about MY woes.
