Conjecture: when most people are laid off, panic sets in quickly followed by a run up in credit card debt, which is only quelled by new job just before the Repo Depot comes to send your worldly possessions back from whence they came. I do not want to be part of that statistic. Is this an opportunity to run off to LA/NYC/Bangkok and live out my rockstar fantasy? Yes, yes it is. But I do not need that, and realize that luck branches out toward those such fortunate, not the other way around. Besides the fact that my band is located here, not there, and I quite love what we create as one, which is the foundation of my drive in playing music to begin with. Sans that, I have no passion. If LeAnn Rimes stuck her half-bred fivehead inside my door tomorrow asking me to play bass for her next tour, you're god damn right I'd do it, but after one go-round the round-world, I would realize my heart belonged to another: my own. Yet I digress. The point is I have options. I am able to try something I enjoy for a change, rather than jump into the lap of the first White Collared Hell that wanders my way.
I'm a writer. I belong to the word. I may not complete my first book in time to go back to the simple-minded drudgery I became too much a part of and have not the level of blue blood necessary (read: any whatsoever) to avoid indefinitely, but hopefully I can accomplish something in said genre of being. I have a few months to attempt just that, and I will not allow myself to blow it. At least, not entirely. Hopefully.
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