Something I like to do at the beginning of each year is clean house. I haven't cleaned my email inbox thoroughly for a while. I came across something I wrote, but never published, back in 2012 and I liked it so I thought I would share it even though it appears I never finished my thought. Journaling- something I want to get back into.
I want to remember and reflect on everything I've been through in the
past year and a half so we'll start with where I left off. When I left.
Fall
of 2011 I decided to quit my job and go out on my own. It was a time in
my life where I felt like I was missing out on something and finding
myself unhappy with my job and recently single, I wanted nothing more
than to escape into the world and be a "traveler".
I spent a month in NYC with my friends who were very gracious
in keeping me company, taking me out and putting me up (Thank you Katie
Foster!!!!). I was able to get in with a local musician crowd at
BlackBird's in Astoria where I played both their bi-weekly acoustic
nights during the month. I also embarassed myself at a very well known
East Village open mic, Sidewalk Cafe. Apparently profanity isn't highly
regarded there when you're half in the bag and unable to find where to
plug in.
I traveled in and out of NYC to make little trips to Boston
and Connecticut. I had aspirations of working at a farm out in CT again
despite 2008's farm debacle. I took the megabus out to stay overnight
and get a feel for the place to see if I could see myself killing some
time, working and living there. The entire bus ride I felt as though I
was literally headed in the wrong direction. I was so paranoid I was on
the wrong bus, it almost made me sick. Upon arrival, I met the owner who
looked stoned out of his mind and had me sleep with a pillow and
blanket that smelled like piss on a cold slab floor. I convulsed for a
good half hour before convincing myself that if I just went to sleep,
tomorrow didn't matter. I was NOT going to work on that farm. It was ok
that I had quit my job, sold my car, and got rid of my apartment. I told
myself no one would judge me, trotting home with my tail between my
legs. I needed to trust my instincts. Just go to sleep- and I eventually
I did.
Next I wandered in and out of D.C. on my way to North Carolina
to visit with my sister and friends. Megabus was my ticket the entire 3
months of travel with it's cheap tickets and free wi-fi. I started
obsessively applying for jobs. Having slept in others houses for that
long, I got to a point where I just wanted my own space again. I wanted
to be able to lounge around and nap without feeling like a sloth. I
wanted to cook food and crank tunes without being seen as a burden. I
wanted to play my guitar in the middle of the
night, drink to excess while watching Sex in the City and eat Indian
Food in my underwear. But, mostly, I just wanted a place to cry.
Sometimes, you just have to.
My last trip was to TN where I met up with a friend from
college and his girlfriend. We went square dancing, got to check out a
blue plate special, and I played an amazing set at an amazing bar. I
felt so good and so sad. I was tired and alone.
I came back home (to Buffalo) and set myself up with an apartment, got a job and reconnected with the scene.
