"This song is over...
I sing my heart to the wide open spaces
I sing my song to the breeze,"
Just three lines from the Who song, The Song is Over.
With certain endings there is a rush of intoxicating freedom, and then the gifts start pouring in like cool, clean air through a long-unopened window.
Holy mama, I like music again! I mean, to listen to and sing along with. I'm listening to things I like without a mind to how I must process it. I like what I like and the rest can fuck off.
Speaking of which, my singing voice wants to come back. I can't stop myself from wanting to sing now. I'm not saving myself for anything anymore. My voice wants to soar out of a speaking contralto-maybe just to sing in the same contralto, but it's for me. Fuck show biz. What do I want to sing?
My mind is free! This I'm still getting my head around *rim shot*.
Robbie Knight was SO CLAUSTROPHOBIC. I can BE the cool chick on the bar stool, but I am NOT a chick who is on bar stools; I played her. I was raised in New England; I got the essence of a liberal education, or the sensibility of one, just by osmosis. I love Shakespeare, I love opera, I read literature. I use vocabulary that is way beyond 6th grade and I'm tired of dumbing down everything I say for the mic. I don't have to anymore.
I'm off the rails of the career track. I work to work, to make money. I write to create. I don't need my entire purpose to come from career.
My mind is free to be mine! I love science and music. I love to grow and make food. I love to tell stories...maybe.
We'll see what happens from here. For the moment, I'm just breathing deep from a wide, blue, sparkling sky...