8/19/20...that might not make a bad first blog
Updated: Aug 20, 2019
It is currently 10:00 pm on a Sunday night, Nashville time. I’m adding on that last detail because I’ve worked so hard for the past year of my life to be able to say things that let me reference Nashville as my home. Things like “so I was heading South on 440 and I swear that pothole was the size of my car!” or “oh great, its bridal party season” or “I chose ASCAP as my PRO”.
Now it's 10:02 pm. On a Sunday. In Nashville. Where I live, work, and create. Today was one of the last days that is all my own for a very long time, and I made sure to spend it with myself.
Everything was normal. The pot of coffee brewed at 8 am. The shower taken at 8:30. The very ordinary washed, dried, and folded laundry. Even the wrestling match in the living room between me and Piper-the-dog; like two girls who aren't having their worlds turned upside down.
I took Piper to the park and then the grocery store. I didn’t speak to anyone because nobody had a reason to speak to me. I spent my super normal ordinary day in complete silence, which is weird for someone who has so much to say that she’s making a career out of it.
I baked a pizza to share with Pipes because you know, "treat-yo-self". I skyped my childhood friends. When things start to get big and scary I think it’s important to remember who you really are, and who was there for you even when your words and voice kind of sucked.
Now it is exactly 10:11 pm. I find it ironic that the time is 10:11 and the next few weeks of my life are about to be one gigantic 12 on the 1 to 10 "Crazy Scale".
Between all of the excitement of upcoming not-normal days bouncing around in my head, there’s still an unoccupied compartment that likes for me to sit down and write words. Any words. Words with music. Words to be spoken. Words nobody will ever see. Or words like this, that after they’ve been put on paper make me think “that might not make a bad first blog”.
So this is a page of words that talks about where I am right now in life.
It’s currently 10:22 on a Sunday night in my apartment.
It’s the end of the normal days for who knows how long.
Someone in the future may or may not be reading this page of words that I’m typing into a Google Doc, but if they are I hope it’s because all of the upcoming not-normal days have paid off.