The Downside of Up

It’s like waking up from a dream about being in love. You suddenly feel its absence so much more acutely.

Last night I went to see one of my favourite bands. Even better, I got to briefly meet all the guys (plus the lead singer from one of the other bands who I also love, AND two guys from yet another band I adore who were there for the show) and get pictures with everyone!

The problem is that I don’t want to be a fan, I want to be a musician. I don’t want to be the little twit who comes running down the hall towards them, I want to be the peer they cross paths with backstage.

I’m trying to get a band together, and even if we just play a couple of shows and cut a demo I’ll consider it a far greater success than I ever thought I’d achieve. But I’m an average-looking 28 year old, and the entertainment industry is obsessed with youth and beauty. I know stranger things have happened, but realistically I’ve probably missed the boat. I doubt I will ever be a professional musician; I’ll just be a chick in a shitty band playing near-empty venues that only hold 150 people anyway.

Last night I touched greatness. Literally. I had my arms around guys I consider to be great. But in so doing I’ve had to once again face up to the fact that those pictures and ten second conversations are the closest I am likely to ever come to it.

That said, and in the interests of leaving this on a positive note, I have band practice on Saturday. Cross your fingers that greatness can bloom in a makeshift studio in the bowels of an industrial park.

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