I missed blogging in February, but no one had any comments about January’s post, so it seemed silly to force a blog if I’m writing in isolation anyway. Life has been moving fast lately, and I must admit I’ve kept a lot of it spinning in my head searching for clues and answers.
I don’t know many “normal” people very well. It seems they have little to say to me and rarely understand what I’m talking about anyway. I always attract the storied characters. Perhaps I just have that look that says, “Tell me your story because this inane gossip I’ve been listening to is boring me to tears.” Take for instance the girl in the parking lot trying to find her boyfriend when I was dropping off a friend. Somehow she decided I was “safe” to tell her predicament to even though she’d never seen me before and probably would never see me again. Or even deeper, the boy in juvie who found the need to open up to me about the death of a friend while he was locked up. Even though I’m not emotionally attached to these people they instantly feel safe sharing what they haven’t dared say to another person.
On the flip side, I find myself unable to begin to express what I think and feel about the recent experiences. My tour partner and I can talk about it to some extent, but as soon as we’re done with the work he has a wife and friends from home who need his attention. Most people are too busy with their own agendas to care about the state of human existence. Many people fain interest in what the media shoves down our throats as “news,” but most are too caught up in their little tread mills of existence to ponder doing anything about making the world around them a better place. Oddly, the one person who did show interest this week was a child. While waiting on his dad to finish the business of talking to fans he turned to me and started asking real questions that most adults make a false assumption of knowing the answers to already. I left him with more questions.
It was also pointed out to me in the past week that I’m “in the prime of your life and wasting yourself by keeping a travel schedule that prevents having a boyfriend.” Granted this came from a group of guys who were travelling for work and playing the game of flirtation with me between sets. If it’s normal that no matter how well I sing or play with the band the men will always focus on how I look and dance, then I’ll gladly continue to steer clear of normal.
For eight years there was someone in my life that I could communicate with on an intimate level until we finally grew apart. Not all relationships last forever and before we damaged each other any further it became time to move on to the next phase of our lives. I must admit, I had held out hope that we would grow together and spend the rest of our lives travelling the world, but that wasn’t meant to be and it’s been eight months now since we’ve exchanged words.
A friend once gave me a laminated card with the quote “Longing itself is proof that what we long for exists.” It’s that longing that one day I will travel to explore the rest of this planet through music and poetry with an intimate companion that keeps me climbing up out of the dark hole of despair. Some days though, when I’ve had not a dollar to my name for weeks and the government decides to demand more taxes from my empty account, there’s not much I can do but sit in silence to try to regain my focus.
My friend Deborah Edler Brown has a line in one of her poems about unzipping your skin to walk naked in the space between relationships. I must admit I’m a bit jaded and tired and have hid my vulnerability beneath false bravado and a big black leather coat this winter. Spring is coming though and soon I’ll have to shed those layers to allow the sunlight to reach my skin.