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Day Eighty Two

So, I sent an e-mail to my Dad the other day, recounting what had happened in the last few weeks, and updating them on what was coming up (i.e. Brandi Carlile on Saturday!). My Dad, in his usual fashion, sent a response that contained the following line: "I do not wish to totally reveal my ignorance of post-1960's music, but who the heck is Brandi Carlile?"

That's the way it's always been in my family. Everyone is supportive of my addiction to/obsession with music, but nobody really understands it. My step-mom and my brother come the closest to understanding, but then again, they both play, so they ought to. I'm still not sure exactly what I would have done if my brother had turned into one of those people who "hates music."

And you know, I think that part of the reason I'm in so deep, part of the reason I could never really live without it, and part of the reason I've struggled during the times it's been absent from my life for a period of time is BECAUSE nobody else really gets it. It's my refuge, my place to hide from the world. And as much as I love sharing it with people (and there have been a few like-minded souls in recent years), I still love the fact that my musical journey is mine. It's the one thing I'm never giving up for another person. The last few years have outlined that very clearly. That being said, bring on the learning, bring on the listening, bring on the adventure! I'm ready for whatever the music throws my way, because I believe in it, and I trust it'll never let me down.

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