We all have dreams, don't we? Some have blue-sky dreams, others humble-pie––no matter their scope, we all have them. The age of thirty had always loomed in my mind as a measuring stick by which I'd measure my success in life––or lack thereof. Thirty has come and gone, but now a new life gauge has toe'd itself up to the line––parenthood. Age is unavoidable. Having a child is––for the most part–– pure choice. Now that I've crossed through that doorway I find myself standing on the other side, looking around at my new surroundings and wondering––what does it mean?
I've always had this fantasy of spontaneous rock-stardom––you know the sort of fame I'm talking about––the one where the record label executive hears you humming one of your songs in the next stall of a public bathroom and––through the sheet metal divider––offers you a three record contract and you sign the papers on the tile floor––and when you walk out of the bathroom door, there's already a line-up of press with their flashing camera and microphones.
Unrealistic. Sure. But does it keep me going. Sure.
The point of all this is––suddenly I've realized that, in order to get what you want––you have to work hard to get it. And guess what? Someone hasn't been working that hard––and that same someone is expecting it all to magically fall into his lap.
Anyone have any words of wisdom out there?