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“Who’s your favorite author?”
“God, that’s too hard. I love so many.”
“If you had to pick just one.”
“If Ihadto pick only one it would be Tam Thompson. Her Confession Series is probably the best thing I’ve ever read.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You don’t strike me as much of a reader.” She gives me a long once over.
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know. You just don’t seem like the type.”
“I didn’t realize there was atype.”
“There’s not, but if there were, you’re not it.” She gives me a pointed look.
“Okay, well you’ve got me there. I’m not much of a reader. Not to say that I don’t enjoy reading, I just always have other things I’d rather be doing.”
“Not me. I would read over just about anything. There’s something so freeing about being able to live in another world. In another life.”
“Have you always liked to read?” I ask, feeling like I could listen to her talk about books forever. From the way her eyes light up it’s clear how much she loves it.
“Always. It’s the one place where I can escape.”
“Escape what?”
“Life.” She shrugs. “I guess that makes me sound even more lame.”
“Not at all. I get it. That’s how I feel about music,” I offer. “No matter what’s going on or how shitty I feel, all I have to do is pick up my guitar, strum out a few chords, and it takes me to a whole other reality. Everything else kind of fades away and I lose myself in the lyric, in the picture I paint, in the story I tell. And for that brief moment, life doesn’t seem quite so hard.”
“You play music?”
“Have since I was little. It’s always been an outlet for me. As I got older I decided it’s what I wanted to do with my life. It’s nothing fancy. Most nights I play for less than twenty people, half of which can’t remember their own names by the time they leave, but that’s not the point. The point is, I get to play. I get to do what I love for a living. I don’t need fame and wealth. I just need a guitar and a stage. That’s enough for me.”
“So do you play around the city?”
“Yep. I’ve played about every bar there is to play in this city, most of them multiple times. I still get a rush every time I step up on a stage, too. No matter how many times I’ve played there before or how few people are actually there to hear me. Every time is like the first time.”
“I wish I had that. That one thing I knew I was born to do. I’ve never really known what to do with my life. I feel like most of it I’ve spent wandering in the dark.” I can tell the moment she says it that she wishes she could take it back. There’s something so vulnerable about her admission and to say it to a complete stranger no less.
“There has to have been something. Something you dreamed about doing when you were younger?”
“Well, there wasonething. But it’s silly.”
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Oh come on. I practically laid out my entire life story,” I jokingly exaggerate.
She lets out a long sigh.
“When I was little I wanted to be a dancer. A ballerina to be more specific. I know, how completely unoriginal, right?” She rolls her eyes.
“There’s nothing unoriginal about doing something you love. As long as you’re doing it for you and for no other reason than it makes you happy. I mean, I’m a musician, come on. That’s about as cliché as they come.”
