Rush of my Heart

I’m sitting in a tornado trashed room, surrounded by mountains of knick-knacks, boxes, and clothes.
It’s very easy to feel nothing but an overwhelming despair when faced with the epic task of moving, but I’m doing my best.
We have 9 days left. 9 measly days. There really is no other alternative rather than just to “get it done”.
So far I’ve found some interesting things. A class schedule from my first semester of college. A Lord of The Rings Valentine from 2001 from my boyfriend that he found on the ground at his high school, crossing the girl’s name out to fill mine in instead. A card from my mom when I got a parasite after traveling to Tijuana on a mission trip. Solidified lotion.
It is a rather daring adventure to clean out your room. If you have several months to devote to it (let’s not kid ourselves, after 20 minutes of exploration, I’m wiped), I would almost recommend it.
Almost.
My last show in California took place 2 nights ago at the Avalon nightclub in San Jose. I was happy to see my friends show up at the door with their tickets in hand – and sad to part ways in the parking lot, knowing this routine of meeting for music was at an end. I love them for their support of my goal of pursuing music over the years. I have grown spoiled with unselfish friends who have supported me and my passion without hesitation.
As we drove nearly an hour to reach the venue the other night, we reminisced about some of the shows I’ve played in this state – and some of the good times that have been had. The show when a man tried to fight my brother in the middle of a crowd for being protective of me. A show in the sun that left me so sweaty I had an embarrassing guitar shaped wet spot on my shirt as I greeted people afterwards. My very first time in a bar to play for a crowd of miserably depressing drunks who murmured to themselves all night long on a rainy Tuesday night. The exhilaration and then exhaustion after completing my first 4 hour set. Being taken to the emergency room after insisting like an idiot on playing at a summer camp event while sick, which caused my windpipe to swell and make breathing frighteningly difficult. Playing inside of a grocery store by the checkout lanes, trying to sing over the intercom blaring things like “Cleanup on aisle 4” and “Jimmy: call on line 3!” as someone from the music industry watched me for the very first time. Driving an hour and a half to a city I’d never been to, to play for my parents in an empty cafe. Being so excited for my very first show in San Francisco – only to find that they had triple booked in the dimly lit and horribly misrepresented pig sty, and never paid me as promised. Serenading people in the parking lot of a quickie-mart that was attempting to save their business by holding a fundraiser. Jumping up and down in my living room when a review of my music was written and posted on a music website. Having to end a show early because my fingers were too frozen to hit the chords at an outdoor winter show. Playing a live radio show on crutches. Having my boyfriend and brother chase little kids off the stage who were trying to unplug my sound gear mid-song. Being so nervous to speak that I would break out into hives every time I had to say something in between songs. The excitement of gaining radio play. The heartache and tears of exciting possibilities falling through. Having a song picked up by a production company for a compilation cd. Receiving those shrink-wrapped cds in the mail, and knowing people all over the world could purchase them.
It’s been an amazing ride, and I wouldn’t trade these experiences, good and bad, for the world. Words cannot even begin to fully express how much love and appreciation I have for my friends and family who have been on this journey every step of the way.
I took some time today to sit in the sun and think again on these past years, and felt the shine warm my lips when I realized I was smiling.
Today was the first sunny day we’ve had in some time.
I spent it with a friend, reveling in the recently absent Vitamin D outside a Starbucks, and soaking in as much sun as I could while I am still able. Though for the past 10 years I’ve been a rather un-hot version of vampirish white, I’m wondering if people in Washington will still believe that I should, by default, be a lovely Beverly Hills golden brown. Oh well. They’re about to see firsthand the results of sun-screen due to sensitive skin and a nerdy fear of skin cancer.
As I drove through town with the windows down, listening to The Shins, I had a moment of brightly tinged sadness. The hardest years of my life were spent in this town. The best. The saddest. The most significant. Listening to the Shins reminded me of those perfect teenage summer days where I could be found chasing the sunlight on my bike, surrounded by my best friends in the universe. And on this similarly sunny day, I was suddenly there again, though that carefree adolescent feeling was a fleeting mindset that I know won’t ever come back in the same way.
Yes, I know – I know. These blogs recently have been full of packing panic, melancholy moving mayhem. I’m expecting them to fill up with new adventures soon. Until then, bear with me.