So, I used to dream about being a rock star. I would write songs on my guitar or piano as a teen and record them on my little computer mike. I would imagine singing them to a huge crowd, which conveniently would include ex-boyfriends (all 1 1/2 of them) who did me wrong and were dying to have another chance with my beautiful and talented self. I would go into the bathroom with my CD Walkman and sing to the mirror, perfecting my “performing face,” complete with dim lighting and overdone make-up. That was my dream and I wanted it oh so bad.
Now let’s grow up a little bit and come back to the realities of this dream I had. This dream I wanted. Why didn’t it work out? Why am I not still relentlessly crooning at coffee shops and pushing my demo CD on every person who has a pulse? Because I didn’t know my dream. I wanted it for sure but I didn’t know it like I needed to in order to make it a reality. Continue reading