identity

Thea Wheeler always used to tell me, "if you can see yourself doing something other than music, don't go into music."

This summer I wanted to be a writer, broadcast journalist, chef, psychiatrist, thrift store operator and stay at home dad.

Hopefully this career wavering will subside when things pick up in Amherst.

I mean, am I legitimate yet? I have only a limited resume. It's sporadic, hodge-podge. Nothing consistent, so it's hard to be taken seriously. Do I have any musical identity or will I always be some John Wellington Wells of the music career?

I don't love opera. Is that a singer's disease?

Even an enlightening conversation with Andrea over coffee on Wednesday morning made me realize that to love what you do is different than love while you're doing something. What exactly is my motivation?

I thought about this a lot on the drive to Rochester yesterday. I want to tour and to touch people's lives. I love to make art but I do want a real job.

Personal assistant/free lance musician? What I was going to do when I thought San Francisco was on the radar.

Vocal music does make me happy though. So does family. Molly and Joe finally came home from Arizona yesterday so I shipped a bunch of things out to them. Ate a garbage plate. Met with Don at an Apple Store, got free Godivas and Abbott's ice cream.

Life is good.

Heather and I have a fun Sunday adventure planned.

Voice roster came- this is really happening.

I want to be a rock star.

And I'll spare that $1,000,000,000 for right now.