Thought for the day...

Does life imitate art or is it the other way around?

I've just had a rather literal fulfilment of one of my songs - well, in a way, yeah. Not a carbon copy of the situation I had outlined but the sentiment is there. There is some comfort in knowing I have carved a niche for myself in the pseudo-genre of "love gone wrong" - because people are people, awkward situations are awkward situations and it turns out I really do know how to write that kind of song. And there is also some comfort in the fact that the majority of the songs I write are about non-action and today I did something very action oriented. In a way, I confronted something that was one of my worst fears and came out with my absolute worse case scenario. But you know what? It's better that I took action and actually did something. Because who wants to write 46 more songs about never doing anything? How lame is that?

And the thing is, my absolute worse case scenario came to pass - and it wasn't so bad. It wasn't great but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as I'd feared it would be. Funny how things you're afraid of turn out to be not so bad when you actually see them happen. Course, here I am being rational, as I consider myself a more or less rational human being. Chances are the irrationality will hit me at some point in the next little while when I have got through all the things that I have to distract me with this afternoon/evening. When it arrives, I will let it come in for a short party in the foyer of my mind but it shall not pass further. I hope. Self-pity is so lame. But is occasionally an indulgence I allow myself. Briefly.

In other news: For my Tuesday night gig, I wrote out a set list... then I left it at home. So I wrote out another set list... then I lost it. So I got up and did the gig without a set list and kind of off the cuff. Anyway, I've found both missing set lists. The first was on my desk, exactly where I left it. The second was in my shoe. I assume I put it there for safe keeping but forgot I'd put it there. This is the main difference between me and my sister, we have decided. She knows where everything is. I put things places and forget. However, I have the pleasure of finding $20 notes in my jacket pocket randomly. She does not.

So. Off to distraction. Then maybe afterwards I'll come home, write an awful song to get today out of my system and put lots of minor chords in it. Maybe I'll wear eyeliner while I write it. Won't that be fun?

With quiet amusement at her own stupidity,
Rose