Judgement Day

Not the apocalypse. Although I did see someone riding a full elliptical bike down the Danforth. No seat; just standing and riding. But this judgement day to which I refer is not the end of the world.

In fact it is an affirmation that the (my) world is going to keep turning. We have another month of the open mic!

This means a number of things to me. First off, it means that I have more time to prove that this little engine that could, CAN. There is a market for us, and the people who are coming to play are slotting Sunday nights into their schedules to keep playing for us. All of a sudden I'm starting to bridge the gap between the two things I want to do in this life. Make music and provide others with the ability to make music.

I recently learned some more valuable shit about myself in the process. Not only am I slightly qualified and horrifyingly passionate about musicians, but I am also decent at seeing this entire situation from the business angle. That said, I'M SELLING OUT!

Bullshit. Selling out is not about money. If the show, or any band, or your mom with her customized knitting outfit, if these entities earn money from their craft, GOOD FOR THEM. Its not about money, or sponsors, its about keeping the vision you have. If I rake in the dough playing small gigs in indie clubs and getting Now Magazine critics drooling at my feet, but all I ever wanted was to don a glittery tube top and shoot fire from a crown while I belt out candy pop, I'm a sell out.

The vision is the thing. The mission comes first. And if we start to grow, and it becomes a real destination for some folks and we get some stickers from some music peeps who represent the man, then bring it. This is about success by the standards we set for ourselves. This is not a contest of restraint or a battle of who has the better starving artist story. However, I did sneak into the movies today for the first time ever because I spent my last dime on bug traps for the hole I call an apartment. (I'm not proud of having cheated the filmmakers or the industry, and I love Joss Whedon but I own every bit of film and television he's ever touched, so the man can do without my ticket price for now. By the way, everyone go see The Cabin in the Woods. And pay. I plan to go again. AND PAY.) Point is, it's about measuring success as to the individual.

Trivial details of my still poverty-stricken existence aside, this weekly gig I put together still holds so much meaning in so many interesting ways that I can't dwell too much on all the things it says about me and what I'm doing with my life. It's such a ride that I just have to not stop to reflect just yet, not too much anyway. For now I think the course of action is to keep going, keep building.

Its an odd thing to consider, defining yourself. I have always been a lot of things, but host is a very different role from performer, from marketing chick and roadie and back-up guitarist and harmonizer and that girl who works at second cup and is inevitably also creative in some way. All of these labels excite and inspire me to live up to them. I'm still a little foggy about the version of me that made this happen, because now I'm her sometimes, and other times I'm also a fumbling fop who plugs some things in and makes a night of music happen for a bunch of people who then say that they enjoyed themselves. Still got to wrap my head around these things. But in the mean time somebody smart decided I have more time to keep doing this. Maybe before it's all over I'll figure it out at least a little bit. Doubtful though. And I wonder, does it really matter if I ever completely 'get' it?