I had this dream when I was a kid, at about the same time I discovered that I was one of those people. I was going to be a singer, and everyone would come to my big concerts, and I’d be interviewed by the big magazines. I was going to be a star.
My dream didn’t seem impossible because I discovered at that time that people actually enjoyed hearing me sing. That first concert, after my old music teacher had worked on me and my voice for six months, and sandpapered the Blighty out of it, was nerve-wracking.
People didn’t throw rotten tomatoes, and they didn’t demand that I would be taken off stage, and nobody every talked to my teacher to encourage me to find something more suitable to pursue. Yes, I was so going to be a star. My friend Maria agreed, and decided on what I should wear for the big interviews.
I worked so hard. If there’s anything that I’m good at it’s this: I can put on these blinders, and follow a goal through anything. I work damned hard to reach my goals. There’s a backside to this ‘quality’. I can become utterly blinkered, and not see things creep up on me. Then, when something happens, I’m taken completely by surprise.
After a year of working to become A Star – hey, I was fourteen, give me some slack – I hit a wall with my singing. I wasn’t enjoying it anymore. It felt like work, like a chore. I started to think up excuses why I shouldn’t do this concert or that gig. Good excuses, I even convinced myself.
Yesterday I let go of my drama-llama sing-song theatre interest. I gave them notice that I’d lost interest, and that it had started to feel too much like work. Which is not entirely true, because I enjoyed it well enough, but the other people were there to pursue a career in stage arts. And I was being sucked into that mentality when all I want is a hobby that allow me to sing.
I regret doing so now – damn do I regret it – but it was the right thing to do. And besides, if I’m going to start working next week, then I won’t have time for that. So, no, that fourteen year old star-struck kid I used to be still won’t get what he wants. Well, except for sometimes.