Highways and Hotels

The worst thing about being a writer is that the things that happen in life that you want to write about are most often the times that words simply can’t express. And while it’s kind of a “had to be there” kind of a thing, I hope I can still explain the last week of my life to you in an interesting way..

Can’t believe these last few days have been only DAYS. Feels like a year instead of a week. First week of touring with HotChelleRae, an amazing band and friends of mine that I’ve known for years. The tour manager Britton and I drove the van from Nashville up to New York and met the band boys at the airport after their mini-tour in Australia. :)

Then we got started on one of the craziest rides I’ve (we’ve) ever put myself (ourselves) onto.. Warped Tour. I’ve done similar things, for a day or even a week out of the summer, but never to an extent like this. I don’t know that I’d go and say it’s absolutely awfully hard work all the time, it’s fairly simple, just the conditions are not always favorable. The hot, sunny weather we’ve had every day has been unforgiving. Finding the right stage and getting the gear and the merch to it every morning hasn’t always been easy, in some cities it’s purely super-human strength pushing me from somewhere beyond. :P The days are long at each festival, and the nights are long getting to the next city on the list.

In fact, as I write this, we are in the van on the way to Florida (and probably as I post this, sitting in the hotel in St. Petersburg..) after our show this morning in North Carolina. Last night I pulled an all-nighter, choosing to give up the 3 hours we actually had at the hotel to sleep, for me to use instead on doing merch paperwork, editing pictures, and visiting the swimming pool. ;) The night before last, I got about an hour of sleep after getting everything done for the next day. “Sleep deprivation” doesn’t really begin to say it all. The band is toughing it out too, half of them being sick, and all of us just trying our best to enjoy what we can, since it’s what we all want to be doing, and make it though the parts we hate, because it’s just part of the ride.

And the ride has been amazing so far. Funny to think that my first week of being 24 is crazier than my whole year as a 23 year old. I’ve met some great new friends and bands on the tour so far, enjoyed getting to know some friends again from years gone by, seen some cool things I never have before, and just having good times with the band. There certainly are enough times that have us at the end of our ropes, wanting to either pull our hair out or just drop and lay face down and out. But I think the hardest part is over, which is breaking into the mold of figuring out WHEN the hard parts are STILL gonna come, since they will, and learning how to deal with them. You really toughen up quick on tour and learn a lot about yourself and what your limits are.

So let’s see what the rest of this tour will bring along with it. And with only an hour of the last 2 days being spent on sleep (yeah, you’d better believe that just before writing this blog, I spent about 2 hours writing a rambling story about a man who went into ‘cloud-watching’ because 3 colorful cloud creatures promised him 3 things to benefit his life. Haha. Don’t know if I’ll be posting THAT one..) I think it’s about time I call it a night and use the few hours we have at this hotel to get in some good dreaming, before I have to wake up.. and realize that lots of my dreams have already come true..

On the road again..

I don’t think I can ever affirm it enough, but traveling is a part of my life that will always be who I am. I love seeing different parts of the world, from the major well-known sights, to middle of nowhere nooks that are probably only interesting to me. I love going places I’ve never gone before, and I also love the fact that I have complete paths across the country memorized.

Growing up, I was fascinated with eras of hitchhiking. From Jack Kerouac’s views of the 40s, to the hippie-esque 60s. And I’ve always dreamed of just starting to walk down the highway, riding in cars and on trains and never really ending up anywhere, just to see what I could see. Nowdays, it’s not as safe as it once was, so now I just dream of making enough extra money to hop in my car and just drive. Pick a road, then another one, no maps involved, get lost on purpose, and remind myself that exploration and discovery are such amazing parts of life.

While I do lots of adventuring on my own, I can’t always afford it.. time-wise, money-wise, and my poor car that’s approaching the 214,000 mile mark probably can’t take much more. Fortunately, I mean EXTREMELY fortunately, for the last few years, I’ve been able to find jobs that keep me on the road. Working for bands and getting to tour with them is like a dream within a dream. It’s something I’ve always loved, and every time I get to go out with a band, it’s like winning the lottery. A love/hate thing sometimes for sure, but that could (and probably will be) a whole new blog in its own. It is a lot of work, certain conditions are hardly ever even near-ideal, and it can take a toll on you being away from things and people you love.

But regardless of the hardships, being “on the move” as often as I can is going to be my goal in life. Or at least for this part of my life. These last few days have been amazing. I’m out enjoying parts of the country I’ve never been to before, but always heard about and dreamed of seeing. (The first view of New York City definitely has a magic to it that I haven’t felt in any other place I’ve been..) While I wish I wasn’t always working so I’d have more time to experience things, I get just enough of a taste to satisfy my need to travel, and just enough of an aftertaste to keep me ready to come back for more..

Goodbye 23.

Today, I’m 23 years old. But that won’t be true tomorrow. I can’t quite explain it, but 23 is all I’ve ever wanted to be. When I was younger, I’d dream of 23. I used to listen to songs about being 23, my favorite number was 23 (but with the wish for luck, I’ve added a 7 and MY number became 237..) and even before that movie “the Number 23”, I’ve had a fascination with it. It just felt… PERFECT.

I always believed that when I finally turned 23, something significant would happen. On one hand, I thought it was the start of what life really was. Maybe I would get married, or start the job I’d always wanted, or cross a giant event off of my “to-do before I die” list. Well, I’m not married, I am not working much of a job at all, and my “to-do before I die” list just seems to keep getting things added to it.

On the other hand, I used to think maybe 23 was all there was. As good as it gets. The best it would ever be. I’ve always had a big fear of the clock. Always wishing I could find a way to control time. And if I could, I would stay this age forever and never grow another day. My mind of the past, which wasn’t always an entirely sane one, used to tell me that after being 23, there wasn’t anything more. And that when the day of 24 finally came, the game of life would be over. And in that time of my life, I was fine with the thought. Live fast, die young, hang on to youth, and maybe to just remain in the naïve joy of this ‘ignorance is bliss’ stage of life, a freedom we know to be our early 20s.

Of course when I thought that, 23 was a distant light at the end of a tunnel. Now that 24 lies just beyond this evening, I couldn’t be more excited to see what’s on the other side. I feel like my life is really just beginning. And maybe that’s what 23 is. A new start, even without one of the significant things I thought would mark this point in life. Turn your walk into a run, begin a whole new path (although keeping the memory of roads once traveled), and finally start learning what life is all about.

For some people, 18 is the age of freedom. For others, 21. For me, it was 23. My doorway to the life I was made for and have been trained for. And I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow, stare 24 in the eyes, and say “I’ve been waiting for you. I’m ready. Show me what you got…”

A Writer of Life for Life.

So.. Welcome to my blog! I don’t know if I’ve ever really liked that word. “BLOG”. Maybe I should just say, welcome to my thoughts as they become words. It’s a little longer, but it says what it needs to say.

I have ALWAYS wanted to start a real, lasting blog. I’ve posted things online before that I’ve written. Which sometimes is beneficial, and other times comes with regret. And that’s what I get scared of as a public writer. A blogger is just a public thinker, right? Letting people into your thoughts can be a crazy thing. But I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Always. And sharing what lives in your mind is just a part of the job. I’ve been writing since I could tell my mom what to tell the pen to write. And as soon as I could move it myself, I’ve been writing ever since.

I think writing is one of the most amazing things. You can communicate with people on such a different level. You can talk to YOURSELF better. You keep a record of your life, and you express what’s in your head- lightening the load in your mind. You can discover a part of yourself that you didn’t know was the way it was, and other people can get to know you in ways that other things could never show.

So that’s why I’m finally starting this thing. I can’t wait to see what comes of it. I used to be afraid to post things I write because I feel like no one else will get it, or that it isn’t profound enough, or because I feel completely different the next day. OR that no one would ever want to read it. And even if no one does- it still exists. For me to look back on when I need to remember who I was and what I’ve learned. So, everyone, or just future ME, let the words begin. Hope I can keep you interested..