“Now you don’t come out to play – Girlfriend threw your toys away Ain’t got time for all that jive –Work your butt off nine to five…”
(from “You Don’t Rock No More”)
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If you play in a band – or do whatever your special thing is – you may wake up one morning realising the fun’s over. Some people’s priorities change with age. The fire that once burned so brightly gradually morphs into some kind of minor inconvience and reminders of it are removed from view. Till one day some chance occurrence triggers off the memory and you wonder what the hell happened to your dreams.
Here’s the choice: reclaim what you had, or act like it never happened. Neither is an easy road. Reclaiming your old dreams means confronting why you dumped them. Drowning them seems simpler on the face of it but there will always be an uneasy feeling – even if it’s buried six feet under – that you sold your soul overnight. Or in tiny pieces as the years went on.
I made a conscious decision not to live with that, and I’ve turned down more than one “safe” job offer over the years. People are sometimes surprised that I choose a chronically insecure lifestyle But when I have a rent-panic, I remind myself that I will never, EVER have to answer company mails on a Sunday to ensure I can escape to Isla Whereva once a year. And when I face the final curtain I’ll be entitled to have a certain special song played at my wake: