Still in the booth

Today was hard. Not because of the work I had to do or the shifting political landscape that needs thoughtful navigating or the lack of sleep. (None of this was helpful.) Today was hard because my head was still on an industrial estate in Bermondsey, spending lovely time in a cosy recording studio. 

That joke about figuring out who you want to be when you grow up becomes a bit less funny when you hit your mid thirties. But for me, it’s always had some truth to it. I’m good at my job – I’m organised, I write well, I learn quick, I work hard. I’ve only ever been a fundraiser, and I do it well. New job is adding some interest thanks to the politics and giving me a wider range of things to do, and I can certainly see a future there. 

But when I think about what I want to do every day and where I feel happy, and where what I’m doing is the right thing for me to be doing, it’s all about music and creating and singing and playing. I currently don’t have the security (financial, familial, whatever you want to call it) to pursue that kind of life full-time. Maybe knowing where I want to get to is enough for now? Let’s see. 

This vague ramble of thinking brought to by someone avoiding writing about politics. It’s inevitably going to happen soon, but not today, Satan, not today. 

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