My house flooded yesterday. Well, I should say my house flooded for a few days. My friend and I went to Michigan, to see her sister. I came back to a broken water pipe and a flooded office/studio. Yup. I said studio. As in music. Every bit of music that I was working on, dreaming of making another CD, is gone. Every old song that I wrote. All of my equipment. Luckily my main instrument is trumpet, and you can't really "flood" a trumpet. But my keyboard and drum machine and all that stuff flooded very nicely.
So here I am, trying to reframe. A fresh start maybe. A chance to get my equipment updated. A chance to remodel the house. (Its pretty well destroyed.) These are all the things I was thinking yesterday, when I walked in the door. I was working hard to save what I could, and I guess I didn't have much time to stop and think. So, I was stuck in positive mode. You know, look at the bright side. That was yesterday. Today, when the thought woke me up at 6am, it was more like someone had died.
Of course I know no one died. I'm healthy. My old CD collection made it. My books made it. My trumpet will pull through, I think. Honestly, I don't care about the equipment. But, the music. The ideas. The songs that I'd finished and hadn't recorded yet. The little ideas that I hadn't started to develop yet. The first songs I wrote, when I was 18. Those have all gone on to glory. No amount of remodeling will bring them back. And so, I say good-bye. God bless.
I'm gonna need a moment.
Okay, moment's over. Didn't last long. I've gotta fix my house. I've gotta figure out where my kids will be staying until I do. I've gotta get my work done. I have papers to write for class. And yet, there's my music. Dead in the water, like the dude at the end of Titanic. And as I yell for help, looking back broken hearted at the loss of my love, I think to myself. Why is it that my music is always the one that gets left behind?