Taking Risks

10 04 2011

I’ve never been a big risk taker.  I’m not one of those people you will find jumping out of a perfectly good airplane or diving head first off of a bridge.

Nope.  Not me.

There are a lot of times, however, when I wish I was more of a risk taker.  I don’t know how often this happens to other people, but there are many times when I see someone do something successfully and I think, “I could try something like that.  Why don’t I?”

The answer, of course, is fear.  It’s that annoying voice in my head that gets chatty whenever I start thinking outside the box or considering a  change of something significant.  Instead of taking a moment to brainstorm all of the possibilities, as soon as my psyche senses change coming, it goes into overdrive and pumps out all sorts of reasons why ‘X’ idea would never work. 

I hate that when that happens.

Lately, however, I’ve been trying to work on this.  Since my husband moved out, I’ve been trying to get rid of some of the ‘woulda, coulda, shoulda’s” in my life.   My desire to do this comes in part from the fact that I’ve realized that I knew my marriage was dead LONG before my husband said the word divorce. If I had listened to my intuition more and the fear less, I could have saved myself a lot of pain.  My intuition knew the right thing to do and I ignored it, so I’ve been trying to change that.

So, with that said, there are a couple of small risks I’ve taken in the past week, that seem to be working out in my favor. One is a personal growth development and the other is the next installment of where things stand with The Blues Man.

Last Friday, when I was out of town, I was sitting in a bar across the table from one of my teammates, Gary.  There was a solo guitarist playing and singing classic rock songs from the 60s and 70s.  The musician was really good, and a lot of us were singing along occasionally with the songs he was playing.  Suddenly, Gary says, “you should go sing with him.”

“No, I’m not going to do that.”

So then Gary said something like, “You should consider singing in a band.”

“No, I’m too old.”

To which, Gary, who is probably 15 years older than me, snickered and said, “No, I’M too old.”  

Of course, it was also at this point that I realized that the guy singing in the bar was probably closer to Gary’s age than to mine.  So, you see; Gary planted a seed.

Now, the truth is, I have wanted to be in a band since I was sitting in the backseat of my dad’s car singing with his 8 tracks of Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash, and The Statler Brothers.  My mother says I was singing almost as soon as I learned to talk.  Countless hours of my life have been spent playing the piano and singing with almost any recording artist whose voice  fell in a similar range to my own.  I’m a tenor/alto, so I can’t hit the high money notes, but I can cross over and sing both male and female parts if I need to.

In high school, there was a music store located next door to the hardware store where my mother worked.  The front part of the store held stereo equipment, albums, and cassettes for sale, but toward the rear of the store, they had pianos lined up in two rows,  one on each side of a center aisle.  Guitars, drums, various other band instruments, and racks of sheet music hung from the walls.  After school, on my way to check in with my mom, I would stop by the music store, pull sheet music off the walls, sit down at a piano, and start playing.  Nobody seemed to mind, and nobody ever stopped me.

The other confession I have to make about the music store is that I had a horrible crush on the guy who worked behind the counter.  He was about 6 years older than me–danger, danger when you’re only 16–and was a drummer in a band.  You get the picture.

So, there I was musically inclined, teenage hormones raging, and one day the drummer asks me to be in his band.

Oh yes, yes, oh YES!!

Mom, of course, said, “NO!”  There was no way she was going to have me playing in a band!  There were some other things said about men in bars etc., but the bottomline was a big, fat NO.  No way, no how!

So, that was it.  I never seriously considered pursuing my rock star dreams again, until last week when Gary told me I should look for a band.  Why the hell not, right?  There certainly have been numerous moments in the twenty some odd years since my music store debut that I’ve wished I was in a band, but I had always talked myself out of it.  But, what do I have to lose?  I’d rather knock some of these risks not taken off my wish list now than regret missed opportunities on my deathbed.

Craigslist again came to my rescue.  I found a handful of ads seeking vocalists, narrowed them down to three that seemed the most interesting, and sent them an audio file of my singing Elvis’ “Are You Lonesome.”  Within a day, I heard back from two of the three groups.  The most promising gig, seems to be doing background vocals in studio for an album one group is producing in May.  I’m SO psyched!

So, there’s risk one taken.  I’ll keep you posted as it develops.

Now, on to dating, which is why we’re all here, right?  I’m in the process of setting up dates 10 and 11, but you probably remember that the other day, in an email message, The Blues Man asked me if I wanted to kiss his mucho mariachi mustache.  Well, I took Surrey Gal’s suggestion and sent him some song lyrics.  Not my best work, but they certainly kept the conversation going.

Mucho Mariachi Mustache

I’d like to tell you a story
’bout this bushy hair on my face.
You see, my mucho mariachi mustache
occupies a very prominent place.
Atop my lip and under my nose
This mucho mariachi mustache grows.
It’s the topic of conversation,
and has become the subject of prose.

This gal I met wanted to kiss me,
But was afraid there were no lips there.
She was curious what it was like
To kiss a man with a mouth full of hair.
To find my lips she’d have to part
my mucho mariachi mustache.
Lift and separate the hair on my face
To allow our lips to mash.

Oh, mucho mariachi mustache don’t chase the girls away…

I told him the song would probably be good as a cross between an Irish drinking song and something like Bonnie Raitt’s “Papa Come Quick.”  He, of course, would need a Spanish guitar bridge and some guitar drumming right after the chorus.

He liked it!  But, then he informed me that he had cut off the mucho mariachi mustache, and would need to regrow it to its mucho, rugged thickness.

This is where I took my second big risk of the week.  I played my queen.  I just put her out there, and wrote back, “Can I kiss you before you grow back the 3M?




11 responses

10 04 2011

You go girl! You’re certainly no longer 16 and you have a fantastic voice–MAKE it happen!!!!

10 04 2011


10 04 2011
Surrey gal

Ha ha ha! Your song made me LAUGH! Properly and loud 😀
And your reply to him was very, very sexy. 🙂
And of course congratulations for the voice part. fingers crossed it works out well. It will, why shouldn’t it!

10 04 2011

Thank you!

10 04 2011

I want to come to your first gig.

10 04 2011

I’ll put you on a list! 🙂

11 04 2011

You know I’ve gotta endorse the whole singing thing. Remember us little people when you hit it big.

11 04 2011

I’ll let you know if anyone needs a good bass. Happy Birthday, btw.

13 04 2011
The Friend Zone « My Dating Prescription

[…] to stop.  It’s not like I’m just sitting around waiting to find out whether or not The Blues Man is interested in kissing me.  I have a date with Man #10 all lined up for tomorrow night, and Man […]

14 04 2011

This post made me think of the fun we would have when you ‘babysat’ us. We would sit in front of the record player and sing Linda Ronstadt and ABBA at the top of our lungs! Great memories. I have since introduced my own kids to Linda Ronstadt’s music and they love her! Good to hear you’re still making music.

14 04 2011

Don’t forget the Bee Gees! I just recently downloaded that Linda Ronstadt album from iTunes. I’m still singing “Desperado” and “Love Has No Pride.” We also used to watch “The Dukes of Hazard” but I’ve given up wearing short shorts long ago. ” 🙂

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