I woke up a little late this morning. I rushed through my usual shower/shave/dress/blowdry routine, and made it out the door relatively close to on time. I had to stop at the store on the way in, having somehow managed to bite my tongue and develop a huge, painful canker sore that's swelled up my tongue and makes me sound like I've got cotton in my cheeks every time I say something (feels okay now, though - before you can say "Ambesol"). My hair is a little static-y and I didn't have time to iron my pants so they're kinda wrinkly, and I'm a little tired, and I've got too much work and I'm two shades shy of broke.
Did I mention that none of that makes a lick of difference because I am fucking FABULOUS?
I mean it. I feel like a million damn bucks.
Why? Well, I'm still a little high from last night's gig. I mean, the audience, considering it was 11 on a Sunday night, was freakin' great. The soundman was awesome. The venue was actually pretty cool. The other bands were really fun. All told, it was a real pleasure. By mistake, I was listed as the headliner, and while I feel bad about the mistake since I only landed the gig through the kindness of one of the other bands, it was still really fucking cool to see my name on the half-ass marquee outside the club. Especially at this stage in the game, every little bit of encouragement counts. It's the stuff that helps keep me fired up and pushing to get this show really going. Plus I made a little bank, which is always nice.
And the fact that more than one person referred to me as a "rock goddess" certainly helped. What can I say? Flattery works wonders on me!
In other news, my song is still bobbing around in the top twenty on the charts, which is really gratifying and encouraging.
Meanwhile, I think this might just be a crazy, crazy week. I've got stuff slated *every* night, with double-duty on a couple nights. It's all good stuff, good progress I will be making towards getting the music on the track I want it to follow, and helpful and all that...but still a little overwhelming. I don't know that i've ever really been so busy, so needing to keep track of what I'm doing, who I'm meeting, where I have to be. On the other hand, it's a far (and welcome) cry from the "gee, I've got nothing to do and nobody to hang out with" weeks of the summer past.
Feast or famine, I guess, as usual.
Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.