The Soundtrack of my Life

One, two, three-four-five
Everybody in the car so come on let's ride
To the liquor store around the corner
The boys say they want some gin and juice
But I really don't wanna...
Mambo No. 5 - Lou Bega

When I lived in Boston, I worked out at World Gym 5 days a week; 2 days a week with a drop dead gorgeous personal trainer named Chris Ciullia. When this song came on the overhead, the place would catch fire. Weights increased, sweat flowed, grunts echoed off the walls. And that was just me! Okay, no, that was everyone. There's something about a kick-ass song that just gets into your blood and makes you feel capable anything.

Career-wise, I'd have to say the dumbest thing I've ever done was to give up singing for a living. There is a high you get from standing onstage, belting out one of your own songs, that's better than any drug, better than sex.

When I left the band, it was the right thing to do. In 2002, my life was in a definite state of turmoil. Years of living on the road, waking up in cramped hotel rooms with five bandmates and multiple strangers strewn about the place, was taking its toll. My boyfriend was also the band manager and bass player; the togetherness was suffocating. And cliche of cliches, my biological clock was ticking. I'd been told I couldn't have children, but I was desperate for a puppy.

Boyfriend and I had "the talk" no less than 472 times between 2001 and 2002. One memorable weekend in Key West, preparing to take the stage at Finnegan's Wake, I gave the ultimatum. Wrap up the playing for at least a few months, or I was out. Boyfriend said okay, but continued to book gigs, business as usual. I packed my meager belonging, sold my gear for the cash I would need, and bailed.

A lot has changed since then. I met and married the love of my life. I gave birth to 2 beautiful children, one of whom tragically died a few hours after he was born. I'm now pregnant with my third (and last, I'm 40 for chissakes!) child. I moved from Boston, to New York, to Ohio, and back to Upstate New York. I wouldn't trade any of it, my husband and my children fill me with more joy than even the best gig ever could.

But in that part of my soul that's me and me alone, where only what I want matters... I am empty. I miss music. I miss performing. I know I'm going back.

No, not to my crazy-assed touring days. And not to my ex! He and I are still great friends - in fact, I'm currently designing the art work for his new band's CD. But I have no urge to give up my family in any way, shape or form. I am happy with my life in all ways, except in my career.

I took the ultimate cop-out. I took a job in corporate America, and told myself I was doing the right thing. The grown-up, respectable thing. What a horrible, horrible mistake! I don't want to be a gray, mindless corporate drone, and I sure as hell don't want my children growing up thinking that that's the "right" thing to do! No, no, a thousand times no!

Years ago I had a stroke, and for 48 hours things were pretty grim. The doctors said I might survive - but likely not. I came incredibly close to dying. And yet, lying in that hospital bed with tubes sticking into and out of every damned part of me, I was more alive than I am today. Today I am that horrible spectre, the zombie-like creature who is Going Through The Motions.

For me, for Ciara, for Matthew, and for Rory, I have to go back. To teach my children the meaning of life, I have to be alive myself.

If you're a guitar player reading this, give me a yell!