To sing? or not to sing….

Music is something that has remained constant in my life. It’s a part of me. So much so that I have it permanently tattooed on my skin. (Small treble clef on my ankle- nothing too gaudy). I have come to appreciate music on a whole new level when I found my voice as a kid. My mother was a singer and constantly would do renditions of Madonna and Bonnie Rait in the living room. As a child I remember her using the remote control as her mic- a tactic I still use to this day.

I eventually took up singing after she bought me a karaoke machine for Christmas. My first performance was infront of my elementary school. I dressed in leather- head to toe and sang Express Yourself by Madonna. I’m not sure every eight year old understood the lyrics like: “Satin sheets are very romantic, what happens when he’s not there…” but they enjoyed it nonetheless. I remember it being one of the most amazing moments in my life. The rush I got from performing was amazing. At 12 I knew it was my calling. Maybe not to be a Madonna Karaoke singer, but to perform and make my own music.

I think there is something powerful in singing, performing, and sticking with my passion for 20 years. That has to mean something right? So here is my dilemma. I made my bed and now I have to sleep in it. I’ve been in bands, duos, written tons of songs, co-written, and do the solo thing occasionally. I’ve moved to the city with hopes of someday pursuing music. I’ve been here for a while now…. so why have I not done anything? Shit or get off the pot Erin…

Every time I go to a concert I get inspired. Recently, I went to Two Door Cinema Club. These kids are 23-24 and rocked the stage like they’ve been doing it since they were born. I could do that. I’ve been rocking the remote control since mamma dearest first taught me.

I’m inspired. I have the musical itch. I’m going to continue to write and i’m going to get my ass on that stage sooner than later.

Stay tuned. And if there is no musically inspired update that depicts a performance other than a Whitney Houston Karaoke night at the dive pub down the street, than slap me. Verbally.



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