Last night, I joined four girlfriends up in the rafters of the MCI Center for Prince’s Musicology show. W-O-W!
I cannot even begin to descibe how godawful my day at work was. So awful, in fact, that I toyed with the idea of bailing out and eating my ticket.
But in a fit of, what…. rebellion? despair? complacency? – I logged off my computer, grabbed my broken red umbrella, and ran in the rain to Fado for a quick pint before the show.
At one point, Prince disappeared, leaving Greg Boyer on stage with his trombone, and changed from a devilish red ensemble into a teal outfit. The fabric shimmered, like a glossy silk.
The color reminded me of this suit I once wore, when I was first interviewing in DC some nine-odd years ago. And the music conjured a strange sensation, a long lost feeling of hope and idealism and fun and adventure. My first job paid less than $25,000 a year, but I was so much more upbeat, intoxicated by life’s many possibilities.
Now I’m bored, detached, reclusive, in park, spinning my wheels but not going anywhere. I spend most of my days daydreaming instead of doing something I enjoy. Is this what happens when you meet goals and get what you think you want?
The concert inspired me. Why am I working in public relations? My destiny is screaming – go on the road baby… travel and see the world…. be a roady… be a dancer…. be a groupie…. blog about the tour from the road…. be happy now, today.
I want to leave all the bureaucrats to their peon existences and trade in my corner office – and all the good it’s doing me – for a happier existence.
Things did look better this morning (things always do, right?) – and the music and the rhythms and the nostalgia and screaming my lungs out and gyrating like a mad woman and hanging out with a bunch of girly-girls and flirting with the guys behind us definitely helped some – but my job search, my career makeover, offically began today.