Addiction

*** Originally appeared on the blog Quarter Life Catastrophe***

If you ask 99% of people what their interests are, or what they like to do in their spare time, music is going to be in the list they ramble off. Everyone likes music, for the most part, so saying that I am a music fan is sort of a cliché. But it’s deeper then that.

For as long as I can remember, music has been a constant friend to me. Friend… that sounds weird, doesn’t it? But it works to describe my elusive love affair with all the various songs that fill the soundtrack of life. Music has enhanced some wonderful times and carried me through some awful ones.

When I hear a well written song, performed by an amazing vocalist, it gets inside of me and I feel goose bumps form from the inside out. There have been times where it absolutely paralyzes me and all I can do is close my eyes and let the song overcome me like a drug.

Just last week, I climbed into bed one afternoon to grab a couple hours of sleep, and the folks living in the apartment living above me flipped on a rap record, like they do most everyday. I was exhausted and the instant the beat came bouncing through the ceiling, my body tightened in anger as I said some choice words under my breath in their direction. I took a deep breath and slipped my big black headphones over my ears and at the push of a button, my frustrations melted away.

I have been leaning on music a lot lately. My career is in the air and I have found comfort in my old friend. I worked so hard to be where I am and I thought about how I got here. I know people who would kill to be working on a morning radio show in market 16. And I do love my job. I get to play music for four hours every single day, and then I get to work in top of the line audio studios after that. I have worked in smaller markets, and I know how good we have it here in Minneapolis.

But I am also tired. Tired of working full-time hours and being a part-time employee. Tired of constantly wondering if I am going to make rent next month. Tired of clawing my way to the top of the pile.

As the tunes filled my soul, the only glimmer of light came from the street lamp just outside my living room window, peeking through the vertical blinds. The thin lines of brightness touched an antique radio that my dad gave me. My eyes were drawn to it and all these great memories from my experience in radio thus far flooded my mind.

I love what I do. It’s what I know, it’s what I’m good at and I don’t want to give it up. It all comes back to the music. Music makes all the other corporate bull shit worthwhile. I know that leaving radio doesn’t mean that I can’t still love music. But being where I am now, let’s me be a part of it. I am more then just a music fan. I am surrounded by people everyday who love this business as much as I love it. They get it.

I am anxious to see how this story plays out. Sounds odd because I am living it. All of this uncertainty has my stomach tied in knots. So I am off to catch a musical high and drift away to a place where there’s no rent, no bills, no student loans. Ah, what a wonderful world that would be.

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