Time Warp

It's odd, coming back after a month on the road. It was odder last time; when I returned in late April from the first tour, I didn't really have a home. I crashed on Eman's couch for five days before finding a place to move in to on the first of May. I then had another sublet in another place for a month, and finally found this place where I'm currently living. So this time, at least, I had my own bed, my computer, and an affectionate cat to return to, as well as a church community that I'm much closer to now than I was back in May.

All that aside . . .

The reality is that touring is like temporarily visiting a different dimension where time is hardly measured at all. You drift from show to show and experience to experience, with sometimes the feeling that events all happened as if they were jumbled on top of one another, although also sometimes seeming as if they happened eons ago. It's really a weird sensation. And then you get home, and likely nothing has changed. At least in my case, the old grind, the old stress, is still here; I have enough money to pay my December expenses, thanks to this tour and a couple gigs, but I still feel the pressure I did when I left, which is to finally start getting ahead financially - to move beyond zero. For a few days I felt pretty chill and relaxed, but before I knew it, all the old anxiety was back, including the familiar relief at finally landing that necessary last gig I needed to make sure I had enough money to get through the month (gotta love last minute sub jobs).

It's odd.

Not saying I regret leaving - I love touring, and I really, really, really needed to get out of the city. And disorientation isn't a big negative, really, just a state of existence that perhaps I will need to get used to if I'm to become a touring musician.