Blogging late this morning due to a late night gig. Tried to sleep in but Billie and Cheyenne (my loving, nutso, girlee dogs) wouldn't have it. They went to bed at a respectable time. To them, 7:30am seemed like a perfectly respectable time to rise. Steve saved me, getting up to let them out then feed them.

But then they came back.

Ah, well.

Feeling all kinds of weird today. Blew my voice out last night. Partly due to an inferior sound system. Partly because I now only perform (sing) once a month. The voice is a like muscle. If you don't work it regularly, you lose control. Although the audience was receptive last night, I know I didn't sound my best. Not even close. My vocal chords took a beating as did my confidence. Not. Fun.  On top of that, this morning my knees are killing me.  Due to my doctor's advice, last year I gave up the motivational and swing dance gigs.  He said I could sing on stage, but to limit my movements, staying away from things that 'twist' the knees. The problem with that is that I'm a performer, not a recording. I can't just stand there and sing with an occasional head and upper body bop. Well, I could, but that wouldn't be much fun for the audience... or me.

Last night I was feeling 50% but I gave 100%. Today I'm paying the price--physically and mentally. The thought keeps knocking in my head, I don't want to do this anymore. If I can't sing and dance at my very best, I don't want to subject the audience or myself to an inferior performance.  To sing at the top of my game, I need to perform at least three times a week every week. That's not going to happen. Atlantic City's desire for younger entertainers is still going strong. The alternative is to 'practice' at home daily. That's not going to happen either. I lack the motivation. I have limited free time and I'd rather use it to write. 

There it is, really.  At this point in my life, for many reasons, I'd rather write than perform. I only have the desire and stamina to do battle in one competative, fickle industry. I choose publishing over entertainment. (Although publishing is a form of entertainment--just off stage, so to speak) So why do I cling to this one last singing gig? Partly, because it pays well and for the most part the gig's a no-brainer. But mostly because it is my only singing gig and I can't imagine not ever performing live again. I can't imagine letting go of something that's been a part of my professional life since I was fourteen. But I know it's coming and that has me feeling all kinds of weird.

Tonight I'll watch the Oscars. I'll no doubt grumble about the actresses who obsess on being rail thin and pay for procedures that make them look unnaturally perfect and freakishly young. Another reminder of why I now prefer to pursue my creative endeavors 'off camera'. Tommorrow I'll immerse myself in my writing and get that same jazzed rush I used to get on stage. The weirdness will pass. Until next month's singing gig. Note to self: Let go and move on.