Country Girl Really is Going to Town

The only surefire way I know of to make sure I go after what I really want is to broadcast my intentions to everyone I know. This way, you see, I'm always held accountable for the dreams I'm threatening to follow. I can't slink away from it anymore, because too many people know about it. Too many people will call me out on it. Too many people have seen my heart exposed.

So here I am before you now, spilling my guts about what I'm looking for in my life. I want to sing. I want to be onstage. I've wanted to be a singer for as long as I can remember (which isn't saying much - I honestly have a hard time recalling what I did yesterday). Somewhere around the precious age of 5, my sweet Daddy taught me "Jolene." He would play it on his Yamaha acoustic and I would sing it for anyone who would listen. "I'm beggin' of you, please don't take my man." Maybe that's where this obsession started. Or maybe it started on one of those countless Sundays at Golden Central Baptist singing those beautiful old hymns. Those are still some of my favorite songs. Wherever the seed was planted, its roots took hold. They were deep even then. And they've only grown deeper since.

Even as insignificant as my acoustic shows in Starkville were, they made me feel alive. It didn't matter if I was singing for three people, which I did on a couple of occasions, or if I was singing for a bar full. I am my true self when I am singing. You won't find a more honest representation of my very heart. It's my favorite feeling on earth. I yearn for it. I ache for it. I need it to be me. It's a revealing and personal experience. And I'm fairly certain that if you look just right while I'm singing, you can actually see my soul. Right there, out in the open, sharing itself with everyone in the room.

So what's my point here? As of September 1, I will be a resident of L.A. I found some great roommates and a pretty sweet apartment. I'm going there for one reason and for one reason only: to sing. The music world is a horrifying place. I don't know if I can hack it. But you know, I didn't know if I could hack moving across the country and that's worked out well so far.

I don't have a job yet. Making rent won't be easy, and I know it. But if I have to slave at Starbucks or serve cheap beer in a dive bar (right, like alcohol in L.A. is cheap) then that's what I'll do. I said when I left Mississippi that I was sick of taking the easy road. Sick of doing the expected. Sick of being secure and comfortable. So this country girl's heading to town. She's not so scared of pursuing her dream. She's horrified, though, of what will happen to her soul if she never tries.