reflections on a percentage.

i am twenty-four years old.  yesterday marked the point where i realized i had spent twenty-five percent of my life with my husband.  wow.  it really made me take a step back and think of what that meant.

i met thomas after playing a gig in beckley.  special guest had played that night with a few other bands and it was a homecoming of sorts for me, having not played since i went away to college.  he was there supporting his brother, who had played bass for one of the bands that night, and it was the first time i had met him, even though i had agreed to spend the rest of that week before christmas helping him on a film, lifting and toting and the like.  i had no idea what i was getting out of the deal.  i thought it would just be some work experience in my field.  look what i ended up with.

fast forward to now.  we've been married three years, together for six.  as i posted on love several weeks ago, my ideas on what marriage is and isn't have changed significantly, though i believe it's for the best.  i got myself locked into a partnership, not a romance.  it's a series of challenges, a teammate to help me get through this thing called life.  i love where we've made it so far.

there are a lot of people i know that knew me for many years before they knew my husband.  it warms my heart to know there are also a lot of people that have never known us apart.  to many of our friends, we have always been a unit, our names generally used together, not ever knowing one without the other.  and while we are both very independent people and i sometimes cringe at the idea of being even slightly dependent on someone else (i am thankful for someone who can reach the cabinet above the fridge and unscrew stubborn jars), i like knowing that without that twenty-five percent of my life with him in it i would be a very different person, probably not nearly as happy and successful as i am now.

talent, or perhaps lack thereof.

as i reevaluate the things i enjoyed back when i had free time, things i've mentioned here (running, theatre, crochet), i often wonder--when is it time to say, "well, i really enjoyed that back then."  and then move on.
i think the thing that bothers me most is the fact that i feel that i've lost some of the talent i once had.  maybe it was because i had more time to work on my talents.  or maybe i was just never really good to begin with, and i just had more time to fool myself into thinking otherwise.

until very recently, i hadn't played my guitar in public in six years.
i found a guitar in the lost and found in philadelphia, so i took it.  i took it and i used it and played for the first time in six years and, at least i think, didn't suck too bad.
last time i was home i tried to go to a bar down the street to play at their open mic, but it was electric.

tonight, as i sat on the couch saying to myself, "you can do this, or you can fall asleep on the couch.  again," i got up instead, drove over to the bar, and found out yet again, it was electric open mic night.
mind you, there's not a single other open mic night in town that offers an acoustic setting, i just continually miss it apparently.  and maybe it's just a moment in sadness that's got me thinking, but i often wonder, is the universe trying to tell me something?  maybe its time to hang it up?

i don't want to stop playing, but every time i get enough guts to try it, i get shut down.  maybe this is a clever way of telling me i shouldn't be playing in public for a reason.  or maybe it's just a trial to see how dedicated i am to it.

i suppose if i give it another shot next week i'll know which one it is.