"I feel drunk, even though I'm sober.
I'm young and I'm underpaid.
I'm tired - but, still working..."
That's my life spelt with one hand in my pocket...
That's just a small part of it, though.
It's hard to be certain about life -- especially when you go through so many moods and moments.
This is just one mood; of all those other moments...
I started running around recently… Again! In the race of life, I am just a sprinter. It's all short-distance for me. I don't want to go for marathons and 800m.
100m is good enough. Tiring, yet short.
I just got off working for another event last night. The 12 hour meal plans, 18 hour shifts, deafening sound-checks, and aching body parts -- all of it for a few measly quarters, another (unwanted) sun-tan, and the all mighty All Access tag.
If you’d ask me, I couldn't tell you why I even consider it.
My job never gets too difficult, though. I just never really care about how the event turns out. Even in a team, I seem to work in isolation. I m not a key stakeholder, I invest nothing – just a few work hours, which I usually have an excess of anyway.
During the event, I'd just roam about, with the commanding All Access or Coordinator tag around my neck. Suddenly the big 6’8 security guards are respectful, the general public makes hopeful requests, and no barrier is applicable to the bearer. I could walk into the "Danger – High Voltage" signs and not be stopped. I’ll die – but, I won’t be stopped.
Being at an event is almost as good as being a Buddha, though. In a crowd, it becomes easier to notice your existence – if you’re not too distracted, of course. That’s the crucial point, when you’re with yourself. VIP, Premium, Regular, Ushers, Security, Back Stage, All Access – it means nothing. Nothing feels big enough. Everyone becomes an ant – slave ants (fans), solider ants (event team), or the queen (performers), they all look the same.
I now remember, standing outside my Dad’s shop with a can of Pepsi in my hand. I was 4 - I’d spill some Pepsi on the floor and wait...
A few minutes would pass, till you’d notice a bunch of ants attracted to the evaporating sugary substance on the floor. That's around the time I'd re-enter and jump on each and every one. Then, I’d spill some more, and back off. Another new bunch would come in, and, without wondering what happened to these dead ants around, they’d decide to sit back and enjoy the sugar – when suddenly, BANG!
As cruel as that sounds – I was 4! We all start as natural, raw animals – from where we become social monsters down the line. We first crushed ants… Now we crush each other.
ps - This post has been edited and cut short for "moody reasons". However, I feel obligated to pass on the link of the original piece by Cameron Crowe -- The Back Stage Pass.
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