Back When I had Money
Lifestyles of the Broke and Marginally Famous- (This is just the preface, or prologue or whatever that shit is called. Feel free to skip past it if you’d like).
I’m not broke. It just rolled off the common tongue so well, I had to say it. Don’t get me wrong. By general celebrity standards, I’m homeless. But after 3 years of escaping “show biz” via San Diego surfboard, I’ve learned that I like myself. I generally dig who I am now. “Cait, its like...you’re back”! My sister said last year. I spent about 13 years at stage right, backing up stars like Taylor Swift and Ringo Starr. I spent that decade chasing the accolades, the recognition, the fame and fortune. And in that 13 years here’s what I’ve learned. There is a God. I was lucky enough to see up close, what it takes to be on top, and more importantly, stay on top and I just don’t have it. I mean, the tough tough tough personal and professional moral dilemas the face on a daily basis to remain relevant and marketable, (oh and rich and famous), I am just not built for. I am so thankful that prayer was never answered. At least in the way I wished, hoped, even forcefully demanded it would be. I realize God isn’t too susceptible to bullying, what with the recent anti-bullying movement and all.
Anyway, life- I mean the “ordinary” came at me and sucker punched me in the stomach when I left the touring and music scene. “wow, a job? Like a real job? Where I get up early and punch in for 8 hours to receive an emasculated amount of legal funds to pay for food and a roof over my head? Like, OMG, I mean like WTF”.
“How much do you get paid for cleaning houses”, I asked my sister. She was saving for her daughter’s braces. “25 bucks an hour”, she said. “That’s bullshit”! I snapped at no one in particular. I will never forget the look on her face. My family didn’t have to be patient and kind with me, as the years turning me into a real entitled asshole, but they were. And once I stepped outta the pseudo-spotlight, 99% of my music “buddies” were out too. I wallowed in my room (and I do mean the room I grew up in, nestled in the mountains of Northwest Washington state). My parent’s house. “I’m 35 years old, single, unemployed and living with my parents!! I’ll have to go back to Starbucks”! (Oh, by the way, when I was paying my 7 year dues in Nashville on Broadway, my day job was the good ol’ green apron. And I loved that damn job).
In my delusional little and at the time, this made sense to me: “well, I might as well just never pick up my violin or sing again. I’ve done all I can do with it. The world I left behind is all I know how to do, or that I am worth. I have no purpose left on this earth”. Ps, never been a drama queen at all. Never. I remember staring at my sister, wide eyed, “You mean, you don’t think any less of me if I can’t pick up the tab tonight, or wear this civilian clothing? Now that I can’t get you all tickets to the hot shows”? She just looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears.
Through our chosen perspective, we create ou own reality. Our own truth. That is what I have learned these last few yeas. With all that in mind (and so much more that I have not the time or BUDGET to continue), These are some brief but painfully honest little stories about this “ordinary” life I have made for myself here. The contrast. The parallel universes between my past and present. Just a few memories of BACK WHEN I HAD MONEY. .....