When I first moved to Nashville, it seemed like everytime I turned around I was in a situation that made me pinch myself. Like riding in a limosine. Or sitting in a guitar pull with hit songwriters. Or playing a song for Kris Kristofferson. Or getting to hang in a studio for the first time. Or cutting some guy in an SUV off in the Maggie Moos parking lot and it turned out to be Keith Urban. I can name a million examples, ranging from the most simple to the most acutely unique, where that internal voice said, "did that just happen?" or "wow" or "how did I get here?"
That's the voice that over the years has faded from a childlike scream to a distant whisper to a dull nothing. As my years in this town become more numbered and my pages become more full, the easily excitable girl turns into a more jaded woman. One who often takes for granted the overwhelming abundance of priceless experiences that come my way.
But tonight was an exception. I guess the scene was way too fantastic and the music was far too good and the company was far too bizarre to take for granted (I'm not naming names). And any fool would've looked around the room we all stood in and sang in and drank in and thought "how did I get here?"
Moral of the story: my life does not suck.
Second moral of the story: look around.
Most important moral of the story: I don't deserve any of this.
P.S. Happy Birthday Chris Tompkins, the most inappropriate person I've ever met in my life. We love you for that. :)
oh yes...almost killing keith urban in your old sedan. that was a highlight. i mean...only 'cause he said my name that night!
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