Dear world, my mind is a little scattered today as I write this letter.
I'm waiting for my friends to arrive at Dockweiler Beach where we planned to have a bonfire. We thought if we got here around 4:30, it would be more than enough time before sundown to secure one of the fire pits, but we couldn't have been more wrong.
I was the first to get here, and after sitting in an hour of cortisol-inducing traffic just to turn into the parking lot, I plopped on a towel with this notebook and my guitar.
*Just at the end of that sentence, all of my friends arrived at once*
Admittedly, I was not in the best of sorts while I was waiting on the crew. The anxiety of planning the whole thing got to me, and the unexpected traffic fiasco really got my heart racing. But I knew, I did know, that once everyone got there, it would be a damn good time.
Lo and behold, I was right.
The event couldn't have possibly gone better. Friends from all different groups meshed seamlessly, and everyone found their way to the pit for revolving pockets of conversation.
That's the nice thing about hanging out with a group of artists; The conversations are riveting and effortlessly entertaining, big personalities and sensitive souls fused together for a delightful energetic exchange. I am feeling so grateful to have relationships with quality people who make me feel loved and seen.
Sometimes I wonder if that's what being a musician is all about–– cultivating that community among a fanbase through messages and energetic presence. Which begs the burning question (pun intended): What is the bleed/crossover between friends and fans?
Especially in the earlier stages of a music career, when my friends are the majority of my ticket sales, it's getting harder to feel like the two are separate enterprises. I'm wondering if maybe they are, in fact, one in the same.
Because of course, my true friends are my fans. And not in an "I'm better than them" way but simply in a "they're proud of me" way. And maybe my fans are just friends I haven't met yet. Frankly, I think my performances would go off a lot better if I treated everyone in the crowd with the same love and comfort as if I knew them personally.
Anyway, I'm home now, waiting for an oreo milkshake I ordered on Uber Eats. Despite a thorough shower, my hair still reeks of bonfire smoke, but I'm glad to be at least somewhat clean. I'm excited for a cozy night of rest and a busy day ahead.
Ttyt,
Hannah