The Thrill of the Gig

The past has a peculiar knack for weaving into the fabric of the present, the threads of old habits tangling with fresh aspirations. As I navigated the labyrinthine streets of Bushwick, the neighborhood where I had spent much of my formative years and not-so-glorious adulthood, a certain nostalgic haze veiled my sight. My career had been a chaotic symphony, a cacophony of gigs, disjointed yet connected by the underlying rhythm of my relentless drive. A misfit in the traditional world of 9 to 5, I always found my rhythm in the unchained realm of freelance, the irregularity of the 1099 work, and the unexpected opportunities that pushed me into roles that excited, scared, and ultimately, defined me. I was a freelancer, a self-made maestro orchestrating my own life’s score. The dawn of the next few days promised another gig, another adventure. FirstLive, the company that had often been my savior, was my patron once more. It wasn’t just about the money, although the substantial paycheck that followed each event never failed to send a rush of satisfaction. It was the thrill of running live productions, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I navigated the electrifying unpredictability of big-budget events. Yet, it was also therapeutic, like standing in the eye of a storm, the world spinning around me while I stood firm, calm. Even as the joy of imminent work exhilarated me, the familiar streets of Bushwick brought back memories of a darker time. Corner stores, once a refuge for my alcohol-addled mind, now stared back at me, reminders of an era I had long left behind. Those tall icy cans of beer, once a balm to my internal turmoil, were now symbols of a past life, a version of me I had vowed never to revisit. Being sober felt like being reborn. It was as if the grime of my past had been wiped clean, leaving behind a canvas of infinite possibilities. The hard-earned money I made, once squandered in the throes of intoxication, now had a purpose: spoiling my family, and rewarding myself. Every gig, every paycheck, now felt like a small victory in the grand battlefield of life. They were milestones that marked not just financial achievement, but also the journey from a life of numbing addictions to one of clarity and purpose. The ultimate goal wasn’t just about making more money and working less, it was about experiencing the true joy of living. Each moment, each gig, and each dollar earned was now a testament to my resilience, a symbol of my rebirth, a piece in the grand puzzle of my life.