The excitement never ends

Today I got to thinking about excitement. Little Man goes to school today for the first time – Kindergarten, that is. He was excited and nervous and all sorts of worked up. When was the last time I felt those butterflies? I can pinpoint several occasions in recent memory.

To start with, one that isn’t about writing is about the convention I mentioned in my earlier post from today. I had several opportunities to take photographs with my favorite actors, and I’d been planning these for months. In one, I asked the incredible. I asked the actor to grab my jacket and give me “sexy bedroom eyes.” I still can’t believe I did it. I was so nervous that I felt sick, and I was sure he’d say no. He didn’t. In fact, he happily obliged me and sent me on my way. (These photo shoots are incredibly short, as is true for most conventions; you only get a few seconds of time to explain what you want and have the photo taken.) My entire body felt flushed and full of nerves. Another photo, another request, a different actor (well, a pair of them). I asked to let me and Pet “fight” over the one we both prefer, while the other looked on with jealousy. They performed beautifully. We were both almost ill over the whole thing. Later, I asked for a simple hug photo from the same actor. That was probably the most peaceful one, because I’d met him before and I wasn’t as nervous.

Another story from the trip we took. While we stood outside the venue to meet my favorite musician, I paced, bit my nails, and chewed my lip nervously. When finally he came out to say hello, my stomach did flips. I’ve met him several times before (my guess is five or six, without taking the time to count), but I was still nervous. This time I wanted to show him a tattoo that consisted of his band logo and my favorite lyric. I was terrified that he’d be taken aback or find it weird somehow. He was gracious and kind, and told me he thought it was “rad,” for which I’ll be forever grateful. We hugged and took a photo, and I got his autograph. It was lovely, and serene, despite my nerves. This was less rushed than the convention would be, because it wasn’t any official meet and greet, just a singer saying hi to his grateful fans after a show.

On a personal note, Pet and I have some big changes coming up soon, and those make me very excited. All will be revealed in due time, though.

And writing related – the last time I felt writing excitement. I believe it was the last time I had a story accepted to MLR Books. MLR has taken on three of my stories so far, and they’ve loved every one of them. My upcoming short book from MLR is called Another Shot and it’s about a man and his ex-boyfriend finding love again. The ex just so happens to be a stripper.

What have you gotten excited about lately?

Challenge #5 – A letter

Today’s challenge is to write a letter to anybody. I could take the easy way out and write a letter to someone in my life, something I could make quippy and lighthearted and easygoing, but instead, I’m going to write a letter to a musician who has really changed my life for the better.

Dear Tyler,

I want to thank you. We’ve met on a few occasions, which I’m sure were at best a blur of faces, photos, and autographs for you, and not particularly memorable. That’s why I want to take the time to thank you in writing. I wanted to tell you my story, so that you know that you’re making a difference, not just writing pop music.

Two years ago, I saw you perform live for the first time. I had never heard of your band before I bought my ticket to the show – you were the opening act – but I listened to everything I could get my hands on to prepare myself for the concert. I fell in love with your music. It felt right, deep down in my soul, down to my bones, like what I’d been looking for all my life, if I’d known that something was missing. Your performance was fantastic. Your band is so strong at a live show, and I’m so glad I got to experience it that night.

The following summer, things started to change for me. I listened to your music near exclusively, and I found that every song spoke to me in some way. I started to feel like there were parts of me that I needed to change, to be true to myself. And then, I fell in love. It was a revelation. It, too, felt right, deep down to my core. There had always been this part of me that I’d hidden from (so many parts of me that I’d hidden, really), and when I fell in love, this part of myself refused to hide any longer. The hang up was that I was married – and I had fallen in love with a woman. I got lucky. My husband slowly accepted that I wanted to be with this woman, and her husband did the same. They allowed us to explore our feelings for each other in a safe space, and it was beautiful. During this time, I listened to several of your songs on repeat, and they helped calm my mind and my soul. They helped me sort through what I was experiencing. I started quoting the songs prolifically. I came out as polyamorous and bisexual to my family and friends. I felt alive.

Then things fell apart. The relationship ended, and I was heartbroken. Again, your music was there for me. Songs that helped me move past the breakup, feel my heartache in a way I needed to, and walk forward.

Over the next few months, your songs continued to be the background music in my busy life. I met another woman, and we began dating. Life was good. Then, you released another album. You came out as gay. (I was so happy for you.) I managed to get last minute tickets to see you perform in a far-away city, and I drove many hours  on short notice to see your 45 minute set. It was one of the transformative moments in my life. I felt free, I felt strong, I felt as though I could do anything. I stayed after your set ended, and I met you. God bless you, you gave me a hug, even though you were exhausted and trying desperately to leave the venue.

Your tour to celebrate the new album took me to many new cities to watch you perform, and I met and spoke with you many times after, always carefully choosing my words. The nerves never went away. Your new album was the soundtrack of my independence, my adulthood, my coming-of-age.

You’ve changed everything, and I’ll never forget that. You helped me accept who I am and come out to myself, my family, and my friends. I thank you for all you’ve done, and what I’ve become.


Riley Long