Hey, Austin. rushmore beekeepers is coming to you at some point in the near future. That is, moving there next week.
Being in transition is rarely easy, even when the change is good. I’ll probably always feel somewhat restless; maybe that’s just one of those things that goes along with being a songwriter. It’s probably my neurotic and borderline OCD nature, but I like feeling settled. I like having my musical instruments out and ready to play; I like being able to make plans a month in advance, although I’d usually rather just stay home. (This could transition to amazing music overload really fast, especially in a place like Austin.)
I’m ready for a change. Las Vegas is a great place in a lot of ways, but I’ve been ready to leave for the better part of the last few years. Musically speaking, my favorite thing about Vegas is its proximity to San Diego, CA and Cedar City, UT (although I do not take advantage of that nearly as much as I should). I have some amazingly loyal and fantastic supporters here, some who have become great friends, but I can’t honestly say rushmore beekeepers has ever fit in with the local music scene. Some of my friends/fans are excited about my upcoming move – not because they want to get rid of me (at least I hope they don’t), but because they sincerely believe it will be great for my music.
How do people find a place they call home? How do you decide where you are going to live? Are these dumb questions? It seems like such a monumental decision, and some people just seem to know. There are so many fantastic places in this country, in the world. There was a point in my life I wasn’t sure I’d ever live anywhere outside of Las Cruces, NM, but now I feel like I’m on a quest for the perfect place or a way to be constantly exploring.
Back when Carrie and I were trying to decide whether to move to Austin, knowing that it meant leaving a fairly comfortable and secure life for an uncertain future, I stood precariously balanced on our couch and gave some (probably crazy-sounding) speech about how you can’t be afraid of the unknown or stay somewhere just because it’s comfortable, secure, and familiar. (I’m paraphrasing myself; I was being spontaneous.) I was telling this to myself just as much as to her.
As much work as it is for me to mentally prepare for meeting new people, doing new things, driving in an unfamiliar place, and the rest of the changes that come with relocation, I am constantly and painfully aware that I could get stuck in a rut and easily stay there for the rest of my life.
Don’t get me wrong. If I find the right porch to sit on, I will sit on that porch for a thousand years.
Here’s a song I wrote in Austin, about Austin, possibly over-romanticizing Austin:
