So I’ve tried to get this off the ground a few times, this “starting a blog” thing. The last time I got anywhere with it was this time last year. I had been working a marketing/communications job at an investment job and realized that nothing I was writing sounded like me. It’s hard to be sassy or sarcastic when you’re writing about mutual funds. My life felt creativity confined within a very small box and I was left feeling very stifled.

To keep my creative brain cells from slowly withering, I made the decision to start writing about topics I wanted to in my free time. A work colleague at the time gave me the wise advice that if I wanted to expand my horizons past the enthralling world of stocks and bonds, I should write about something that is already intrinsic to my life. “Think about what you spend the most money on, outside of rent and groceries, and write about that,” he said. The answer was easy: live music.

Every obsession starts somewhere. For me, I’m told, my love for live music started in 1987 when as a toddler my parents took me to a live Everly Brother’s performance. Even now that doesn’t surprise me. If you want to put me in a good mood, let me hear the first few chords of, “When Will I Be Loved?” It’s in my blood.

I was raised on a steady stream of eclectic music that I believe was due in large part to being the child of two hippy parents – my mom of who would always break out into spontaneous dance while washing the dishes to Roy Orbison; my dad, a University DJ and the drummer of what I hear was your average terrible University band The Lotus Eaters. A musically talented family we are not, but appreciators of the art form? Hell yes.

So I started a blog paying homage to live bands and to Toronto, a city full of unrelenting musical talent.

And then, because life is never one to avoid giving you a firm kick in the balls, one month into embarking into the blogosphere I was hit with an income tax bill comparable to a year-long colonoscopy. I was immediately resigned to working seven days a week to get myself out of the deeply dug hole the Canadian Government had dug for me.

I zombied my way through 2014; all signs of creativity were back shelved. Operating with the knowledge that I was at times working 15 days straight, the idea of setting out at 10pm on a Tuesday to see a band play became torturous rather than enjoyable.

If you think this is a completely impossible routine to sustain, and that 7 months of expending energy only outward and leaving no time for myself might cause me to spontaneously combust into a grey cloud of girlish tears, you’re not wrong.

October 2014 brought the the inevitable crack; the epic breakdown now known simply as: The Peanut Lime Vinaigrette Reckoning.

And because I’m only one blog post in and already a smug writer, I am going to leave that long-winded tale for the next entry. Cue overly dramatic black and white mystery film music. Dum dum dummmmmmm….

OK YOU DON’T CARE I GET IT….

….please keep reading?