A Shameless Self Plug

I was rereading some of my old journals last night, which is always enlightening.

Aside from all of the "Oh my God, Chad is so hot" and "Oh my God, I hate my hair" entries, I found a snippet of foreshadowing from 1999:

I hate being a waitress. I think I need to become a sexy, folk chick. I guess that means I'll have to learn how to be sexy and/or play guitar.

Shortly thereafter, my folks bought me a guitar and I commenced learning the versatile G chord, as well as how to use my cleavage to its best advantage.

Still, I think it's funny that, at age 19, with no exhibited musical ability and never having sung outside of the shower, I simply decided I was going to be some saucy singer/songwriter. Sure, why not?

Well, there's one reason.

Despite what you may believe, I am inherently secretive with my thoughts and feelings, such as the thoughts and feelings one might need to share whilst writing a song. So, for many years, I did not share. Not at all. Not one tiny bit.

A lot of my nearest and dearest were surprised to learn that I even played guitar.

But I got brave a few years ago and answered an ad for a female singer/songwriter, which led to a partnership with a super talented guitar dude. But then he sort of fell for me and I was in no danger of falling back, and things went south real quick, but not before we took third in a regional singer/songwriter contest.

There was also the time I got brave and entered a local singer/songwriter contest but had no idea that it was being judged by a panel of very Christian judges. A good 103% of my songs have a nod to whiskey and at least 79% mention one-night stands. Whoops.

I walked away with fourth place out of 40 and the weirdest compliment I have received to date: "You have such a beautiful voice … You could win so many people to the Lord if you just sang the right songs."

Since then, being an adult has sort of gotten in the way of my folk-and-roll ambitions, but, while it's taken me a lot of time, I can finally admit, "Yes, I write songs that I sing," without shrieking and running away, hands flailing.

In fact, for all of you D.C. locals, I will be practicing some not shrieking and running away this Sunday, Dec. 9, around 10 p.m. at Arlington's Four Courts for an acoustic "battle" of the bands.

It's just a simple two-song set (10 minutes), with the winner securing a spot to perform at a longer set during the local St. Patty's day celebration, but to me, scaredy-cat supreme, those 10 minutes on stage have consumed my mind for weeks now.

So, come on out on Sunday to see my knees knocking and me knocking back the drinks—I'll be there to enjoy the whole showcase from 8 p.m. onward but, again, I'll be going on around 10-ish.

My dear Justin P. says real artists are never truly comfortable with their creations and will always second-guess themselves, but if you are called to be an artist, the drive to share will overpower the fear. Let's hope so, or else it's going to be a long 10 minutes up there.

In the Comments section, tell me what you have trouble sharing. Go 'head. It's okay.

Oh yeah. I'm also on MySpace and stuff.