Everyone has a story. Some feel compelled to share while others prefer to remain elusive. For me, it really depends on the day. But today, I want to share.

I am imperfect. Nothing but flaws. Too short. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough. My boobs are too small. My butt is too big. My smile is crooked. I have wrinkles around my eyes. I’m impatient. I’m a drama queen. I’m short tempered. I tend to cross the line. I say the wrong thing at the wrong time…

But if you consider all of those in a different light, it paints a different picture.

I am unique. Nothing but surprises. Small. Humble. Street smart. Proportionate. I have experience and wisdom. I am passionate. I am spirited. I push the boundaries. I speak my mind…

This picture is massively different from the other and I choose to believe it is more accurate. Every story has two sides and it’s up to you which side you choose.

In my story, the girl doesn’t always get the guy. She’s not a model citizen, an excellent daughter, an attentive wife or a doting mother. In fact, she’s not a mother at all. And she faces the harsh judgement of the world every day for making the decision not to be a mother.  But she’s strong enough to overcome because her mom and dad taught her that what others think of her is none of her business.

So I’m a daddy’s girl who wanted to join the band. In 4^th grade, he bought me a drum. And I played and played and played. I learned all of my dad’s music. The Eagles. The Beatles. Grand Funk Railroad. Jimmy Buffett. Queen. Iron Butterfly. Bob Seger. Anything he would let me listen to, I did and I learned to play it. When I got to high school, I thought I would be the coolest thing there was…. But I wasn’t. I was the girl who got pushed around by the boys because “girls shouldn’t play drums”.  Well, but, I’m GOOD at it! “No. Girls play the flute. NOT the drums”. I got kicked out of my high school band at the end of my sophomore year. Like KICKED OUT. I’m a straight-A, Type-A, perfectionist kid whose band director told her she wasn’t good enough because she didn’t have a penis.

Some people said to quit but that’s not in my nature. Music is who and what I am. It’s the language I speak better than any other. So I practiced and practiced some more, until I was ready to audition for the performing arts high school. I crushed it and I got in. Not only did I have to play the drums, but I also had to pass the academic test. You had to be smart AND talented. And I was! Take that, douchebag! I don’t need you holding me back… I graduated and went on a journey around Europe with an orchestra and a choir… playing the drums.

I went on to be accepted into one of the most prestigious percussion programs in the world – The Juilliard School of Music in Manhattan. The experience changed my perspective and my dreams. I completed the session and came back home, only to do an exchange program the next year to go study jazz music. Again, it changed my perspective. And 9/11 happened. And I turned 21. And I learned to line dance in the parking lot of a Texaco in Dallas on my 21^st birthday. Then I went on tour with a Latin jazz band in Brazil. I learned to play the steel drums and brought all of my dad’s favorite Jimmy Buffett songs to life. There was nothing that could take that spirit away or hold it back.

As happens to most of us, life got in the way. Jobs, bills, mortgages, etc… I woke up one day in a job I hated, so I resigned. Two days later my house burned down. I woke up to black smoke climbing the stairway to the second level of the house I had purchased all by myself only two years earlier at the tender age of 24. I had a 90-pound pit bull who was not going to survive the fall if we jumped out the second-story window, so I picked him up and ran through the flames to get out of the house. And there I stood, in the freezing rain and sleet and snow, watching my house burn to the ground, wondering what was next.

I moved to Nashville. It was where my heart had always been, so I just left. It wasn’t exactly a picnic to make that move, but it worked out ok. It taught me a lot about myself and what I could endure. I bought another house and 6 months later lost my job to a RIF at my company. So I worked three jobs to make the ends meet. I lost my daddy 6 days before my wedding and had to walk down the aisle without him. It crushed me. But my family was there to hold me up. So I traveled more and learned more about the world. Italy. Germany. Austria. England. Switzerland. Aruba. Barbados. Brazil. Martinique. Australia. Puerto Rico. Mexico. Belize. Egypt. Ireland. And almost every state in our beautiful country here at home.

What did I learn?

I learned that the world is a captivating place full of amazing people who are not as different from me as the world would have me believe. Musicians say music is the universal language and it truly is. I don’t have to speak someone’s native tongue to be able to communicate my thoughts or emotions flawlessly. They understand through music. Melodies, harmonies and rhythms are the things that create life. And without them, life tends to be much more bleak. Stale. Unkind.

So this blog is my story in photos and words. But the real story is in the music, so make sure to always stop and listen to the music. ❤

<3, JB