Vice Verses: Making Art Out of the Tension | Jon Foreman

Last night around midnight, I was onstage playing tunes with a band called Fiction Family in a town called Hollywood. By 3:00am I was pulling into my hometown with an empty bag of corn nuts and a caffeinated beverage that once resembled coffee. By the time the sun was up I was in seat 20C on a Southwest flight from San Diego to Nashville. (That’s right, I only fly the classiest airlines. As a side-note, I am in no way endorsed by any airline, but I’m ready to talk). I was feeling pretty good but I must not have looked the part as my neighbor in 20A proceeds to tell me that I look like I haven’t slept in a couple weeks. I laugh it off and tell him I’ll sleep on the flight. When he finds out that I’m a musician he wonders aloud whether any of my songs are worth the bags under my eyes. He says it must be a hard road to travel, that I look like I’m stretched a little thin.

He’s right that I don’t get much sleep. And he’s right that I might have skipped a shower. Or two. Or three. But he’s wrong about the rest. I crunch down on a few delicious airline peanuts and tell 20A that I have the best job in the world. I do what I love. I love what I do. And I believe in what I do. He laughs, pulls the brim of his hat over his eyes says, “Well, good luck son. Hope you never lose that optimistic attitude.” Within a few minutes my friend is asleep against the window and I’m left wide-awake with my thoughts. Am I overly idealistic? Am I stretching myself too thin?

Read the rest of this article on the Huffington Post.

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