I’m sure there is something exciting going on tonight: a gig or a party or a social gathering of some sorts. Now don’t get me wrong, I like exciting things. But tonight, I am not participating in any.
You see, a lot of people think I live a rock and roll lifestyle. This is partly due to the fact that I have been known, on occasion, to travel around the country reviewing gigs and festivals. Hell, I even run a music reviews website with my friend. I have tales of drunken nights out, and crazy friends. But then maybe you have to be crazy to be friends with me?
No, as much as I love – and occasionally live – rock and roll, I don’t see myself as a hell-raiser (although I have it on good authority that my beard has the capability of scaring small children). This was brought home to me by a conversation I am having on MSN with a friend and fellow writer, someone I can always turn to if I’m struggling to find that elusive word, or if I just fancy an amusing chat (possibly about cold noodles being ‘cool’ or swans being ‘rapey’).
As she typed, she was sitting with a glass of wine in hand, brainstorming ideas on possible articles she could pitch to a website owner. At the exact same time, I was sat at my computer typing back at her, sipping on a glass of milk and looking at books about tying knots on Amazon. (And for your information I am a Scout leader and not some sort of kinky pervert, thankyouverymuch.)
And this was when I realised just how anti-rock and roll my rock and roll lifestyle is. But , to paraphrase that old rocker Shakespeare, therein lies the rub: I’d rather be me than anyone else. Maybe the spirit of rebellion and ‘sticking it to the man’ exists within my glass of milk; sticking the finger up to the stereotypical preconceptions of a music-obsessed teenager. Perhaps.
My supervisor once called described me to someone as being ‘like a computer nerd, but cool’. And I’ll be quite happy if people think that of me for the rest of my life.
Oh, and for those of you that were wondering: semi-skimmed.