All that Glitters
My husband works in the music racket. It’s prestigious, or some would think, but a word to those who would fall in love with someone in this god-forsaken profession: the poor guy has worked 18 hour days in a dark room every day for the last seven weeks without a day off. I haven’t seen him except when I visited him in New York the entire time we’ve known about the bun. During that visit, I saw him when he slept. Our personal time together was when I walked him to work in the morning.
Another friend of mine just found out he was going on tour, for possibly a year or more, tomorrow. He will be leaving his girlfriend, his cats, and his mother who just moved here to be closer to him. He found this out on Thursday. How do you emotionally prepare for that in under a week? His girlfriend just smiles and soldiers on, but she may not see him for more than a few weeks in the next year. Another friend just met the love of his life, and has spent all of two weeks with her since he met her, over seven or eight months ago. Another just left his one-year-old son for months, and is in counseling because of the strain.
The benefits are there, somewhere, but I gotta say, they seem pretty insignificant compared to a lot of the sacrifices. Or maybe I’m just cranky because I’m getting fat and ill and my husband isn’t here to crack jokes about it.
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