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mockingbird:
Did you always know you wanted to be a musician?
eastcoleman:
No. As a kid I wanted to be a fireman.
mockingbird:
Sweet. Then how did you figure out that music was right for you?
eastcoleman:
I don’t know. At some point I just figured it out.
I think it was one of those days that I couldn’t play because we were on some family outing.
Don’t ask me where, probably some relative’s birthday party.
I was at a point when every day that I didn’t play or write songs felt wrong, somehow incomplete.
It felt like something important was missing.
mockingbird:
Sounds like it was really the right thing for you.
eastcoleman:
I can’t imagine it any other way.
mockingbird:
What about your parents? What did they say about you wanting to be a rock star?
eastcoleman:
Mom dealt with it better than Dad. She would have preferred that I study music and become a music teacher instead of performing myself, but she understood. Dad wanted me to teach just so I’d have a secure job to fall back on, but yeah . . . In the end I had to make myself happy, not them.
mockingbird:
So teaching was never an option for you?
eastcoleman:
No, never. I didn’t want to watch others living my dream, just because I wasn’t brave enough to take the risk that it wouldn’t work.
mockingbird:
I get it. That’s admirable.
eastcoleman:
What about you, Birdy? What do you want?
mockingbird:
If I only knew. I really don’t have the slightest idea. My friends all know what they want to do, and they’re all looking forward to college. I just sit here and don’t know what to do with my life.
eastcoleman:
You’ll figure it out.
mockingbird:
Everyone says that, all the time. But what if I don’t? What if I never know what I want?
eastcoleman:
That won’t happen.
mockingbird:
How can you be so sure?
eastcoleman:
Because I know you, Birdy.
mockingbird:
Somehow that’s not very helpful.
eastcoleman:
Then I’ll tell you something that is: Listen to your heart. I think you know what you want, but you just don’t dare to admit it.
mockingbird:
I hate you.
eastcoleman:
Liar. Why are you afraid to say it?
mockingbird:
Because I’ll never be good enough.
eastcoleman:
Who says?
mockingbird:
Me.
eastcoleman:
Stop standing in your own way. What do you want? Tell me. I won’t tell a soul.
mockingbird:
Music. I always wanted to be a musician.
eastcoleman:
Then trust yourself.
mockingbird:
I’ll still never be good enough.
eastcoleman:
Yes, you will. I believe it.