So, quick question — how does a person accidentally end up working with a band they genuinely admire? Because I didn’t have a five-year plan. I didn’t have a vision board. I didn’t even have a plan plan. What I had… was a lifelong love of music, a lot of curiosity, and just enough bad decision-making to say yes to things before I fully understood them. And somehow — somehow — that’s how I ended up working with the JJ Hawk Band. Now, to be clear, this is my second job. My first job lives in the hotel business — retention, loyalty, the very adult world of spreadsheets, strategy, and making sure the lights stay on. That job brings home the bread and butter. It pays the bills. It’s responsible. It’s necessary. And I’m genuinely good at it. But this? This is the part of my life that brings fun. Excitement. Joy. I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember. Not in a “I play three instruments and knew my destiny at age six” kind of way. More like… music was always the thing that made life make sense when everything else felt slightly off-key. Music was there for the highs, the lows, the what am I doing with my life phases — and trust me, there were several. At some point, adulthood shows up and says, “Okay, fun’s over. Pick something practical.” And I listened. For a while. I did the responsible thing. I did the normal thing. I did the thing that looks good on paper but doesn’t exactly light you up inside. And then — surprise — I realized I missed joy. Not success. Not status. Joy. Music kept tapping me on the shoulder like, “Hey. I’m still here. Remember me?” And eventually I stopped ignoring it. Working with the JJ Hawk Band didn’t happen because I was the most qualified person in the room. It happened because I showed up, I cared, and I genuinely love what they create. Also, let’s be honest — timing and luck deserve a producer credit here. But what it’s really given me is something I didn’t know I needed: a second chance to do something fun, something creative, something that actually feels meaningful. Not everyone gets that. Not everyone realizes they’re allowed to want that. So yeah — I get to work with musicians I respect, be around music that moves me, and spend my time doing something that doesn’t feel like I’m watching the clock until the day’s over. That feels wildly luxurious in a way that has nothing to do with money. If you’re listening to this and thinking, “Well, must be nice,” — I get it. I really do. Because trust me, this didn’t come from having it all figured out. It came from staying curious, staying open, and occasionally saying yes while quietly thinking, “This is either going to be amazing… or a very good story later.” And sure, I still have my day job. I still live in the world of retention metrics and hotel loyalty programs by day — where excitement means a really strong quarter and a well-worded email. Then somehow, I cross over into this other life — where the soundtrack is louder, the hours are stranger, and the joy-to-spreadsheet ratio is way better. Music gave me a second chance to remember that fun isn’t irresponsible. That excitement isn’t childish. And that doing something just because it lights you up is actually a pretty solid life choice. So yeah — I didn’t quit everything and run away on tour. I just made room. Room for creativity. Room for joy. Room for something that reminds me why I loved music in the first place. And honestly? I’m having way more fun this time. And if this is what a “second act” looks like — working with the JJ Hawk Band, surrounded by music, meaning, and just the right amount of chaos — then I’ll take it. Because if you’re lucky, life gives you one good groove. And if you’re really lucky… you get to drop the needle again. “Thanks for listening, thanks for being here, and thanks for not fast-forwarding. From all of us here, love to everyone, and until next time… keep the music loud and your second acts even louder.”
