Sometimes a fantasy (Or how Bob Dylan got me through college)

Published August 17, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I do have a tendency to embellish and dramatize most events in my life. (Must be those credentials, diplomas and training making a stand.) That being said, I’m pretty sure that even an outsider would admit that I have been handed a life full of challenges that might cause a bit of fluster. (I’m not talking life handing you lemons. I’m talking a dump truck full of citrus up ending itself on you in your convertible.)

This flair for surviving the dramatic is not anything new. I have had many chaotic crises/opportunities track me down and give me a wallop with the crazy stick. I remember my last semester in college was particularly rough. Not only was my scholarship not renewed (Not my fault, federal funding dropped a lot of us smart minorities when we had to go beyond the usual four year mark. It was also not my fault that I didn’t finish in the four years. There was a required course for my major that wasn’t offered for three consecutive majors.  I was not thrilled about this and after many, many conferences with the Provost and my department head, where I was told more than once to stop fiddling with the pencils on the desk and to not touch the art, it was decreed that the requirement would be waived, I just had to take another upper level class: Directing.  I am the only theater major in Texas Wesleyan history to have graduated without having taken Shakespeare. )

Academics were kicking my ass, my family life was going through major upheaval, I was emotionally rescued on more than one occasion by someone I will call CWH, and there was some pretty major fallout from a terrible on again/off  for good again relationship. (I will call that guy Toy-Boy.)  Oh and I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life whilst still passing my chemistry class (That whole adventure is a story in itself.)

To keep my brain from completely unhinging, my madness found a method: I set a goal. I was going to be a back-up singer for Bob Dylan.

This makes perfect sense when you are an emotionally wrecked, tragically naive and mentally exhausted 22 year old.

I surrounded myself with the various forms of Bob Dylan. I went Freewheelin’ straight to the Nashville Skyline with some stopovers on the Train to the Travelling Wilburys.

I knew all of it and even had a song prepared to for my audition (the harmony part to the Everly Brothers’ “Dream” ) I planned my interview with Rolling Stone.

As nuts as all of this sounds, having that goal in mind kept me going. It kept me going to voice lessons and auditions. It kept me awake and sober enough to keep it together as I dragged myself through the last several weeks of school.

I’m trying to find another impossible to dream.

Anyone need a back-up singer?

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