"Why I Write"

It's been a progress not perfection weekend over here and that's a very good thing.

On Saturday, an old friend of mine was in town playing a gig and I went out to see him. I was feeling a little un-centered heading out there. The last time I'd seen him play was at that same spot, but I'd gone to see him there with my ex-girlfriend. When I got to the gig, the cover was really high. I paid it, though, and went in. Inside, I saw my friend, gave him a CD that I'd been needing to get to him, and began to reckon with a feeling that had been brewing inside: I really didn't want to be there at all. So I bailed. If I'd been more on the ball, maybe I would have been able to stop when I found out how bad the cover was, and just gone inside to give him the CD. Or maybe if I was more spiritually advanced, I would have been able to let go enough to say to myself, "welp, that sure was a lot of money, but I paid it and I'm here so I might as well enjoy the show." Neither of those happened, but oh well. My main goal that night was to get the CD to him, and I did that, so I'm going to laugh at myself a little, cry a little, and move on.

Yesterday, I drove down to San Francisco to see another old friend. She just got accepted into graduate school and threw a party to celebrate. I got there early and gave her a hand getting ready. At the party, I ate some good BBQ, met and talked with the other guests. I was there for several hours. Not bad for someone who used to not go to parties and, when I did, could only interact with other people if I was stoned out of my mind. After I left, I went across the SF bay to Oakland and spent a little time with my sponsor.

I did some music work this weekend, too. I'm getting frustrated with one of the projects I'm working on. It's a hip-hop album and I was listening back to the beats I've come up with so far. Some of them are really good, some are terrible. They sound to me like some white guy who don't know nothin about hip-hop trying to write beats. Which, strangely enough, isn't far from the truth. I've listened to hip-hop over the years, I played in a hop-hop band, but I've never been into it the way some of my friends have. I was seriously tripping at one point, but instead of just saying, "fuck it", I went back and started reworking what I'd written. I listened to a lot of tracks from the genre, got the feel & the groove into my creative flow, and overhauled what I'd already done. I still have a lot of work to do, but the tracks are sounding better.

It feels silly sometimes to write about this stuff (especially the music), but this blog isn't my bullshit space; it's where I let out the truth about what's really going on inside. I think men especially are discouraged from admitting their true feelings--especially fears, so writing here is good practice for me. Holding stuff inside isn't good for me. It gets me into all kinds of trouble, breeds resentment. Writing helps me to get stuff off my chest, helps me to check in with myself, and to work out what's going on.

The thing with my friend's gig is about insecurity and self-pity--I feel sorry for myself that I can't command a high price at gigs, that I'm not very good at self-promotion, that for all my talent my music hasn't taken me anywhere. Going to my friend's house yesterday is about overcoming fears, and the fact that I did go and I continue to get better at being around people I don’t know is progress I need to be aware of and congratulate myself on. The fears about working on the hip-hop album are more of the pity and insecurity, but I can give myself a break there, too, and recognize that I’m not giving up, I’m doing the work and overcoming my fears. They used to keep me paralyzed.

And writing here in this blog, letting others know what I go through, is a way to pass on the message. We all have fears, we all have issues we need to work on. I suppose there are people out there who read all this and laugh. To those who are feeling smug and superior, I congratulate you on your judgmental selves. How nice it must be for you to be perfect and have all the mysteries of life worked out. The rest of us mere mortals are over here, doing what we can, taking baby steps, to try and do better. It's for folks like me that I write--people who are in touch with their fears and their failings, who are trying to do better. I want you all to know, because it's what I need reminding of more than anything else:

You are not alone.