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|EDUCATION: Bachelor of Science in Professional Writing from Kennesaw State University||BLOG: None provided|
|CERTIFICATIONS: Joel A. Katz Music and Entertainment Business Program||CURRICULUM VITAE: None provided|
ON FEELING STUCK AGAIN
Hello. I am writing to get out of this. I am feeling stuck again. I am stuck again. All I do is waste my time. I mean, clearly and obviously that’s an exaggeration at best and a lie in actuality, but I feel it more than whatever is actually true right now. I have all these things that I want to do. I want to be a musician so fucking badly. And I’m so much closer than I was but I’m still so far, you know? And it’s not a patience with the process or the universe or the timing of it that I lack, no – it’s a serious impatience and frustration with myself. Were I to couple my potential with serious and deliberate and consistent action of any kind I would have it by now. Though not necessarily rational and definitely not helpful, that is the existing belief. And I understand (not really, I guess) that there’s no way I could possibly guarantee that. And I’m more than willing to wait as long as it takes to get there. I’m lucky enough to get to have the job I’m going to have, I don’t need to push it by being an ungrateful little shit. It amazes me still that though I know with great certainty that this is my calling, I can still get so in my head about it. I know at the end of every day that I am pursuing the right vision. But it still freaks me out – just how long am I going to stall?
And of course, I start to wonder again if I’m destined to spiral so wildly all my life. Because my life really is better now – I have friends, and love interests, and city adventures, and a budding career – all the juicy elements to a worthwhile story. Things really are great so much of the time. But, as with all things, they also change so much – and at the start it can be overwhelming as fuck. The same old millennial tale that they disregard so deliberately and so ignorantly – we truly are the busiest fucking generation in so many ways that generations previously never would have had to think about let alone experience in every waking moment. Being connected to everyone all the time can be so, so overwhelming. I get so, so overwhelmed. And if that’s the case, if i’m destined to spiral, then there must be a reason.
Anyway, I’m so much closer than I was but I’m still so far. And I’m more than willing to put in the work, but I so often feel like I’m not putting in enough or doing it fast enough. I know I need that feeling, in a way – it motivates me to get shit done. It’s funny how that works sometimes – the things that bring us so much take so much as well. It’s that feeling that forces me into action, because once it gets too unbearable and I’ve wasted all my time and hope, once it gets just a little too dismal and I’ve tried every other way, I am forced into action- that sweet progression that eases all pain. It’s the feeling that forced my terrified ass out of the car and into the cold this past January. I was a 19 year old idiot sitting outside of a garage in East Atlanta, and I was scared shitless. I was about to walk into a house show filled with people I didn’t know, who were all cooler than me, who were all doing what I wanted to be doing and I was going to try to leave with… something. What exactly, I wasn’t sure, but I was desperate: I was desperate to feel like I was doing something. I gripped the wheel with my half gloved hands and then the ignition, ready to turn on Max (my cute Jeep Wrangler) and dip the hell out of there like I’d done so many times when faced with such uncomfortable internal dialogue. But I didn’t. No, actually, it wasn’t a choice like that: I couldn’t. I could not drive back to my suburban apartment empty handed and feeling like I’d wasted even more time that I didn’t have. I had to get something out of this, even if the only thing was the feeling of conquering (or attempting to) a fear.
Before I could think any more abysmal thoughts, I threw open my door and was then stumbling inside the heated garage. And it was uncomfortable, sure, but I was too distracted by trying to play the game I was now in to focus on those feelings. The stimuli was overwhelming, I actually did recognize a few faces, and I was already planning my first cigarette break, when I saw him: Logan Adams, of all people, one of my best friends. He was playing drums alongside the first act of the show that night, and I had had no idea and there he was. I knew somebody. I knew somebody! The rest of the night proved to be one of my most important to date. I was blown away by my first real taste of the Atlanta underground rock scene, I went up to the bands after their sets and began some of the most valuable business relationships I have to this day, and I even landed my band our first ever house gig (and third ever gig gig) a week later just from talking to one of the musicians. This one night has led to and continues to lead to invaluable opportunities for my band and I to this date. That one night singlehandedly catapulted me into what has been the most successful period of my young career (and life) to date, both through providing opportunities and the creation of a sort of blind and highly addicting courage. And I almost drove home.
And of course, that has me thinking: yes I was an inordinate amount of time, and yes I spiral into such lonely dark places, but those experiences are what catapult me into some of the best.
Being sick of feeling stuck has inspired me to do some crazy shit. And some important shit. Hell, the basis of almost all the things I create is really, in it’s purest form, that of escapism – from many things, but almost always from feeling stuck. So I guess i’ll take it.