Variation

Once upon a time my college adviser slipped me a piece of paper (along with a gold space pen) that had “vow to write something every day” written on it. It’s pretty easy to say for me now that I have failed to live up to my end of the bargain. I went back to school to join a dying industry in the middle of the worst economic downturn since my nearly 80-year-old grandfather wore short pants. I am learning a skill few have an appreciation for. What is worse, that appreciation is evaporated because of a severe lack of trust and apathy in the world of know-it-all types.

Most days I feel like the oldest student of a game which is in the waning minutes. But there is always a place for us, whatever “we” are, right? It’s just not in the way guys and gals my age pictured it. I used to sleep over at my grandparents house when I was a kid. This is when I was still young enough to get up at the same time they did. I watched cartoons, they read the paper. I wasn’t to disturb them. My family would come over and there would be discussions around the news of the day. I wanted to be a part of what they were reading and talking about. I wish I would have been resolute in my stance later in life.

Between the ages of around 16 and 17, I got dumb. I lost the script. Rather than pursue something which felt natural, I went with something I pursued for about six months because of income potential. But I’m not after a history lesson here. No one cares about that, if I could make an assumption about you, the reader.

Staying true to oneself. Everyone talks about it, few actually walk the path with any consistency. When I decided to do it, my commitments grew with each passing year. I am unable to pursue my path with any real fervor or passion or engagement. Maybe it is why I’ve stayed away from writing the last year or so. I have come to resent it, which is sad. When I put “pen to pad,” it’s dull. You don’t get it from a muse on your shoulder, as my adviser would say, it comes from practice. Practice is not a word I am familiar with right now.

When I rolled out of bed to fire up my laptop and pour myself a cocktail, I didn’t think it would be to lament the last dozen or so years of my life. At least one portion of it, the professional side, because the personal highlights are there. And they’re big. And they’re good. My wife, my son… you get the idea. But when you’ve got a mortgage and bills to pay how do you get into making what a 22 year old can barely live off of? I hate saying this, because when other people say this it makes me lose respect for them, but if I could go back and slap my teenage-self in the face, I would. For breaking away from what I knew I could do. That and listening to 311.

I fell into the trap. The one where you go after the money rather than what drives you. I could have been a good writer, reporter or whatever. But now, who knows what is going to come out of it. Hard to get your foot in the front door when the trap door is open. I feel like an asshole writing stuff like this, but how else do you get it out these days?

You do the best with which you can, right? Which is the best cliche I can come up with. You put your head down, respect your fellow man and raise your kids to be better than you were. The incremental success rate in my lineage will hopefully take that final leap with my kin.

Exercise

The Damned Things posing while trying not to.

I’ve seen some live music in my day. I’ve sneaked out of the house as a teenager to pile in a car on the way to Minneapolis with a case of beer. Growing up in Sioux Falls in the 90′s, it was a short list of artists who made their way in.

Living in Kansas City, it comes down to which band you want to see, and not just going out of necessity for some sort of live experience. It is a double-edged sword for yours truly, as you can see, I’m old and married. I have a mortgage, school and work obligations. Not to mention I reside in a town in the area which is the least conducive to driving downtown, where most shows take place.

In the rare instance I do venture out, it is for someone or group of someones I have an interest in seeing or already knew about. Tomorrow night, I’ll play the exception.

The Damned Things is a group I had no idea existed until a friend of mine told our group of friends about them. All I knew is there are two guys from Anthrax. In fact, the only guy you probably recognize if you aren’t 20 or younger (you’ll understand in a minute) is Scott Ian. The rest of the band is made up of two guys from the band Every Time I Die (not a huge fan) and the drummer and guitarist from (fuck) Fall Out Boy.

T-Shirt and Jeans

"Hey mom, I hate you."

From an early age in this country we are told we are all unique and we can grow up and be anything we would like to be. Do you ever find yourself in public and think to yourself, “some people take the snowflake principle a little too far?”

I know, we’ve all been there. You stop in a record store or go to a show and find yourself a little out of place. Not because of the context of the environment, but because you’re catching some hard stares from some scruffy and homeless looking individuals.