My problem has always been that I love too many things at once, that I love too many people at once. I have always loved and wanted more than one thing. Why must that be such a bad thing?
It’s not.
This Blog is Still a Thing
I said that as much to persuade myself as much as I said it to convince you. Actually, I didn’t say it to convince you at all. I’m pretty sure I said it entirely for my own affirmation. This blog is, indeed, still a thing. Even though my other blog has really become my blog, I suppose this one’s a little different. I can say things on this one that I can’t say on the other one. On the other one, I have to be orderly. There has to be an agenda, and it has to be confined to one topic, and it has to be at least somewhat easy to read. There has to be a progression. And the topics never extend beyond a very innocent, easily definable border. So, with that in mind, let’s say everything I want to say that doesn’t involve what I’m confined to on my other blog:
1) I quit my band. They’re constantly posting Youtube clips, songs, photos, statuses and other things for their well-oiled social media machine (nothing wrong with any of that), so I’m constantly reminded of the decision I made. Sometimes I’ll listen to a clip of “Elmer and the Man that Feeds Him” and think “Wow. That’s as proud as I’ve been of anything I’ve ever played guitar on. It sounds incredible. I really do miss playing this song.” Then, five minutes later, I’ll open my wallet, see that there’s money in it and think “Nah, dude, you made the right decision.” Not that money matters that much. I’ll take my artistic principles (whatever they are) over money on most days; particularly ones where I’m not that hungry. But I need to know I’m getting something out of my musical investments. Something I can look to and say “I did this and I’m proud of it.” That just wasn’t happening enough. That’s no one’s fault, though. They’re magnificent people. I hope they inhale the Break Contest, mash it with their jaws and spit it right back out.
2) The result of my exit is “Gala Apple,” something I’ve wanted to do for quite a while. It’s a five-song “EP” that I recorded with the help of Mr. Keenan Awesome. I’ve always wanted to do something instrumental, or record something that I can point to and say “I wrote all of this.” I’ve got Mack Flinn (which has music in the works as well), and that’s always been more than enough to scratch my musical itches. It still is. But in light of quitting Bad Case, my shoulders were starting to get tense again. I knew I had to exhaust some creativity immediately. I had to stay sharp, I had to get something out. And so I did. My shoulders aren’t so tense now. The thing is, I need to be constantly documenting my life with music. Constantly. It’s more of a diary to me than this Tumblr could ever be. Scotches and I have done a good job at that, but our schedules can be conflicting sometimes. So during those idle times, I still have to keep the wheel turning. I want to record as much music as I can, and now I have the confidence that I can write/record things entirely from my own mind. Maybe we’ll see “Braeburn Apple” or “Fuji Apple” in the future. After recording it, I feel very comfortable with music, and now hopefully Scotches and I can start playing the kinds of gigs they pay you to play. Also, thank you Elisa. I got the idea for recording “Gala Apple” while listening to Gipsy Kings on your bedroom floor. It all hit me right there: There’s a reason everything I write sounds so damn Latin.
3) I like being employed, I don’t care how insane my hours are. I’ve started to work around it. In the beginning, it was tough to manage. I had to find ways to continue doing things that make me feel like myself (music, beer writing/reading, etc.) and I think I’ve started to figure that out. I even see friends a little more now. Thank God for that.
4) My girlfriend is some kind of glorious angel, some beautiful creature that you see in the weirdest dreams. The clouds move aside for her or something, and she swoops down whenever I’m really bummed and she goes “Just put your hand on my tummy and shut up.” And then I’m good. It’s like I’m dating a celebrity. Like, we’ll makeout or something and then I’ll go look in the mirror and say to myself “CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT JUST HAPPENED!?”
And a few thoughts for my records:
1) If you’ve never thought about killing yourself, I don’t think we can be friends. Yeah, read that again and then think about it critically.
2) Speaking of critical thinking, I’ve started to realize how important that is. Especially in the age of the internet. Critically think about everything, because it’s very easy to be swayed by groupthink now.
3) On the docket: San Francisco, Vermont, Colorado, and a lot of breweries.
Facebook Timeline
Is insane. I just looked through 2005, 2006 and 2007 and I can hardly breathe. It is… absolutely staggering, how different my life was, and in a few ways how similar it was. First of all, it’s delightful to see comments from the people you’re still close with. You can go back and view the depth of your current friendships anytime you want, it’s really charming. You can also look back and see comments from a few people who were outliers at the time, but years later would become a part of your inner circle. It’s littered with tons of those “If I could go back to 2007 and tell myself that THIS is what life would be like right now…” types of moments.
It’s also littered with friendships that have either changed, or worse, disappeared completely. There are certain people I was friends with who I had actually completely forgotten I was ever friends with. Also, there are comments from people I knew I was close with, but I had totally forgotten the depth of that closeness until I saw that they used to comment on my wall almost every day. It’s triggering all sorts of little memories that I thought I had forgotten.
At the same time, I appreciate the brief stays that certain people have had throughout my adult life. I like knowing their time with me is stuck somewhere, and that they possess a chunk of my past, and I can look back to my time with them and know exactly what kind of person I was at the time and the types of things I would’ve said. But more so, it makes me appreciate the hell out of everyone I was close with then, and everyone I’m still close with now.
Haven’t Been this Pissed off in Ages.
- Case A
What was said: “Whatever, I don’t censor myself.”
What my response should have been: “Cool. That doesn’t mean I have to put up with it.”
- Case B
What was said: “Sup starvation!”
What my response should have been: ”You’re a fucking awful human being and the fact that you have a single friend on this planet is mind boggling.”
- Case C
What was said: “This is just how the system works.”
What my response should have been: ”No, it isn’t. I’m not 18 anymore and I don’t need to put money in the pockets of lazy do-nothing wastes of life.”
- Case D
What was said: “I understand, but there’s nothing in journalism.”
What my response should have been: “There’s happiness.”
Of course
I can’t sleep when I want to. I have to be up for work in four hours. Weh. I’m feeling very musically creative at the moment and I can do absolutely nothing about it. I think that’s what’s keeping me awake.
All I Wanted
was to get home, collapse into my wooden plank of a bed and sleep. Now it’s absurdly difficult. The lights were off for about five minutes, there was a glimmer of hope as my mind was fading into a wild stream of consciousness. Then I abruptly snapped out of it and thought “Ugh. Come on.”
So, a few thoughts. And maybe by the end of them, I’ll be ready to wrap myself up like a burrito and fall asleep.
I’ve started to realize the importance of doing things that make me feel like myself. Ever since I started this hectic job, it’s been a bit difficult to establish the balance that allows that to happen. There’s a certain daily routine I have to follow, otherwise it’s as if I don’t feel complete. I feel like something’s missing. I have to wake up, play guitar for at least an hour, do my situps/pushups, write a beer review or two and maybe read or something, all the while staying in contact with good people. And I have to reach a certain quota for each activity, otherwise my mind feels unsettled. And if something gets in the way of any of this, I feel annoyed all throughout work, because I’m stuck in a cold control room and I can’t get to doing any of what I truly care about until I get out, and even then it might be too late because I’ll be too exhausted when I get home.
In ways I’m still struggling to find that balance, but I can feel it gradually getting there, especially with my hours about to shift to something (a little more) normal. I just want to remain productive in terms of intellectual stimulation and property. That’s been the case with the former, as I’m always reading (mainly about brewing), but the latter has been a challenge, though that’s coming along as well. Bad Case of Big Mouth has finished an EP I’m very, very proud of, and Scotches and I are playing a gig at Crossroads on the 19th. Things such as this make me feel like me, and not having them consistently makes you realize just how important they are.
I’m surrounded by nothing but wonderful, amazing people. I just need to make sure that I’m keeping up with the things that make me hopefully be equally wonderful to them in return.
When you get home from work at this hour,
You want to be comforted by something. Something that can let you know the world is still awake somewhere, that someone else is breathing while not sleeping. In this case, it was an infomercial about free catheter disposal.
I’m going to play the scrooge here and say, shouldn’t a university pride itself on its academics rather than its sports? is the point of a university not to educate?
also, ironically, this piece from The Atlantic appeared adjacent to this article on my dash: The Shame of College Sports, on the exploitation of young athletes.
Hello. I noticed your comment on your reblog of my post, and I understand what you’re driving at. I don’t mean to attack you, insult you or otherwise criticize you for taking that viewpoint on my post. But what I would like to do is congratulate you on missing the point of my post so brilliantly. It goes without saying that my pride of being a Buckeye and of being an Ohio State graduate goes far, far beyond any connection I had to the football team. My experiences with the school, my brilliant professors, the relationships I developed, the first-class education I received and the sights, sounds and happenings of that wonderful campus affect me much more deeply than any football team ever could. My Ohio State pride ultimately has very little to do with football or college athletics.
My post was not meant to be some general assessment of how my Ohio State pride is directly related to the success of the football team. My life has had its ups and downs. Briefly before attending Ohio State, my life had many more downs than ups. The Ohio State University, and Columbus as a whole, saved me, it gave me an opportunity to change my fortune, to receive a wonderful education in a wonderful, lively city. My post was meant to convey that Ohio Stadium, this building in particular, is a building in which my dreams came true because as a journalism major, honing my craft and sharing the team’s success on the air with people around the world was something I could have never envisioned happening in what had been a very difficult life until that time. The post is about how this beautiful building is very special to me. Nothing else. My Ohio State pride is deeply rooted in education. But it’s personified mainly in the little parts of myself that I left scattered throughout the campus. And there is a lot of myself permanently stamped on Ohio Stadium.
