26/52 - Back to the Grove

"What's coming is bigger than me. The world needs heroes they can know, not gods, to inspire them—show them they can be heroes." 

- Batman (JLA Rebirth #1 Steve Orlando)

Dear Internauts,

I'm sitting here thinking maybe this week I won't post. I mean, what's the point, right? I failed these last 26 weeks at trying to find a way back into some kinda independent life. Despite working hard every day applying to jobs so I could move out of my Aunt and Uncle's house, I could only find temp work, and little at that. Despite the temp work allowing me to pay the rent they asked due to its long hours during the limited run, I was kicked out with little notice as some kind of condescending incentive for me to get my act together. Despite me working every day on my writing and music, it's not like that counts as a job in the eyes of some folks, even if you're able to pay rent.

Not everyone wants to sell their soul to a dead-end corporate job for ten to twelve hours a day ad infinitum. I was told that should be my goal. Normally, I'd say to anyone who thinks that, well, they obviously don't know me or have much sense about anything, but when that person decides if I have a place to sleep at night, I'll try to be a bit more polite. Thing is, I'm feeling absurdly passive aggressive at the moment. I spent the last seven months trying to stay out of the way of folks who had said they were happy to have me as long as I needed. Now, maybe I should know that no one actually means shit like that, and as I've said before, I never intended to be in that house as long as I was. I spent every day trying to leave in fact. I don't like feeling like a hanger-on. I don't like feeling like I'm leeching off the kindness of others beyond what they're happy to provide. Asking for help isn't easy for me. Necessity makes it a bit easier, though.

I kinda went dark there for a few years, between when everything fell apart in Nashville to when I started doing this blog thing on the weekly. As much as I can never truly express the abundance of gratitude I have for my folks allowing me to stay with them, supporting, and encouraging me when I've nowhere else to go and no one else to which I can turn, I still feel a bit like I'm sinking into a hole again. I got back to PA on Friday, unpacked my car on Saturday, and besides a lunch with the fam today, spent most of it just feeling lost and exhausted. If I didn't feel like my life had direction in Massachusetts then how is being back in PA supposed to make me feel?

Now, I more than kinda hate when this blog just turns into a rambling complaint storm. As much as I despise the idea that folks should shut up about their problems because "someone always has it worse"—that's such a dismissive, compassionless, patronizing mode of thought—I do recognize that I've come out of some bad turns in less than the worst of times. Of course there are worse things than feeling lost and worthless and discouraged in your twenties. Of course my many privileges and lucky turns and support systems keep me afloat due to no act of my own or merit I hold. Still, a buoy ain't a sailboat.

So what's next?

We ask that so much, don't we? We ask it as if we ever know. It's short-hand for hope. Truth is, we dangle on high-wires, scratching itches and beating down the bitterness grown from grumpy self-reflection.

I don't even know if I believe in the concept of bad people anymore. I think evil is as much a conceptual tool used to control others' actions as it is our own. We're all pretty scared, and fear keeps us moving. We all find methods of living that work for us, and sometimes those involve helping or hurting others. Sometimes we can tell the difference, but most of the time we're too busy trying not to starve to question our motives beyond familiar patterns of thought and behavior.

I'm an angry person. I'm a sad person. I'm traumatized and slow. I spent too much of my childhood being told how smart I am to know how to work hard at anything I'm not immediately half-decent at. Thus, I know how to give up on myself when it comes to anything I can easily use to declare myself inferior.

When your entire self-image is based on comparing yourself to the arch-tropes of Good and Evil, it's pretty easy to feel both absurdly self-righteous and self-loathing. Maybe growing up is just learning to relate to Judge Frollo, Phoebus, Esmerelda, and Quasimodo all at the same time. Maybe it's going from thinking Holden Caufield is cool to thinking he's sad to thinking he's a person. Characters aren't us, but we craft ourselves out of pieces of mythology, using characters like stained glass, never holding ourselves up to exactly the same light one moment to the next.

I've been lettering the comic, meaning I'm rewriting dialogue and second and third-guessing the placement of word balloons.

I've also got a song or two that could really been something new.

I already miss the ocean, but I certainly don't miss the weird, woodsy, kinda elitist suburb vibe of where I'd been living this year so far. Not that I didn't gag on the scent of mushroom compost being back here in south eastern PA.

On July the 20th, I'll be back in Massachusetts, in Somerville, for the MA Solo Artist Awards show. Please, if you're in the area and free that night, consider buying a ticket and coming. I think it could be a great time. I'll certainly play my heart out, but I only get to play if I can sell enough tickets. So at least if you've read this far down the page consider it. Could be wicked awesome. Here's the link: http://bridgingthemusic.com/events/category/boston/

Of course I'll keep you updated as I do whatever I'll be doing next. This week is gonna be a challenge to stay as far from fatalistic as my music and medication will allow.

I over-share because I care. If you too are struggling to figure out the next moment of your journey, please know you're not alone.

Thanks for reading,
Odist