Finding Your Own Way is Apparently a Never Ending Process
So I’m at home, alone, listening to the same song again and again on repeat.
If you have to know, it’s Birds in Row’s “Pilori” and these kids, ten years young than me, from France, are kicking my creative ass to the ground.
I feel like I’ve been working hard for years but I feel that I not only need to work harder, I am destined to fight more and more social pressures as times goes on.
Last year I self-published two novels and wrote one more that I am now trying to get an agent for and/or a publishing house for. I also received my diploma from Concordia University which by all means is no small year. Still I’m pissed at myself. I’m pissed because I’m 30 and I feel all sorts of social pressures and expectations are getting the better of me. Let me say this right away, if you’re 20 and you’re in a band or you’re an artist, people will not look down on you because they expect you to be done with that shit by the time you’re 30. They expect you to get back in line, get a steady job (if those exist anymore) and “realize” that your years in an aggressive band was nothing but late-teenage-rebellion.
But when you reach 30, “you better get your shit straight!” I mean, it doesn’t matter that my wife is working on some major TV sets, making fair money doing something she loves. It doesn’t matter that I can put out two novels a year and still manage to write songs, blogs and raise a daughter. The moment I get out of my circle of creative friends, people look at my like a freak just like the jocks did back in high school. Now back in high school we’d get together and play music to escape that shit, but as you’re growing up and the bills stack up, you’re force to AT LEAST get out and work which means you need to look just good enough to get a job that, if you’re lucky, won’t completely drain you emotionally.
And I have found bad jobs and now have what I consider an OK job, but it’s neither creative or interesting. And I feel like I’ve been both scared and selling myself short. I feel like I haven’t had my knuckles and hands tattooed because in the back of my head, there’s this fucked up idea that I’ll need to get in line some day, that someone will give me a better job for a better pay or some shit. And that’s not me. That was never who I wanted to be. I have spent my life being happy to piss off all sorts of authority figures. I love to get conservatives angry. I love to call bullshit when I see it. Why would I change now?
I have worked very bad jobs with truly, truly poor people. I have escaped from poverty and often feelt ashamed because of it. The truth is I was a middle-class kid who fell off the wagon, tried to get back onto it and, thanks to my family, I am not in poverty anymore. Why should I feel guilty about that? Why should I feel bad about my situation because others have not escaped it? Am I a sellout for not wanting to help anymore? I know I shouldn’t feel these things, but I do, so I guess that leaves me fucked.
When I was a teenager, I was pissed because everybody around me were trying to get me to live the way they wanted. Like everyone else, it started with the parents and the school (we never went to church) and then, even in the punk scene or in student unions, you were expected to take part in no small amount of drinking and drug use (or even abuse) and being Straight Edge, I didn’t want anything to do with that. I was even deemed to “conservative” by certain members of student unions because of my position on drugs. I never wanted to be just another middle-class suburban kid who took drugs on a weekly basis because I could afford it. I fucking know where drugs come from, who deals them, what they do to your body and you mind. I never wanted anything to do with that. Then some Christians tried to link sober living with some Godly experience. And I hate God(s) just as much as I hate drugs (they are arguably the same anyways). I work with christians, muslims and (going to Concordia) I have met plenty of Jewish people I have become friends or colleagues with. I still don’t believe in God, yet somehow, I feel that I’ve toned down my beliefs as a true Atheist in order to preserve some sense of “globalized good behavior” where you shouldn’t make no waves to upset anyone.
It’s like everything’s supposed to be equal and everybody’s happy and we should all just “live and let live kumbaya” like dancing fucking hippies. I don’t shove my Atheist beliefs in everyone’s face anymore, yet every FUCKING week, I get some religious group (whether they be Christian, Krishna or Muslim) trying to fucking convert me. Would it be seen as “religious oppression” if I openly told them to shut the fuck up and read a science book for a change? I mean, be religious and I guess you’re the slave to some God that doesn’t exist. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to know about it and I sure as shit ain’t gonna respect it.
I don’t see why I should hold back anymore. Why should I hold back on anything? My art, writing and music aren’t getting better because of it. Why can’t I get my hands tattooed because some hypothetical job may or may not hire me? Some fucking office ain’t gonna hire me. They probably won’t let me see HR or anything. They don’t want a free spirit anyways and I know I can’t shut the fuck up about how things ought to run. Why wouldn’t I get “Born Free” tattooed on my knuckles? So I would not upset some corporate client who’d be too stupid or self-centered to realize the deep philosophical meaning behind two simple words? Fuck!
So what’s the point now?
Fuck The World!
If I have to stand alone, I’ll do it. I’ll stand against all the idiots, the conservatives and the drones, or even some of the leftist, who in some eternal quest for equality, have forgotten that we are also all unique in nature.
I won’t fucking feel guilty anymore because I want to be daring and creative. I refuse to feel guilty because I’m not fucking poor anymore or that I can manage to finish a novel while others can’t seem to get one started. I won’t feel bad or useless because I’d rather be playing music. I won’t sell myself short anymore, not like that. I wasn’t down with this shit in high school, I’m not gonna start now when I’m fucking thirty.
I was once told that I had to find my own way, and I fell in love with art in many of its forms. If I have to renew my vows every once in a while, then let this post be one of these moments.