Sometimes, I’ll forget why I love music. That doesn’t mean I ever stop loving it; it just means that sometimes music exists in the background, and loving it becomes a given, an infinite state. I think this happens with anything that we habitually inundate ourselves with, and it’s probably natural. New songs, new cities, new jobs…these are all evocative things, but then we play the songs over and over, live in the cities for years, work the jobs every day, and they never look, feel, or sound the same again.
Well, almost never. About a week ago, I was sitting in my bedroom listening to the same music I have loved for years…and I was completely rocking out. I can’t explain why; I guess I was at the confluence of various moods, emotions, and nostalgia and I was absolutely juiced by the music. For not-the-first-time in recent years, I started thinking about how powerful beautiful things can be and how much I wanted to be a part of something so energizing, and this led me to the years when I was in a band. We were not even close to being famous, but I was very lucky to be surrounded by three very talented, creative musicians, and I’m exceedingly proud of how good we were and what we were able to accomplish and experience. It’s as close to generating that bedroom-rock-out feeling I’ve ever gotten.
But, as seems to be the unfortunate motif of my life, I never really threw myself into my band with reckless abandon. I can’t say exactly why; I usually felt that I was always miles away, talent-wise, from where I wanted and needed to be for us to be better. Maybe it was a simple case of being afraid of failure. But, for whatever reason, I do think that I always had at least a toe out the door, and sometimes as much as one entire foot. It was never a question of passion, because there is nothing that feels better than being blown away by something you’ve helped to create, and performing never ceased to be enjoyable. I just never fully reveled in that passion; I never really tried hard enough. And when I think of how much further we might have gone with the full compliment of my heart, I am a little regretful.
Strangely, I find that I have no concept of what my future looks like, but I think if I had my choice, I would be a writer. I’ve been kicking this idea around in my head for a while, and it sounds nice, but as of right this instant, I ain’t written shit. A few bits and pieces here, a poem there, and that’s it. Essentially, I’ve taken the same pussified approach to writing as I did to my band, with predictably similar results. Drewtopia is my effort at changing that.
Basically, once a week, I am going to post something that I hope other people actually want to read. I don’t anticipate too many “Here’s What I’ve Been Doing” posts, because I will be the first to admit that my life is currently uninteresting. Instead, I’d like to think of this blog as a repository for the essays, opinions, book and movie reviews, short stories, and poems that I’m going to start forcing myself to write. I’ve also felt that my ordinarily-sharp mind has begun to atrophy recently, and I’ve started to feel as if what I really think has been increasingly replaced by shades of gray. Hopefully this exercise will help me to think critically and rediscover what it is I actually believe. About everything. And don’t worry; I’m going to package it all in bite-sized (maybe lunch-sized) morsels for you.
I can only speculate as to why most people start a blog. I really have no idea, but this is my long-winded way of explaining why I’m starting this one. It’s my first stab at trying something. Your comments, criticisms, and praises (or lack thereof) will be a useful barometer for measuring my success or failure. Enjoy.
