Without any effort at all, the thought of ‘why bother’ sails across the forefront of my mind. Matters not, the cause. It goes along its way just the same.
Sometimes it passes. Gone just as quick as arrived and not much afterthought, if any at all given towards where or why it went.
Then other times, it lingers. Malignantly. It circles as I bled out into the water. In all sorts of places, and at any old time. I float through these moments, wondering why I seem so stubborn and set upon avoiding any type of life that I were to deem ordinary. To me, such a life seems worth than death.
Perhaps that is some sort of clinically observed and documented regular irregularity within the human mind. Maybe, it’s a condition. I don’t care much to find out. Just as I don’t care much to change from it. Nor do I wish to be free of doubt. To go ahead as bold as ignorance can push you, with no reality put towards your own perception- sounds a lot like being a total jackass.
I’d rather just be a partial jackass. The endearing kind. Which, I believe have been successful towards doing.
There’s another concept of great abstraction. Success.
What does it take to be? Are there different metrics to observe it? Is it even worth the while?
Am I successful?
As a writer?
Well, I’m unpublished. So, in that arena, no, I lack success.
And I have had minimal work churned out thus far in this last half a year. I have a draft of a novel that I’ve been sitting on since the end of college. To give perspective, this is homecoming weekend. I did not attend. I didn’t realize it was occurring and feel far too old to be able to participate without being horribly self-conscious. So, that’s how long that first draft has been waiting for me.
Yet, I have no plans on abandoning it. And it will be published. I owe that to myself. And to Professor Dave, who truly believed in me.
And outside of unfinished literature, I have kept at this, with not many hiatuses, for damn near a decade. So, if it is possible to be prolific and generally unnoticed, this here proves it.
As a musician?
Played a gig yesterday.
Earlier this week, I was asked to fill a vacancy in a charity gig. Medium sized room that was left with little elbow space to pass through and not knock elbows. The friend who asked on behalf of the woman running the event, he’s like a brother, you see. Known him for ten years now. We learned a few things about being adults together. And have worked to never grown up, in unspoken methods and manners.
So, we played some of these tunes I wrote last year with my other fake name. And everything that he did, improved upon each song. Kept my sometimes vastly wavering rhythms on point. He gave these tunes some spine, which they needed. As would be expected from a musician of his professional caliber. After all, we’d hardly had a chance to practice these tunes once. And it was his second gig of the day. I do not believe it will be our last together.
It must say something in the shape of positive that he and folks like him enjoy working with me. Enjoy playing these songs I dreamt up and drunkenly staggered into my Tascam a year ago. And it allows me to learn more about myself. Like how none of my songs have much in the way of endings. They just kinda fade out. Which is cool… on a record… sometimes. But in a room full of people, it can be kind of weird. But Sully is good at endings, which is nice.
As a father?
Well, I suppose the quality of parenting is best judged by those being parented. Right?
If everyone thinks you’re a good parent aside from your kids, I think you’ve missed the point. And this, or course, excluded the natural tension bound to occur between the party in charge of order and protection (parent) and the party who favors chaos and experimentation (offspring). If there isn’t a bit of that, I guess we could call it ‘in-fighting’, you’re likely not providing the proper types of structure that will allow your wee ones to effectively navigate the world once they are no longer wee ones.
That being said, I’ve been told, and I quote, “you’re the greatest daddy in the whole universe”. ‘Greatest’ has also been substituted with ‘cutest’.
So, there’s that.
Maybe it’s good fortune. That which has allowed me to face down the ‘why bothers’ of life, and sooner or later, emerge victorious and indulged again in my own convictions. Or maybe, it’s just will power that allows me to take whatever reality is presented and to sculpt it towards my own specific narrative. Or is it that I adapt my narrative to the realities that occur beyond my control?
Either way. Success, right?
And yet, I don’t think I’m successful. Not yet. That’s a sort of after you’re dead measurement.
But I have had successes. And I do keep trying, despite, at times, unfavorable odds.
So, we shall see, I suppose. I couldn’t guess all of my yesterdays and it is safe to assume that one always knows less about tomorrows than todays.
But I feel like I can keep going forward. And that beats the why bother of this morning. A small success, one could say.