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Entry date: 8-20-2022 - The Weekend is bitchy - Letters to My Friends

Dear Friends,


Warning: I am feeling a little ‘not so great’ today and need to vent. If you want a happier story, I suggest reading the daily news.


*****


It’s Saturday. To be honest, this means nothing right now. Each day sort of feels the same now. Sure, I don’t have to work with students today, but I still have things to do. I’m still busy being a dad, for example, and keeping the house from falling down.


Right now, it really does feel like the house is falling down. All I can see is the things that need to be fixed around here. It’s overwhelming. If you aren’t of sturdy loins, don’t ever buy an older house or have multiple kids or have pets or use any household appliances.


Just. Don’t. Do. It.


If you are sturdy, however, you may continue.


I’m just being a little bit of a moaning wimp right now (or maybe a full-fledged one), but there are days when I don’t want to think about all of the chores that need to be done or all of the dollars that need to be spent. My wife is much better at not letting the list bog her down. I get overwhelmed. I need things itemized in a way that makes sense. I need to do one thing at a time so I can cross it off the list. When there are too many things, I shut down.


It seems like everyone I speak with lately is in the midst of some sort of life flux. I know people getting divorced or changing jobs or thinking about how to be more creative, etc. I don’t feel like I am in a flux, but I do feel like I need to be paying attention to all this flux around me so that I don’t get sucked into it. A week or so ago, I wrote about “Doing it now” and I can say that it took me a while to get going. The momentum is starting to do its thing, though.


Why am I telling you this? That’s a good question. I think it is because I feel a little lost.


If you’re following along, I’m on my own for a bit. Rhondi is in Maine, and I fully support that, but it is hard. We are trying to accomplish some goals, but not being in the same room makes it hard to feel like we are truly working together. It feels a lot more like I am working on my own and I’m guessing it feels the same for her. I like the idea of having a safety net that is under both of us and it is hard to do from almost 3000 miles away.


I am just not sure how to improve this situation or handle this feeling. I got passed it last year and I know I shall again this year, too. I just need to vent. I need to write my way through it and you, poor reader, are going to be the one who suffers today.


I suppose I have felt this way in the past and always survived. That is something to latch onto, right? I am still here, heart is still beating, and the interest in learning and growing and being creative still floats the proverbial boat. I just don’t know what to do with today.


On Wednesday, I wrote my first New Times article in a hot minute, and it felt pretty good. I need to get back into writing for dollars again. I like getting paid to write. I don’t mind working on this blog because the “pay” side of things is completely intrinsic, but other writing is sometimes like pulling teeth without a little extrinsic reward.


I learned this in a painful way last year when a friend of mine turned me on to a cool website that does some interesting music reviews. I got the impression it was a paying gig, so I threw my hat in the ring. It was not a paying gig, though, so I wrote one and called it a day. My buddy got a little upset with me because he was hoping I would write for them, but I honestly don’t know why. I should have asked. Instead, I said I couldn’t do it and he kind of accused me of being a sellout. Not the first time that’s happened.


A few years ago, I got accused of being the writing equivalent of an ambulance chaser. I have written a lot of obituaries over the years about musicians who have died. It’s both an honor and a curse. Sometimes people just don’t realize that I typically don’t pitch these things. The publication comes to me about them. It really hurt to get accused of that, especially when I turned down the assignment in question because I didn’t really know the person who had unexpectedly died.


I hate getting caught up in the drama of those types of things but thinking about situations like these reminds me of the fact that I can and do survive them. Maybe it is age or wisdom or something else, but I find myself giving less and less of a fuck when it comes to what other people think. When people are thoughtless or careless in their actions, my current attitude is “Oh well, I don’t have time for that. Fuck’em.”


That may seem cavalier, but in the end, the only people who really matter are the ones who are willing to meet me halfway on the respect train. I do my best to keep my side of the street clean, to borrow a phrase from a friend of mine, and as long as I’m doing that, I have nothing to feel bad about when other people get their side nice and dirty. Life is too short to worry about justifying or spending too much time analyzing someone else’s behavior unless that someone is your child or spouse.


At the end of the day, I have to ask myself if I did my best for that day. I can’t worry about yesterday or tomorrow. One is gone and one is waiting to be done. Did I do my best today? We’ll see.


See you tomorrow.



One of the worst gigs I ever played and I survived. Seems fitting for today.

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