I feel like I've been neglecting this, and by doing so neglecting some self-expression and reflection, however, the upside to this is that I've been doing a lot to further my "professional" writing career, so it's not as if I've been dicking around watching SVU non-stop. I'm only watching SVU with Greg part of the time. However, since sleep and I continue to have a difficult relationship, and after having a particularly antsy turned cathartic turned heart-wrenching turned longing turned hopefully night into morning, I went for a walk for a breakfast burrito and some groceries. Upon getting home, I realized I had nothing to do (since Sunshine's car is having some sort of starter issue, which leaves me off the hook for picking her up at the airport and leaving me with a lack of In-N-Out burger in my life today), so I decided to go the Bukowski/Hemingway route, pour a shot of Fernet, crack a Bud, and let myself get some shit off my chest that isn't about how awesome Saviours is live or faking an interest in Kimya Dawson (I'll link those stories later).
For those of you who need a little more than cryptic, unclear paragraphs written during the witching hours, I am running full force at becoming a writer. I am really getting the music writer game going the most first because it seems to fall in my lap easiest seeing as how I've been overly involved in music for most of my life, but I am currently trying to navigate my way through a novel/memoir and being the editor of an online/blog magazine. Great ideas that are currently being underwritten by the great State of California and their disability insurance, because there sure as shit isn't any money in writing at the level I'm at. The amount of hustling it takes to get a name out in the realm of music writing is vast, which is why my baby, my soul, my pathetic attempt at self-expression, 99miles, has taken such a backseat. I figured its just not fair to my mother, grandmother, and the six other people who give a shit about what goes on here. So the music writing has caught me a touch of a break for the moment, so I'm going to explain this decision to you. i had intended on going to USF for Grad School for a Masters in Education and a special certificate in being a Reading Interventionist. While this isn't an idea I'm throwing to the way side, I really don't see myself leaving that idea in the dust, but I'm watching California destroy it's educational infrastructure and thinking that throwing $60,000 at a school in loans to head into an industry that is currently getting gutted and burned for reasons I can't comprehend, why not run at writing about punk, metal, hardcore, indie rock, emo, or whatever which I at least have been told I am somewhat of an expert on. Beyond that, I'm apparently good with the words, so fuck it. You never know until you try, right?
The old tumor is still in there, and due to the usual health industry red tape, we are nearing the end of a standstill in removal progress. There really isn't anything to report there, but it is taking quite the toll on a lot of relationships in my life. Some of them are strained, some of them are fractured, and I'm afraid a few are done for good. While I am not happy at all with this path life has lead me down, I am learning more and more each day how little I was doing for myself and for others while I was sick, and really for a lot of my life before then. I have talked about in previous posts how the upside to getting sidelined by life gives you time to think about your station in life and where you should go next, and I'm happy to find myself heading down the path I need to be going down. I plan on addressing some of the sudden changes in trust and emotion I have towards people in my life at some point, and really am working to avoid cutting people out in most cases, but I'm feeling the best for myself when I am doing the things I need to do for myself. I knew this was the proper path to take after a lengthy talk with my younger brother while walking from Upper Haight to the Mission last week. He recently peaced out on a rather lucrative job for a late 20s dude to have to go on tour playing folk music. He's struggling in some regards, but he's happy. To me, that makes more sense than not struggling as much but suffering more. You only get one life, so you need to do it right.
It's unfortunate that coming to this decision has lead to some collateral damage in my life, but it always hurts to rip off the band aid, and usually your first dive into the deep end of the pool is cold as fuck. At the end of the day, scars heal or you learn how to tread water.
In closing, I am just going to say that sometimes getting what you want means fighting hard. In my case, in simultaneously fighting a tumor, false impressions, misinformation, lack of trust, being a small fish in a big pond, and a very large (literally and figuratively) roadblock to getting to where I want to end up in life. A month ago, challenges this daunting would have had me looking at the full bottle of Tylenol PM in the medicine chest as my only way out. In January, from the comfort of my own homebase, surrounded by a team who's pushing me harder and harder to keep fighting the good fight, there isn't anything in front of me that is out of reach.
I'd like to thank the following individuals for really coming through for me as I've gotten my life back to being my own over the last few weeks: Sunshine, Greg, Danielle, Mingo, Bryan, Pike, Taler, Paisley, Tia, Kevin, Javier and the Van Huss/Koska Family, Captain Chase Corum, Collin O Brian, Ryan Fucking Dale, Jimmy Jazz, Koji, Carl, Jason at Eli's, the wonderful folks at Godspeed, Leanne and the SFist.com. Without you guys I don't know what the fuck I'd be up to.
Thanks.
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