Dzeti gave me a bottle of mysterious shampoo (No, not the one referenced in the title of this post. Or is it?) before I left IPBA since my hair had grown unpleasant visually and aromatically. Now, my hair looks silky smooth and smells glorious, though the fact that I had shaven it nearly bald might have given it an additional shine. I also love how the shampoo eases my headaches no matter how bad or why, be it overheating, oversleeping or overthinking, among other things. It works wonders!
My niece is having a time of her life lately. I guess any 2-year-old single child would be. I watch her receiving undivided love from people surrounding her, getting new toys and enjoying these prized precious possessions until she's all exhausted and sweating. It reminds me of myself at her age. I got everything that I wanted and I owned the world. I'm glad she has the chance to experience such wide-eyed joy and excitement. I just desperately hope that it never comes with a price that she'll have to pay later when she's all grown up.
The price that I have to pay.
Perhaps I need to go shampoo now.
I spent the day reading Tom Gabel’s blog, tracing my way through the posts in rewind. I recently got into Against Me! and found the man to be quite interesting. I don’t want to be singing praises or displaying my (totally heterosexual) fondness of the guy here, though. It just that it reminds me of how I did the same with Claudio Sanchez’s (for a brief period since it hasn’t been updated) and Jason Mraz’s blogs. They really got me hooked and I enjoy reading about their yarns, opinions, personal struggles and fun times as much as I do watching movies and TV series.
There’s something about the fast-paced life of a touring musician that fascinates me. It’s not just about earning money doing something you love, visiting new places and making new acquaintances each day. I want to know about the unpredictability of life on the road, the changes it causes to the artist as a person and how the whole experience teaches them and defines their overall outlook on life and everything.
I also love reading about the attitudes and philosophies that they stand for. These people are autonomous men who think on their own feet. While influences from others are apparent, they don’t actually seek for endorsement from others since they truly believe in themselves. For so long, this has been my ultimate hope of my upcoming adulthood. I desperately ache to change. I want to be the guy in the future who, when he meets my 23 year-old self, would be ashamed that he knows me at all. I want him to shake my 23 year-old self and scream at my face ruthlessly, “What the hell are you doing!?”.
At this point, my lifestyle is the direct opposite of sophistication. I am not social person, I don’t read, I haven’t got my finger on the pulse of the world and I don’t think much except for morbid destructive things. In short, I am a little useless sad guy who resides in the lowest and furthest rank possible from successful touring musicians. Even if they just happen to have an interesting job and are actually ordinary people with their own everyday ups and downs.
Like a kid wishing to be their favourite superhero, I really like to live these people’s lives. At such time when (for undisclosed reasons) I feel my life has already been dragged to a halt before it commences, I feel the need to daydream about something real that someone else is experiencing at this very moment. Being a touring rockstar is certainly not a fairy tale and this resonates with me. The interesting eventful life is something that I wish for but on the other hand, the frustrations and hopelessness that they can’t escape reminds me that my own frustrations and hopelessness might not be exclusive to me.
I’ve seen your secrets. I wish I’ve never dug them out.
I’m trying so hard each day not to resort to hate since I can’t bear regretting it later. Yet, I could not muster another feeling for you. I am confused. Should I put on an endearing smile as if everything is alright? Should I keep on looking for the bright side of things and ignore everything that lurks in the shadows? Or should I not think or feel at all and just accept things as they are?
I don’t know. You tell me. You’re supposed to be the one with the plan. It’s just hard to believe that desperation has actually been a part of the plan all along. You’re supposed to be the example for me. It’s just hard to accept that all that I should be is everything that you’re not. You're supposed to be many things that you're not. So, you tell me.
How I wish that you’d tell me. I believe I am man enough to face the truth, no matter how ugly it is and no matter how it contradicts each aspect of what I have been picturing my past, present and future to be. I’m strong enough to overlook told lies and receive the hidden reality. I’ve grown and am ready enough to find that my whole life so far has only been the sweet and colourful icing of a rotten moldy cake. I’m well-prepared to see that my future will not be bathed in shiny sunlight as I have hoped it will be. I’m strong enough to discover that this bullshit is endless.
But I’m too frail to find out from anyone but you yourself.
