Disillusionment is a Bitch


Why am I being so down on myself so often and why do I keep putting out messages and status posts of non-belief in myself? The short answer: Because I don’t. I don’t think, I can do it. Sorry. But I think I have reasons that go beyond just making excuses. Because I hate it too when people go on making excuses and exploiting you emotionally. That’s the last kind of behaviour I’d want to mimick.

But let’s back up for a sec: Amanda Palmer very impressively does the math in plain English for her existing and potential supporters on Kickstarter and explains, where a seemingly large amount of money actually goes. She is someone, who has been there, as she claims, working for and in the corridors of the powers that be in the music business. I spared myself the usual cross-checking, because I don’t think, a notorious liar would go at such lengths in presenting the public with a pretty elaborate forecast. (plus, the notorious liar will most likely lack all the info that was needed to put it together in the first place). Hallmarks of this calculation: Amanda fronted 250,000$ before launching her Kickstarter-campaign. And she breaks it all down quite comprehensively, I think. My point? If you want to be serious, this is how it’s done. Without having been there myself, but from keeping my eyes and ears open and absorbing all info I could possibly reel in, I agree with her. The key message in her blog being: “but to do this the way i knew it needed to be done, that was just a bet i had to take against myself.” Which brings us back to faith. Of which I have none in myself, despite a nice number of friends having consistently reassured me of in the past 3+ years. It’s just a fact: My history always comes down to me thinking this of myself: “You’re a piece of shit, better believe it.” I’m not pointing fingers, I’m not blame-shifting, I’m just reporting. Now – I know we get to make new and better choices for ourselves. Or leave behind what doesn’t serve us anymore as some say. How so, how do I know then? Because that is what I decided for myself and put into action as a young twen. I went there and made a living playing music. At least for some time, until I realized that the texture of my dream had been different and that there was no indication that I’d get any closer while being on the path I was on back then. So I put it down, but never all away, and after some additional hitting my head against walls I embarked on a more conventional path – the possible outcomes of which I … sank as well in 2007. And now? I’m completely stranded in life, fallen flat on my face, all savings exhausted and any other fall back scenarios thoroughly shattered, whatever courage I more or less fabricated from thin air driven through the meatgrinder and fed to the dogs. This is where I’m not only standing, this is where I find myself time and again and then some. I used to always bounce back when I was younger. But I don’t see nor feel how this can happen again for the gazillionth time.

Surely, there’s always something to take away and learn from almost every situation – maybe minus terminal illness or that sort of thing, without coming across like a cynic. So what I’m taking away is this: I don’t really want to do this, not the way Amanda did, not the way many other aspiring or established artist friends do and did it. In earlier years, I always thought I’d be too afraid of the meager lifestyle in making it happen. Ha! Guess what? I’m reduced to 150$ per month for all vital necessities, so we can rule out that fear, because I’m now living it day in, day out. You don’t get to socialize much on 150$ per month, unless you keep bugging people out – which I really, really don’t want to do. It’d feel like driving nails in my coffin to build myself a reputation of a full time mooch. No, thanks. So, when I look at myself and this attempt of coming back to music in one or the other way, I have to admit to myself that I don’t want to do any of the things I’ve done in earlier years, which I talked myself into believing they’d build bridges to where I really wanted to go or be. And the places where I’d like to see myself in – I don’t have the training for, history of or access to. And no longer enough means and willpower to knock on doors or knock down doors, either. Which would start by attending all the sessions I get invited to in the city. Can’t happen, as I can’t afford transportation and more importantly as I rarely muster the courage to overcome my insecurities that run all the way to the core of my being – or which actually are the core of my being. (I think I can see a few readers going “Doh!” – LOL ;))

I’ve given it a try with everything I got. Not only with this, but with many other situations in life. I’ve met challenges head on, I’ve pulled myself back together countless times – as we all do. This much I think I can say. I did. And on top if it, I have sacrificed like most artists do along the way (many don’t need to, though – which fuelled my determination earlier in life to “show them right”, all those full time daughters and sons some of whom didn’t have too much more to do than just show up). I did. But I’m not a martyr or masochist. All I really want is … a safe place and to have a very modest, simple life back with real people in it. And even there… given my make, I’m lightyears away from.

Sorry. (Does apologizing equal making excuses…?)

wesbound, May 2012

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