Some things I would like to accomplish before I expire

In no particular order:

1. Take all these ideas in my head for songs and actually create one.

2. Sing in front of people. I can barely sing in front of my wife.

3. Write an actual good short story.

4. Manage my depression better.

5. Manage my social anxiety so that I can leave the house without thinking that everyone is watching me.

6. Be the husband my wife deserves.

7. Be the stepfather my stepson deserves.

8. Become fluent in the vocabulary of the guitar.

9. Learn the basics of bass guitar.

10. Become a better keyboard player.

11. Find a drummer.

12. Write an album’s worth of material by myself.

13. Show the world finally what I have always thought myself capable of.

14. Forgive.




Do you disappear into the music you are listening to? Whatever I am listening to, I become part of. It will affect my mood, sometimes powerfully so. I am not a good person to listen to music with, because I take it more serious than it should be. It’s my art. There are so many songs that have attached meaning for me, it’s near impossible to not have a strong emotional reaction when I hear them. I am sure that my wife suspects I am truly crazy sometimes, because I will be listening to a song, and a switch will go off, and I will be talking with her, tears in my eyes, about events that happened lifetimes ago. I can’t be the only one that experiences this, can I? I am almost always overwhelmed with incredible sadness, because of course the music always stirs up some sort of past trauma, regret, death, etc. Even a happy moment will usually be looked upon with sadness later, because that moment is gone. Shit, even everything I write isn’t exactly brimming with positivity. Maybe a shower would make me feel better. A walk outside in the sun. With my music…

Poems are hard. Lyrics are easy.

I have this old composition book from 10 years ago that is partially filled with some really awful “poetry.” Don’t worry, I will spare you all the melodramatic pining fit for a high school student. Looking back on them this morning, though, made me realize how I can never be a poet. I am OK with this. When I was writing these emotions down, and that’s really all it was, raw emotion, I didn’t have a true concept about what poetry was. A good poem makes you think; you might never actually know what the hell is going on between those spaces. You will have an inkling, but almost never the full picture, because a good poem never reveals the whole secret. Of course, this is only my opinion. I will just stick to blogs, and extremely short stories. I will admit, however, that some of the entries within that book would sound great with some music behind them. That, is something I can do.

Scrapes and bruises.

My colitis is getting worse. Of course, that means I should make an appointment with the specialist, and probably go back on a steroid treatment. I won’t, though, because I don’t want to be on fucking steroids. My depression and anxiety are at all time highs. I’ve never felt so worthless. Those of you who suffer from something similar I am sure can relate. I feel horrible for my wife, because she desperately wants to help me, but there really is nothing to be done. Should I see someone? Perhaps; however, treatment has never worked for me, unless it was alcohol. Which, is not a good solution, and as a matter of fact, I have decided to stop my drinking for awhile, or at least stop at 1 beer. Can I do this? Yes. Will it be hard? Oh, very hard, indeed. I have never weighed more in my life than I do at this moment. I have to take an anti-anxiety pill just to leave the house; I haven’t even taken a walk in weeks because I don’t want people looking at me. Isn’t that ridiculous? Of course it is ridiculous! I am self-aware enough to realize the problems that I face are all, well, self-created, but I am utterly powerless at the moment to help myself. I don’t talk about it that much in a public forum because I don’t like to sound whiny, but I realize that this is no different from cancer, really. It’s a life long struggle, isn’t it? Maybe someone will read this and think, hey! I feel the same way as this person; I am not alone.

I suppose I really should take a shower, and go for a walk outside. It really is beautiful out today.