Dying to just feel anything.

A lot of people fill the space with love, religion, family  or friends. I fill it with music. I’m a meter of happiness, which slowly depreciates the longer I’m away from music. I forget that sometimes too, like last night. I was sitting at home, calling up friends to see if anyone wanted to hang out. No one was available. I was feeling incredibly despondent and lonely. I needed to ride down to the office to pick up a few things so I just decided to go. I flipped on the radio and listened to a bit of tunes on the way; by the time I was there (5 minutes up the road) I was feeling better. When I got home I went at the piano and ended up having a great night.

People strive for meaning in their life; they seek it out so they can find the thing that will help make their lives worth living. Imagine if you’ve found that something. Would you easily let it go just because it was hard to obtain. Would you drop it because your girlfriend/wife, family, or friends told you not to pursue it? If you do, you’re doomed…or at least I believe you are.

I recently graduated from college. Leading up to it I felt a growing sense of relief (naturally). I felt that my life would expand up to 8 lanes of an open road of possibilities. Well I’m only two months outside of my graduation and the drudgery of working through a job I don’t like is already setting in.

Do people do this their whole lives? Do people really work these jobs with nothing but retirement to look forward? Well, as a 24 year old, the prospect of working just to obtain a cash flow seems like a pointless waste of life.

It’s comically sad for musicians though. Imagine all the other things a musician could be passionate about and love to do but instead they are in love with one of the hardest career paths. Would have been nice to be in love with finances, or real estate. I have incredible respect for over the hill musicians who still “haven’t made it”. They’ve been grinding it out for decades and they’re still doing it for almost nothing and that takes some real love.

It sometimes feels easy to just say, “Screw it” and go get a full time job in some cubicle. I wouldn’t have to decide between going out for a beer and paying rent. Then there’s a sudden choking in my gut, and constriction in my lungs; my breath escaping. I’m fated with that feeling unless I relentless pursue, pursue, pursue.

I don’t think I’d change that either. What kind of life is one without a passion

—-