When will you start supporting me? (or, what every one of your creative friends, siblings, or loved ones want to say to you, but doesn’t feel right asking of you.)

So, it’s been a bit. But I’ve been writing entries on my handy dandy smart cellular device while I can’t get to a computer. This is something I had been working on since my last post.

I would first like to preface this entry with love and adoration, so much of it. I appreciate everything for what it is and the gestures that come with everything and everyone. The good, the bad, the upsetting, the mediocre at best. I believe with every ugly occasion in life there is a beautiful one, waiting right around some metaphorical corner. If you are waiting with open arms, eyes, and heart- that moment will find you.You have to be ready and willing to receive it though. You need to know you’ll see through your current storm. It’s not being spiritual, it’s not being religious, or hokey. It’s just being. Life will go on regardless of the hissy fit you choose to have. You might as well buckle down, do some thinking, take some action, and be open to whatever comes your way. With open arms you can catch a ball someone throws at you. With closed arms, you’re me in high school circa sophomore year getting beamed in the head by a kickball for being an uncooperative, negative nancy.

For these storms, the universe has given us one of the greatest gifts and at times, very helpful tools- like minds that understand where we are coming from and further more, where we want to be heading. As independent as I try to be, as strong as I like to portray myself… I’m so terribly thankful for the people that I know I can fall back on when my head needs a good straightening out.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy everything about it. The release, making at least one person feel something; any sort of emotion, the picking apart of every paragraph or stanza, reading page after page again and again until I am satisfied. I would go as far as to say I love writing more than most of the other nouns that I have feels for. I dont know how else to express this or prove it other than continuing to write. I hope with every bit of my silly heart and my numb head that I don’t lose the desire to write again. It makes me comfortable, at home when i’m not, it just feels right.

I have a friend who is constantly traveling like a boomerang; a three day stint in new york, a show back home, a free show in connecticut, another gig back home, a day to rest (just kidding, he’s in a studio, shut away in his room writing, networking), and then the weekend again somehow- more shows, more music, more writing. All on top of working an everyday job like the rest of us. And he’s been doing this hectic shit for longer than I’ve known him. This is his life and I came into it a bit late, but from what I’ve seen- I know very few people that work as hard as he does, gets the normal let downs anyone does trying to make something of themselves, and continues to be so goddamn thankful for his successes that I pale in comparison. His dedication to what he does and how he wants his future to pan out makes me blush because he has me convinced. I am hardly ever convinced of much, so this feeling is new- but it makes me so glad to know him.

That all being said, I haven’t been to a single one of his shows and I would feel bad (and most times I actually do…), but I try not to. I’m a shut in. I would rather stay inside with the plan to eat for free, organize my compact disc collection, and end the night by curling up with my girl Netflix. I think he knows this, I think some nights he would prefer to do the same. Because of this mutual understanding, there’s a respect, and because that respect exists and he doesn’t hate my guts for my shortcomings- I try harder in other ways.

For my former facebook friends- I have annihilated your news feed countless times in the name of our friendship and supporting him. I have repeatedly posted his videos, I’ve posted fliers on my instagram, I’ve done some interwebs foot work because I wanted to. I’m not sorry if you were ever annoyed and i’ll happily tell you why-

Someone fucking has to.
Maybe if you see it enough you’d start taking the three second to share it as well, or even listen to it. Because it is a song after-all and most of you are plugged in all day anyway.

When i’m in California in two weeks, i’m defacing public property with stickers. When his shirts come in? i’m buying one. And when another cd is made? I’ll purchase it, just as I did the first one because this is how I know how to help. because he’s my friend and if he gives up on his dreams due to lack of support after he has already taught me a shitton about myself, i’m not going to be part of the problem. I’m going to do what I can because I don’t want to see that happen. I ask about his schedule, I ask about shows he’s performed, for fucks sake- I show some goddamn interest. I act like I care because I DO care. It’s not just enough to say it.

I’m familiar to the burn that comes with your family and friends not showing an ounce of interest. If the people that love and care about you don’t give a fuck then who will? Luckily, for him, a copious amount of people now- because he’s doing fairly well for himself. It’s nice to see after so many stories of crapshoot shows and disappointing bullshit.

But right- I’m trying to explain the pain that comes with having a creative mind and wanting to share with those that you want to care, that just don’t. Or don’t show it. Or express it. Or feel the need to tell you that they even read it, listened to it, watched it.

Being brave isn’t a concept that goes away at thirteen when you retrieve your step dads signed Babe Ruth baseball from the junkyard dogs territory, finally. As an adult, it’s just as scary. You have to make yourself vulnerable first to then be brave. And would you believe it, we do that by putting ourselves out there for the whole teeth gnashing world to see in hopes they don’t chew up our feelings and spit them back into our tired faces. We put ourselves on display because we don’t know how else to share our feelings- we would, at the least, appreciate some hands to fall back on.

I mentioned earlier my love for writing and then slipped directly into a story of my friend. It was for a reason. I’ve only recently started actually feeling supported by a handful of people and i’m so thankful for that. However there are still five people I can think of right off that I wish gave a single shit about anything that I write down. Wah wah, boo hoo. I know, but it’s hard man. I dont care what anyone says, when you’re proud of something enough to talk about it- you want the ones you care about to be interested and just as excited as you are.

I could prattle on, but I’ve babbled for a bit and my head hurts. I have no idea if I’ve made any sort of point here and It’s Halloween. Somewhere between the start of this post and now, I’ve received that shirt from my friend and it fits perfectly. I really hope you, the reader that got to the end of this, understand what i’m trying to get at. If you have time to be on facebook, on instagram, watching television, stuffing your face- read your friends stories, listen to their music, look at their sketches, give then feedback, buy their cd’s, watch their videos, go to their shows, put their stickers everywhere, wear their shirts, share their recordings, just do something. Because ANYTHING you do will mean the world to them.

I bet you.

Here is where I shamelessly plug things that are made by people I love-
Joey B – https://soundcloud.com/joeyb978
Josh – https://soundcloud.com/saint_laurent-1
Lauren – http://www.ebay.com/usr/lulu-art-attack
Seth – http://www.sethbalestrieri.com/

I updated my creative nonsense. The  more short stories page got a new little ditty. With that being said, I’ve got some Futurama to watch.

Support your friends.
Over and out.


2 thoughts on “When will you start supporting me? (or, what every one of your creative friends, siblings, or loved ones want to say to you, but doesn’t feel right asking of you.)

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