Those are the words of my dear friend, Trey.  Trey & I bounce our thoughts off one another a lot.  Comparing our life notes.  He’s probably my most trusted confidant.  Wait, he’s also my attorney–when/if needed–so I guess that’s a good thing!  His description today was brilliant (IMO) and it had me wondering what people would do if they actually knew what we thought of them.  If it were harder to lie or hide, would we we be happier or would we only be hurt continually?  If we found there were patterns about us, would we change?  I highly doubt the subject of mine & Trey’s conversation would describe themselves as such in a million years.  Or would they?  Would they even guess it was them?!?! LOL if anyone actually reads this–& according to stats there are only a couple of you–if you think you could be the mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma you just ask & I’ll honestly tell you yes or no. 😀

On another note, Sordid Lives cannot come soon enough.  I know that once I get into rehearsals 4 nights a week and weekend scavenger hunts for props I will be exhausted.  And by show dates, I will be ready for the cast party & strike! But…until then I anticipate the days when I can start watching the magic come together.  I love free time.  But I have an awful habit of being lazy and gaining weight when I’m not occupied with activity.  I chastise this part of myself severely day in & day out.  I realize the only thing stopping me from having everything I wanted in the world is me.  I know this because never have I put my mind to something and failed.  When my mind & my heart are in sync and motivation is high, I’m like a fire out of control.  That has its undeniable pleasures but also means I can be stubborn and unreasonable.  I’ve had to learn some things must be dropped for the sanity of myself & those I love.  And I have also learned that when I make that decision to let it go I must own it.  It’s always my decision to either follow or deny my passions.  Perhaps the greatest lesson of all is that when my passion means losing someone, that person wasn’t meant to go any farther on the journey with me.  And my greatest fear is that I will end up chasing my passions and dreams and succeed and then end up alone.

Do I know too much or too little?  If I know that success is nothing without people who love you… and I don’t want to go all the way only to look around and be alone… am I wise to gauge my passion and reign myself in and not dive in so deep no one can catch up?  Or, am I delusional & simply convincing myself there are reasons to be lazy?  Cause there’s lots of good reasons to push people aside and chase that dream but there’s also the thought that if I actually made it I would look around and have no one to share it with.  For me, that would be devastating.  I’d be a hot mess.  I know myself so incredibly well that I know that much.  Or would I just chase the next creative thought down until it came to fruition and die happy with myself?

So while that’s my greatest fear, my greatest hope is that I can both create success and share it.  I want more but I stop myself because I’m scared of the cost.  Which will immediately stop today because I realize–now that I’ve gotten to the end of this blog–if I am not happy and I’m not pursuing my own interests, I’ll make someone miserable.  It’s all about balancing isn’t it?

Wow, I kinda lost myself a couple times in that extended thought.  I apologize if that makes zero sense.  Well, you can take one thought away from this blog–she’s as messed up as I thought she was 🙂

So, it dawns on me (hahaha it’s 5:59am & I’m just getting to bed) that it is Independence Day.  I realize I should be more patriotic, but I’m just not feeling it this year.  In fact, at this moment I’d be willing to travel elsewhere so that maybe I will actually appreciate my country more these days.  Humans, I can’t live with them & can’t live without them. Eh.  The thought did strike me on my drive home that I should celebrate my own independence today.  I’m often referred to as an independent gal.  I’m not sure that is always complimentary, but I see how much truth lies in it.  I live alone (albeit not for much longer), I have a career that was self-made, I am not afraid to go out and try new things, I’ll travel anywhere in the world alone, I make tons of decisions daily without consulting anyone or anything.  I guess I do live a pretty independent life.

Not to harp on it more than I already do but some of that independence is circumstance and not personality.  I mean, who exactly would it be that I would depend on?  I’m alone.  I am forced to be independent.  At times it feels like solitary confinement.  Unfortunately, this puts me in the position to have one person to worry about, to examine, and to judge.  The more time that passes the more I desire for there to be a partner, someone who I can put a little energy towards and take me out of the spotlight a little.  Perhaps some children that can totally ruin all this independence.  😉  Until then, the only subject under my mind’s microscope is me.  Apryl.me.  I reckon I am severely harsh on myself.  With no one else to blame or meter, I’m constantly finding my own mistakes.  And, it feels, overly so.

What’s the Socrates quote, “the unexamined life is not worth living?”  Heh, well I have to now ask, is the overly-examined life worth living?  It’s starting to get ridiculous.  Such as, I saw a friend was online when I logged into FB.  Then, less than a minute later, she went offline and I was thinking, “Oh man, did she see me come online and didn’t want to chat so she went offline?”  And that’s when I knew I was an over-thinker.  Because, let’s say this is exactly why my friend went offline–to avoid me, who the fuck cares?  Did I log in to chat with her? Nope.  Did I have anything significant that she needed to know?  No, that’s why I text.  Or send a FB message that can be read later.  And finally, it’s a tad narcissistic and psycho to even go down that road in my head in the first place.  And I do this to myself all the time.  I’ll be walking and tell myself this nail polish really makes my toes look longer than they already do.  I will constantly wonder what’s wrong with me or find an imperfection to ponder.

Today, I am relieving myself of this self-imposed duty.  I am becoming independent of the scrutiny.  I am going to try to do it one day.  I’m sure my natural thought flow will lead me down that path but I have the freedom to choose another thought, and I’m exercising it.

Happy Independence Day!

I’m bloggin’ in my black broom skirt.  Members of the “Coven” -as we’re affectionately known- understand this means it’s about to get serious, yo.  Today’s mystery is the labeling that goes on in the music industry.  Post-punk set me off.  I mean, what IS that supposed to mean?!  Was every other adjective in the dictionary unavailable the day someone repeated it.  I’ll give the original user that we all have bad days and sometimes the creativity is turned to 0.  But for someone to repeat it as if it held authority?  Well, that’s just lame.  If you want to build a set of rules & restrictions around musicians, at least find something fitting.  Grunge?  I mean, we didn’t know what that was in Sherman, TX in 1991.  Quickly we learned and at least it’s something descriptive.  It’s unique.  Post-punk makes music sound like architecture.  While I enjoy architecture, I need my music to sound, well, like music.

And what musician wants to be labeled?  Let’s say Joe Dirt says, “I want to be the best country star in America!” then doesn’t he, by definition, then limit himself?  Garth Brooks–not my favorite all-time musician but I have been known to have a few Coors and find myself digging some Low Places or wailing “bring me two pina coladas”.  Say that man had limited himself in his own mind.  Would he have crossed the pop boundaries? became a superstar? changed country music?  I don’t know.  As a writer, I cannot allow myself to pick one avenue of a defined genre and call myself that particular type of writer.  I have on more than one occasion suggested it to myself and when I do it’s like the circuits break.  I cannot narrow my tastes, no matter how well intentioned I am, because it seems to cause me grief.  If it’s non-fiction I tell myself to sit down & ponder, than I feel like I have to kill the creativity and nonsense that fiction elements bring into my writing.  I cannot do that.  If I try to write poetry intentionally, I find myself looking like an idiot, staring into space.  I’d think musicians (for the most part) do not work well within the confines of traditional labels.

I don’t even know why the use of post-punk set me into a blog but it did.  Perhaps it’s because I hate molds and labels in general?  I find labels useful in certain circumstances.  Ex: He didn’t call when he said he would?  Obviously, he’s a douchebag.  File him in category: DB.  I suppose that’s a coping trait and I’m sure if I googled “psychology behind labels” I would find answers as to why most humans like to label things.  It’s obviously not because I’m a disorganized pack rat that I break free in my own mind from them.  I use them, I need them.  Just like everyone else.  I just do not like overuse. Especially in music.  Music is a passion and to label something is to say with authority that you know or have ability to put the writer where he/she belongs or understand where the piece comes from.  No, you don’t. 

An exception should be when the musician labels the piece.  Musicians are oftentimes forced to place labels on their creation, sadly.  As if the label of “rock” or “alternative” or “metal” will define if we like it or not.  I give more credit to people who take the time to conjure up a description of the sound and don’t try to place music in a box.  Music, for the most part, is outside the box.  Not always, but I admit that I really did like Britney Spears “Toxic” at one time.  Please, judge me.

In my mind, music–like people–either does something for you or does not; is good for you or is not.  Get a thesaurus and tell me what I really want to know about music. 

-post-Apryl