I’ve lost the ability to write. Every next word plagues me. Every possible great line eludes me. At what point does one realize they reach this impasse? Maybe it happens to everyone that attempts to write something great. I find inspiration around no corners. I feel I am not qualified enough to even string words together any more. Charlotte and her web could spin better stories than me. I guess I will just tell it how it is.
I am out of college, jobless, and living with my parents. Doesn’t that sound like the magic three of death? I have no girlfriend. I used to think I knew what love was all about. I currently know not. I don’t think I know how to truly connect with someone. Maybe my future soul mate will knock on my front door tomorrow. Nope. I need out of HERE.
Somewhere … anywhere … is where I would go besides HERE. No money, and no financially stable reason to pack my bags, drive, and stop when the tank runs out. It's sad that those are what keep me stuck HERE. I need some excitement. I want to wake up scared looking for adventure. During school I longed for those summer days to arrive when I could wake up at noon and have Cheerios for breakfast while deciding what I would do for the day; however, with no purpose comes no pleasure. Now that they're HERE, I’m tired of not being tired. I have more fun with my eyes wide shut scoring the winning World Cup goal or stealing penguins from the zoo than I do HERE. Currently “fun” consists of watching shows like House, The Big Bang Theory, and South Park to escape from HERE. New episodes are running low. I’m like House with his Vicodin addiction. It’s only so long before I need to find my next fix. Enter music.
I restrung my guitars last week. Dusting off the fretboards underneath the tired strings, I envisioned being rich and famous from the songs I would write and play for fans. Everyone that plays guitar dreams those dreams. If you can write something that cuts to the damned truth, people will listen. It’s about relating to your listeners, and I think I’ve forgotten that, because I can’t even relate to myself now. I am self-conscious about my voice. I think people don’t like it, because I don’t like it. Some days, I wish my parents would tell me they like the sound of the song I’m playing on piano or the guitar. Oh well. Maybe they don’t realize that most of the things I play are the things I’ve written. I want to make my own recordings and make them phenomenal, not just good. Music is my love. Too bad I can’t find the words to tell her how I feel. If writer's block only had a medical diagnosis and prescription treatment. Unfortunately, it's called 'a whole lotta life.' When I write and sing, I want to put my heart out there, but I'm scared of what the world will spit back at me. I need to start being real. Or at least learning what that means.
I wish I could meet and get to know someone new everyday. Listen to their story. Share a beer and an afternoon. Chat about politics, love, and music on our iPods and iWhatevers. I want to fall in love with connecting with people. I want to believe that I can fall in love ... honest love.
I think I need to find me first. Pancakes, puzzles, and pizza rolls. Should I change? Do people ever change? Or are we just too afraid to try? I’d rather fail every day at something new than be content with the everyday failure called routine. Right now I don’t feel home. I need to break my routine. Maybe I’ll start a blog.
I'm never sure how to comment on people's blogs. You know, you throw your thoughts out there hoping someone will reply, and yet, I'm truly afraid of people actually replying.
ReplyDeleteConfession: I watched full sagas of, dare I say, America's Next Top Model when I graduated. I worked for my parent for a year. I cried..not just cried...sobbed most nights in my bed, because all my friends were having crazy adventures, and I was living in the room where I grew-up. I felt alone, and like the only person in the world that ever had to deal with eating stale cheetos out of a coffee cup.
I guess I comment to tell people they are not alone. I comment to tell you that you are not alone. I comment, because I lost 10 pounds when I graduated from stress (and I thought it was suppose to be the other way around.) Nobody ever tells you the post-college realities. Where are all the people to tell you graduation is not a magical land of adventure, but a hard road of knocks and scrapes and bruises. I'll tell you where they are, they are sitting in their basement making their way through episode after episode of ..., because it's easier to numb your body than to deal with reality or the truth hidden in your soul.
I was there. I was there for 2 years. I dropped everything and moved to Chicago with no money and no job. But, I was alone there, too. I applied to job after job and found nothing. I voluntered at camps for weeks on end. And, nobody ever told me it was normal. Nobody ever sat me down and told me the hardest thing they ever had to do was get up. Because the people that have been through it, want to forget it. And the people you actually talk to, are out of the funk by now or don't even remember it happened.
Here is the truth. It doesn't last! You are not going to be in your parents house forever. You are not going to die a slow death on the coach. You are going to live. You are going to ski down mountains, and teach kids English. You have not been created to watch episodes of House. You are designed for more. AND, I know the amazing talents you posses. I tell your sister all the time how everytime I see what you do, I'm blown away. (I'm not even kidding about starting a band.)
You don't need to have it figured out. You don't even need to know what should happen next. You don't need to do anything to advance your career or figure out life's journey. You just need to LIVE. Breathe in and out. You haven't lost yourself. And if you feel like you have, you will find yourself again. You are a lover of life. You are adventurous. You are an artist. You love people and speak truth into their lives. Your heart is gracious towards those in need. Your family is important to you. You give your friends courage. You are not lost. You just graduated and you are now in the world called...LIMBO. AND IT IS THE HARDEST CULTURE TO UNDERSTAND AND ADAPT TO.
I know their are a lot of options. Believe me I've tried them all. (I even considered interning at a camp in the U.P. in MID-JANUARY...yeah) I know maybe the options feel overwhelming. Or, maybe your body even feels numb to the options. Maybe you don't even care. Your body is lost in apathy. NORMAL. Heart aching, Gut wrenching...NORMAL.
BUT, Here is my deepest, hear-beating, mantra for you RYAND DANIEL BISHOP. My desire is for you to live. For you to rest in the freedom that whatever you do, is the right choice. And you will walk upright in beautiful, resonating songs of Celebration once again.
Just know that the feelings, emotions, thoughts of chaos blowing around in your mind are not crazy. I was just there a year ago. And I can tell you, my heart felt like it would never beat fully again, but it did.
A fellow NES Addict