This morning I woke up with a raging monsoon in my head. My brain was refried mush trampled upon by hundreds of angry goats and I only had myself and the beauty of alcohol to blame. I had fun last night. I ventured to a couple of bars, enjoyed the company of close friends and stayed out nearly late enough to view the sunrise. But at what cost? I began my day grumpy, dehydrated, and in pain and I had one question on my mind: am I getting too old for this?
Youth is fleeting. We move energetically from childhood to pubescence to adolescence and then something stops. The engine starts sputtering, the hinges creak and our smiles dim a bit. That spark that flew swiftly towards dreams and goals and future falls dully. We start to have regrets, real regrets. Why didn't I get my degree when it made sense? Why did I set fire to so many brain cells before my mind had completely formed? Why didn't I try? And then, looming behind every true regret: fear.
When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark. I remember having to be in one lit room while I wrapped my stumpy little arm around the corner into the adjacent room to turn off that room's light. I physically couldn't be in a room at night with the lights off unless I was tucked neatly into my bed, with all corners of my room in vision. I remember a sense of pride when I didn't have to use a night light. It was embarrassing, really. To be nine or ten years old and still be deathly afraid of something so commonplace. Growing up in Vermont, especially during the winter, I couldn't escape the dark. It was an omnipresent specter waiting to steal any dignity I had. Afraid of the dark....what a cliche. I thought about that fear this morning and how real it seemed and how trivial it seems now.
Today, my greatest fear is being a waste. A waste of an artist. A waste of a father. A waste of a son. A waste of space. It's such a complex fear that when I begin to think of it, begin to seriously wrap my thick head around it, the fear springs out into infinite branches going in impossibly morose directions. Just an endless maelstrom of prongs, each one turning 'future me' into more and more of a sad sack. I end up feeling sorry for 'future me'. What did he do to deserve it? But the question is what am I doing now to fuck over 'future me'. He didn't do anything wrong. I have to do something NOW so that poor guy doesn't get the shaft!
It's thinking like this that inspired me to get my head out of my ass and move to Los Angeles to be near my daughter. At least I know that whatever else happens with my music or writing or acting, I'll have given 150% at being a dad. I can automatically cross off one of my fears. I won't be a waste of a father. I'm committing fully to something and that's kind of exciting. Am I afraid of this move? Oohhhh you betcha! I'm still afraid of being a waste in every other aspect, but I'm not letting this fear debilitate me the way it has in the past. I got over my fear of the dark and became a generally well adjusted adult(!). This is the same fear in a different cloak and maybe I can conquer that too.
I started writing this several hours ago and at that point in time, the thought of alcohol was cringeworthy. By this hour? I sure could go for a beer. Guess some habits are harder to kill than others.
Oh well. Here's to growing up!
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