Even in Arcadia you walk beside me still

I've been thinking alot about anonymous bands and why this is and isn't a great idea. I imagine that the absolute freedom that would come with wearing a mask or costume on stage would be completely freeing. Especially if nobody knows your identity. Do they love it? Great. Do they hate it? Oh well, it's not personal.
On this surface level, it seems brilliant, doesn't it? You can still live a normal life in one respect and have your potentially high-profile life be seperate because nobody knows that you are them.
As I said, on a surface level, that seems brilliant. But, if we get a little deeper, what about the rest of the story? What about when you start to become more well-known, and you still can't take the mask off and show the crowd who you really are. What about the part when everyone is relating to you in this parasocial relationship, and loving you, and buying all your shit, and they can't even see your face. Do you owe them anything? Of course not. But I'd imagine it would keep a sane person up at night with guilt from time to time.
Or maybe it doesn't make you guilty but maybe it makes you wonder if they would even still love you if you did take off the mask. Or maybe you're completely overwhelmed with the idea of the mask and you want to show everyone who you are - but how will you dance? How will you cry in front of thousands of people? How will you sing, when everyone can truly see you? How can you even explain that it's impossible to be your absolute complete self when they can truly see you? How can you explain that you need the mask to feel safe but the mask has now become what people think of when they think of you.
Maybe you're just sick of hiding, sick of not being able to go where you want and do what you want in fear of being found out. Or perhaps you just live in quiet fear of the day that it all breaks apart.
Maybe you have been studying music and trying for years and years to break into the music scene, and finally, here you are, and it's as if you have tape on your mouth now. Maybe you feel like you have created your own hell because you want to be free but then everything will be different.
I can't imagine what it must be like as you get more popular, and win awards and bigger venues and not be able to thank people with your voice.

I can only speculate, and I know many bands have done this in my time, some have come out and some still haven't and some never did and are long gone now. One thing I can certainly relate to though, is to dig deep into your soul and find your deepest and darkest demons, and turn that into music that some people will turn their nose up at, and passionately perform that at an arena or stadium or festival... I would want to be wearing a mask, too.

Chokehold

I haven't written in a month. Again. I am just using this as an exercise to free-write before I get back into my novel. It's been almost a month since I last contributed to it. I'm 63% of the way to my word-count goal. The only reason that I have a wordcount goal is that I know that I will end up under-writing it if I don't give myself a limit to reach for. I already know that I have so many plot holes and so many unexplained parts that need to be sorted out, and knowing me, I would probably just end up giving up if I didn't have some sort of end goal to reach. If the end goal is too open, too flexible, I won't get there. I just know myself. At 34, I have luckily learned from my quirks and short-comings - I don't expect to be able to change these things after all this time, however I can definately ride the wave by recognising my own signs. I feel like I was never really very good at that when I was younger. I used to just sort of go "oh, well, it is what it is, I am what I am, that's how it goes". I knew then that I knew myself and I couldn't change very easily - but once I got older I did start to realise that you can always recognise your own patterns and stop it in it's tracks. Life has been... busy. Full time work including a promotion, study, class, assignments, writing my novel and a new full-blown hobby of caring for and propogating houseplants. Imposter syndrome is pretty real for me at the moment, as far as work goes, but I've been trying my best to ignore it. I feel like I really don't even know what I'm doing but I am certainly trying. That's what matters, right? I like to believe so. I've had a circumstance of some people trying to tear me down, and that was quite a difficult thing to deal with for a while there. I just don't understand some people's thought pattern sometimes. I just want to make a good life for myself and my partner. Isn't that what we all want, ultimately? I am genuinely quite happy with my life at the moment. There are some pretty major things bubbling beneath the surface that is coming up regularly, but they are being worked on. I am trying to be understanding and forgiving, but I really am sick of riding the rollercoaster of deciet and lies. I know that the lies don't come from a place of malice, but it's bloody hard to fight your brain when it knows better, but wishes it didn't. I hope that this time round, something really will change.

If You Keep Losing Sleep

I want to talk about individualism and change in humans. However, I want to start with mentioning an interview discussion between one of my favourite artists and another incredibly talented artist talking about the future of music. The future of music is something that I can't say I have given alot of thought to - I have always kind of lived in the past with music, in the way that I see it progress and change, but I don't really have much of a history of going along with it. It's a shame really, I do wish that I was more progressive with my musical tastes and interests, but I do find it difficult to sway too far from the "genres" of music that I grew up with and resonate with most.
In the conversation between these two artists, they discussed the "old days", so to speak, of when if you had a particular interest in a band, the way people would know about it would basically be only if you spoke to them about it, or if they came to your house and saw the posters on your wall. These days, if you like a band or an artist or a group of any kind, then it kind of becomes your personality, and you can delare that to the world if you so please, via social media. Social media has allowed us to be individuals in a way that nothing ever has before - all the algorithms that are created from what we watch and click, and suddenly we have this app on our phones that is feeding us advertisements and content that we are, as an individual, interested in. If you handed your phone to somebody else, and they scrolled through your Shorts, it would not be as captivating to them as it is for you, because it was created for you and by you.
Only 20 years ago, we all sat around in the living room and we all watched one screen, and we were all encouraged to be individuals back then too, but we were also forced to just watch one screen. We all either had to take turns to choose what the whole family had to watch, or we just simply didn't get a choice because Dad had the remote - or whatever it was in your family dynamic. Computers too - if you were lucky enough to have a computer in 2004, it was a family desktop computer and everyone in the house shared it. Suddenly, and I mean suddenly because 20 years really isn't a very long time in the grand scheme of things, we all started having our own screens. And I remember writing a post on here back in maybe... I want to say it was 2009 or 2010, and I was sitting in my room and I had my desktop computer, a small TV and DVD player, and my flip phone. And I remember thinking that I was just truly so, so bored. I was bored because I had such a number of options to choose from - did I want to call a friend? Watch a movie? Go on Twitter? Tumblr? MySpace? MSN Messenger? Chatrooms? - so many options, leading me into some kind of decision overload that I ended up just feeling completely bored. The concept of that really got to me back then. Imagine it now. We don't really get bored anymore, we just get numb.
Moving on to individualism in the relm of music, my favourite band of all time is an Australian band called Silverchair. I love Silverchair for many reasons, but one of the main reasons is because Silverchair is absolutely not your regular band that allowed themselves to be pigeon-holed into a specific genre or style. Silverchair released five studio albums between 1995 - 2007 and every single one of their albums is different. I would like to believe that other bands have done this too, but none that I can actually think of - not to this degree anyway. Not as progressively as Silverchair. Maybe the 1975 however they never really pigeon-holed themselves in the first place.
Silverchair were 17 years old when they released their first album, Frogstomp (1995), and they were well into adulthood by the time Young Modern (2007) came out. They matured and grew up over that time, and their music changed with them. The fact that they allowed their music to grow and change as they grew and changed as individuals and as a band is truly inspirational.
Their first album, Frogstomp (1995), was a grunge-Nirvana-inspired-alternative-metal kind of masterpeice really. Everyone in Australia at least has definately heard "Tomorrow" but I do encourage you to listen to "Israel's Son" or "Pure Massacre". Their second album, Freak Show (1997) they started to become a little more refined however still had that grunge or perhaps post-grunge style to their music as they reached adulthood. By the time Neon Ballroom (1999) came out, we had some much more artsy and emotion-filled songs from Daniel Johns as he publicly struggled with his mental health. This album is (quietly) my favourite of theirs. Daniel Johns' lyrics by 1999 were incredibly heart-breaking and devestating - see "Do You Feel the Same?" - "Would I be read, if I was see-through, or would you just read my spine?"
Diorama (2002) came out three years after the previous album, breaking their habit of bringing out an album every two years. This album was really their first step into a more pop-inspired style to their sound, but still with a grittiness to their lyrics - see "The Greatest View" - "You're the analyst, the fungus in my milk, when you want no one, and you got someone. Through the wind you crawl, and laugh and burning dunes."
By the time Young Modern (2007) finally came out, five long years after Diorama (2002), their sound had entirely shifted. Their music by this time really was more about catchy hooks and very polished, and a very far cry from the three boys from Newcastle that brought out their first grunge album in the mid-90's. But you know what? That's perfectly fine. They changed as they grew, they changed with the times, and they somehow - somehow! - remained relevent when so many bands that they toured alongside back then are simply considered one-hit-wonders.
Interesting that this rant of mine started talking about a conversation between Matty Healy and Josh Citarella and turned into some kind of argument with myself about how fantastic and relevent Silverchair still are today even though they went on an indefinate hiatus in 2011.

Anyhow. I hope that the younger generation today start to take some of the individualism that their apps are spewing at them, and see it change over the years, and realise that it is OK to change and grow as a human. And I hope that they learn to be curious about other peoples interests and not just their own FYP because although we are all encouraged to be our own person, sometimes we are not always right. Sometimes it's okay to learn from others. Sometimes it's okay to still allow somebody else to choose the channel and watch it together as a family or a couple or a bunch of friends, because connection is dying due to the birth of something that is actually built on connection - social media.
And above all else - stop pigeon-holing yourself. Who you were when you were 17 won't be who you are when you're 27 - I promise. See: Silverchair. And me.

Heart Out

He was a spilt bottle of red wine,
broken guitar strings,
the end of a joint,
the sun hiding behind the clouds.
He was the unravelling of a wool jumper,
torn and yellowing pages of your favourite book,
a dulled tip of a knife,
a crack in the limb of a Eucalyptus.
He was chipped nail polish,
he was knotted hair,
he was a ruptured spleen.
He was a beautiful, profound, chaotic mess.
And now he's dust, lingering gently and settling in the distance, unseen,
forever.

Looking for Somebody (To Love)

I am feeling a little blocked. I haven't written in about three weeks - I was really on a roll there for a bit. Sometimes, I wonder when I find myself blocked whether I am actually blocked-blocked or whether my subconcious just doesn't want me to delve back into that world again. It's probably a bit of both. The intense period of writing that I did - 25k words in 3 weeks - really did send me into a bit of an episode of resurfaced grief that I didn't see coming. I know that I need to go back to that world soon, though. I owe it to myself to continue with the story and finish my draft. Sometimes I have dreams that are so vivid, I can't tell what was real and what wasn't. I recently had a dream that was so vivid but also so fuzzy at the same time. I didn't remember the exact words exchanged between myself and this person, however I knew the feeling that I had. The feeling that I had was worse than anything that probably could have been said. If this particular dream was reality, then there was a very good chance that I was going to lose my relationship, dignity, alot of people's respect... I was really quite truly afraid that something had happened. And the more that I thought about it, the more that I was kind of able to "make up" scenarios or "fill in gaps" where I couldn't remember, and I was really starting to obsess over it. I was almost positive that it was a false memory, but I was really scared to find out that it actually may have happened. Turns out, it must have been a false memory or a strangely vivid dream as I spoke with that person today and there was no indication that anything was amiss. I don't understand how I was able to convince myself that my false memory/dream was true. I have a long, long past history of making similar mistakes and I guess I am afraid that I'll do it again, when I'm inebriated and vulnerable. I honestly wouldn't put it past myself to do something like that again, however I really do hope that I am able to manage it so that it doesn't. I have been in that position way too many times in my life, and the feeling of knowing that you have really, really fucked up - like truly fucked up so badly - and there is nothing you can do to 'undo' it. There is no undo button, there is no backspace, there is only the guilt and the shame and the fight & flight mode continiously switched on, waiting to be found out, waiting to be ripped apart at the seams, and know I deserve it.

You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky

I've been writing about some fairly painful memories lately relating to somebody that I used to know. I only know what I know of his story, which I believe is only very little. I know that there is plenty that I don't know. So I have been writing my interpretation of things... or what I think may have happened... or perhaps even what I want to have happened. It's fiction, but he's been the inspiration throughout. It's been fairly difficult for me to delve back into these memories. He passed away over 7 years ago now, but I'm not sure that I ever really gave myself permission to grieve. We'd known eachother almost 10 years by the time he'd passed, we had come in and out of eachother's lives over that time, once going around a year and half without speaking, but we always made our way back to eachother, keeping tabs as we promised we always would.
We imagined that one day, we would have our own families and lives and we would get our families together or meet up for dinner with our partners, and grow grey & old together but not together-together. We kind of had it all figured out, at 20 years old anyway.
Looking back on the memories and emails and photos has re-opened a wound inside of my chest that I hastily closed years ago, but I'm not sure that I ever actually really processed it. The fact that the story is pouring out of me like it has lived inside me, dormant, for many years is a sign to me that as painful as this is, as close to tears as I feel every day, as much as I want to close the chapter before it's done... shows me that I need to do this. I need to do it for myself, more than anyone or anything else.
And then today, sitting at my desk at work, trying not to think about all of this and focus on work, a ladybug crawled across my desk. I haven't seen a ladybug in years. Was it you, sending me a message from somewhere I couldn't possibly understand? I'll never know, of course. But I think it was. Thank you. I'll keep on going. I got this.

God, I'm Actually Invested.

 Officially, every single man I have seriously dated has found their "forever person" in the next person they dated after me. I was about to write that I don't know how that makes me feel. But actually, I know exactly how it makes me feel. I mean, it doesn't take a scientist to figure out that one really, does it? Even if I don't want to be with that person anymore, even if I am glad I am not with them anymore... it makes me feel used. Rejected. Compared-to. Even though I am comparing THEM to my current partner(s)... the thought of them moving on with somebody else and thinking, "Wow, this is so much better than things were with her. I love this person so much more than I ever loved her"... it almost makes me feel sick. 

I feel like I shouldn't still feel this way. Not three years later. Not five years later. Certainly not ten. But regardless, I do. It makes me think... it makes me think what was it about me that made them think that the next person was so much better? Sometimes, I spend too much time thinking about the fact that I spent so much effort on this person... and they maybe became a better version of themselves in some way... and then someone else gets to reap the benefits?

I know I can reframe this. I can reframe it to think... they were ready to move on to the next relationship because of what they learned in ours... and our time together was important to them and their future as if it weren't for me, they may be on a different path, and maybe they wouldn't have ended up meeting this next person that they married or had children with or started a new life with. Maybe if it weren't for me, they wouldn't have learned what they needed to learn to bring into the next relationship. And maybe that's true. But being a stepping stone towards someone else's future enough times? You're just being stepped on and walked all over. I mean... you're welcome?