I went to dinner with my parents and my mum mentioned my brother being away and not contacting home. "He's a boy, though," she told me when I wondered aloud why he wouldn't contact her; I know how he feels about talking to people better than anyone, but he know mum worries, particularly about him. It was when I jokingly went to say that I'd take pictures and send her big e mails that it happened.
I saw my bus.
I used to dream of being in a band. I know, everyone does, blah blah blah, but I mean I really. REALLY wanted it. I could see it, I could fucking taste it, being in the studio, the first person to ask for an autograph, playing at shitty clubs where no-one is listening, playing huge arenas filled with a thousand people - those were my favourites. All of it, even the bits most people already in the situation hate, all of it was everything I want.
I had to stop dreaming and start living in reality. As I said before, everyone wants to be in a band. There are literally one or two bands with female leads that make it and I don't listen to any of them. Those girls can play instruments and write songs and I can't do either of those things.
I could play drums if I was allowed near a drum kit; the first time I ever touched a real drum kit was at a friend's church and I was beautiful, she told me she'd been playing for 3 years and it took her 2 weeks of daily practice to perfect the drumming pattern I'd pretty much pulled out of my ass the first time I played.
I can sing and I have stage presence, but I can't write lyrics. I can write stories. Hell, I'm writing this the way I'd write a story just so I can pretend it's not real and it won't hurt. On occasion, I can write barely passable poetry, but I can't write songs. I need someone else's words, someone else's tune to pour myself into.
I can do other things, I barter. I can do the accounts, I can clean up after the real musicians, I can do fucking costumes if you call for it, but in the end,it means nothing if you can't write songs, or at least play a goddamn instrument. So I forced myself to stop imagining I could somehow do it. I want to go into advertising, I told myself, and I think I can do it, I know I'll be at least alright at it, but it's not where my heart lies. My mind will always be on that imaginary stage, bearing my soul through the words of another to imaginary people.
I can blame my music teacher if I want. He was a disappointment, to say the least. He hated me, but I don't know why. He wouldn't let me study music, he forced me to drop it asap. He creeps the hell out of me, but the only way to get singing or instrument lessons is through asking him. Then I'd miss parts of my other lessons to attend them and I'm awful at catching up.
I could go further back and blame my parents; they wouldn't let me learn guitar or piano, no, my sister learned piano and my brother was half-heartedly attempting guitar, so I'd have to take violin lessons. I was good, but I wasn't interested. I suppose that should set me up for my future in the advertising industry.
But no, it's my fault I let myself get to this age without learning a thing. I could have asked about music lessons on my first day of secondary school, when I didn't even know that creepy-ass music teacher,when some other guy was in charge of lessons.
I could have asked my brother if I could learn guitar; he would have said yes, hell, he would have given me his guitar, he didn't really like playing it. Now his guitar lies in the corner of my room beside my own, a left-handed electric guitar which I bought without knowing what hand I play with, and now I can't learn because I can't play left-handed.
I know I'm still young. I'm sixteen, come on, I can still turn this around! No.
1. Girl rockers are always, ALWAYS on the cusp of annoying the shit out of everyone, so don't you try to tell me that this business isn't a gender game, because I'm one of the millions who don't listen to female singers, so I'm a part of it too and I know it's true.
2. I can't write songs. I'm useless.
3. I can't play an instrument (other than violin, but what use is that). I will try to book lessons next year, but I don't think I can learn guitar and I'm not allowed near drums because my parents say they're too loud and take up too much space and I already have two guitars (which I can't play).
Look, I'm sorry I went off on this rant. It was bubbling up to the surface, that fucking core desire to be someone, to be music, and it doesn't work if I just squash it. I need to vent it out somewhere, get it out of my system, squeeze all the venom out and then let what can't be removed fester until I need to get rid of that too.
Listening to: my own whining :/
Eating: at Pesto