Releasing the Notes

Music has a beautiful power. It has this uncanny ability to reach inside your soul, find that one thing you have been feeling, and put words to it in a way that makes you want to feel it again and again just to chase that experience. I remember as a young kid watching a Backstreet Boys concert on the TV at a friend’s house, singing loudly and excitedly into a baseball bat (he had the remote control, which was the obvious microphone, so I had to improvise) as his mother walked in laughing and we quickly tried to hide any evidence.

Or there were the many nights spent in the basement at a different friend’s house as we curated the perfect mix to burn a new CD, bouncing between different punk rock albums we had stolen from our older brothers. We would be up until two in the morning debating the merits of adding in one more New Found Glory song, or if a Blink-182 song would add the perfect touch to the mood we had created. Then naming it something ridiculous. I had a CD case filled with burnt CDs with quirky names like “Poly-Cotton 5”, “Siamese Catfish”, or the classic “Gummi Bear Vol. 2”.

Later I became more of a purist. I got my first iPod and immediately filled it with full albums of Fall Out Boy, All American Rejects, and other popular emo bands. As my tastes evolved, I started collecting bands that had something to them that really stood out. The Kings of Leon had such a gritty voice in their earlier albums, The Cold War Kids had such a reckless approach to their piano rock, and Motion City Soundtrack had lyrics so eclectic that they shouldn’t have worked nearly as well as they did. Brand New had the best songs for when I was angry with friends, Iron and Wine was the perfect melancholy afternoon mood, and in my most depressed days I turned to The Used and My Chemical Romance. I would tie emotions to bands I had seen live with my brother, who worked out a way to get me free tickets and allowed me to experience music in a whole new way. The Early November concert we attended together was a religious experience for me, perfectly book-ended with conversations about life and the tacos we would grab after every show.

In the hours I spent playing guitar each day I leaned heavily on Jimmy Eat World and Weezer, and pulled from all of these great bands to try and write my own music.

As an adult I have branched out into a broad range of music, enjoying almost everything in some way. Just not country music. Don’t hold that against me. Or do, I don’t care.

It is safe to say I have an extensive relationship with and love for music. I have often looked to music to keep me alive in the darkest times of my life. I had a beautiful acoustic guitar I would pour myself into so deeply, confide all of my struggles, and ask for a reason to live.

So, when I talk about “releasing my notes”, I think back on all of these things. Just like the people around me helped shape my taste in music, and then the music helped shape me as a person, I look at what the things I choose can do to help me become the person I want to be.

Who do I want to be?

I’m still figuring that out.

I have spent some time recently going over what things are really important to me. What aspects of my life bring me fulfillment and peace in some way? There are a couple of musings I have had I want to put out into the world.

The first musing is about an obsession with attention. Why do I need people to have a good opinion of me? I have spent a majority of my life trying to impress others, particularly in large groups of people. I would play my guitar for anyone who would listen, I reveled in opportunities to speak in public, I performed in school plays, did dance recitals, and all sorts of cool tricks to get people to watch me. As an adult I have tried doing youtube videos, I recorded a few episodes of an unreleased podcast, and have always been invested in the attention culture. I have tried to mold myself to fit this culture in many different ways.

Over the years I have struggled a lot with mental illness, and the constant reach for attention was my way of trying to find a reason to stay. The past year I have kind of withdrawn from a lot of things. I quit teaching guitar lessons, I dialed back my involvement with many worthy causes I had thrown myself into, and gave myself permission to not be the best at everything I try to do. This has freed up time to do things that bring me real happiness – writing, creating art, music, and spending time with my family.

It is time for me to quit trying to be the songs that other people want to hear, and to find my own music.

My other musing is about peace. Specifically about the thought of “Is it worth my peace?” As I have looked at some issues facing me I have thought back on this phrase a lot. As I talk about leaving the career I have put 10 years into, the main concern brought up by almost everyone I’ve talked to is finances. Whether that is for the current time (can I afford to leave my job) or my future finances (what about retirement?). I understand their concerns, they are often the very ones that keep me up at night.

I have looked at the cost of staying, as well. I chose my profession largely because of the amount of time it would let me have with my family. Instead, I have been pulled into an emotional investment that leaves little for anyone else. If you ever see a video about an amazing teacher, you will almost always see that their home life crumbles as they pour themselves into their work. It is often seen as a noble sacrifice, but it’s not. What I see when I am shown those movies is a broken profession. Success at what you do should not come at the cost of your family, of your personal life, of your peace.

While I am worried about the financial costs of leaving, I can’t forget the cost of staying. That cost is my peace, and that is too high for me.

And If I can’t separate myself from the music that everyone around me is wanting me to play, how will I ever find my own sound?