Pretty Sure that I put this blog on hibernation this March so I could focus on real life and all of the increasing responsibility creeping upon me, but in the last month or so, life has gotten, well…REAL.
Everything is new. I’ve been extremely humbled by things – which is amazing considering the fact that I didn’t believe it was possible to be any more humbled than I’ve already been. Music is not the same. Work is not the same – which means money’s not the same. And Love is certainly not the same.
Though this blog was never intended to be super personal, it was created as a space to vent and share my opinion on things as well as happenings in my life, mostly as an artist. “Artist” seems to be a strong word for someone who’s been as inactive in the past year as this blog has been. At this point, I’m not quite sure if I can actually be considered one or just a dude who raps.
If it sounds like I’m having something akin to a pity party, then that leads us to the point of this whole post. Sadness is a natural part of the human experience. It’s not as common or frequent as the expression of anger, frustration or confusion, but is the alpha and omega of all of those things if left unattended. However, because we have trained ourselves to deftly avoid anything that causes us anxiety, we try our hardest to suppress and clip the emergence of any sullen mood or melancholy output. We frown upon it and despise how weak it reveals us to be. We loathe it for taking us out of our otherwise selfish element of satiating our daily desires and the distractions that allow us to indulge and put anxiety-inducing forces at bay. But can it also be argued that sadness helps place our reality in perspective? If one is truly introspective enough, they may be able to count their blessings, to measure their privileges against those less privileged and subsequently “snap out of it”, by realizing that they could be worse off. If one is short sighted, they can feel absolutely worthless and wallow in despair. But is there a middle?
Me, I’m in perpetual quest to find the proverbial middle in everything. In my studies, we’re taught that clinical depression is a prolonged period of sadness with several forms. Its one of the few mental afflictions that appear to impact people similarly across cultures. In my teachings on being a man, we’re taught that men can’t afford to be depressed. There is no breaking down or losing it in the name of shit getting too hard. We’re not even supposed to cry. I took these lessons to heart more than anything I’ve ever learned in psychology. I was taught to never let a woman see me cry or she’ll lose respect. To a large extent, this is true. So you can imagine that I’ve definitely not let another man see me cry either. To this day, not counting my mother, I’ve only ever cried in front of one and a half women, and one was due to life-altering circumstance. Why I still hold on to this standard of manhood, knowing that it goes against everything I’ve learned scientifically and behaviorally, I don’t know. Maybe because I adhere to lots of conventional wisdom ideas of manhood steeped in poor tradition and cognition. This has worked for me and against me.
But when it goes deeper than crying, or even when its “not that deep”, when is it ok to say, ‘hey, some sucky shit just happened in my world and it’s having an effect on me’? I’ve been a subscriber to belief in the law of attraction since 2005, and if you ask anyone who knows me they’d tell you about my unwavering optimism and sunshiny disposition. Yet, if you asked anyone who’s listened to my music or really gotten into my head, they could also tell you about my cynicism, and questioning of the meaning of life. These 2 things don’t seem to work hand in hand now do they? I’m aware that you get what you put out into the universe and because of this, I’ve striven to put nothing but good out there. Recently, it feels like I got it Terribly wrong. All wrong.
The point is, that you’re supposed to learn from everything and everything happens for a reason. And when bad things happen that threaten to bring you down, they seem like they’re only happening to you and you only. Sometimes you need to dwell, and assess and recapitulate to become better for the next day. And in the midst of that, yes, you may wonder why the fuck this has happened to you in the first place. My life in particular is quite episodic. Calamity occurs weekly like my life is some kind of Everybody Hates Chris meets Curb Your Enthusiasm and My Name Is Earl hybrid. And it defies all Karmic law and recidivism of energy (Unless it means that all this tragic irony is leading to something equally DOPE!). It almost seems like someone has one of those voodoo dolls and instead of inflicting physical harm, this year they’re aiming at my external reality. I haven’t learned a damn thing so far except that life is hard despite my best efforts to be a person who looks out for his friends and family, tries to be a good boyfriend and not become embittered by the industry that has spurned him countless times. I keep hearing people tell me that it’s all about outlook, but when you’ve been the number 1 unofficial life-coach for everyone else for years, and you’ve been the beacon of positivity and known for facing adversity and enduring b.s. situations and then everything around you still collapses all at the same time, the question becomes, now, in this moment in time right here, is it ok to feel sorry for yourself just a little bit? Or does that still make you some kind of selfish punk who wants a pat on the back? When you lose everything but the roof over your head and the clothes on your back (“well, maybe not the ride”)…Is it ok then?
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