Alright...since someone actually cares...

I'll throw some abstract references to my daily grind in here from time to time.
I've just become more interested in writing songs again....something I haven't had the energy to do in a long time. I have recently rekindled my love for music - both writing and listening - and I am really excited about it.

So excited, actually, that I'm getting down on myself because I want to do it so much that I am less interested in my daily responsibilities, family, etc. Not that I mean to neglect them or even wish to push them all away, but I think I've got a new obsession with it because it is surprisingly really good...at least I am optimistic that with the right collaborative effort, my stuff might actually be completed and enjoyed by others. Something I always dreamed about but started to think was just out of reach for so long.

I feel guilty. Guilty for wanting to do this thing for myself and wanting to get away from my family. I love my family, but I've got an obsession that's not only exciting me but making me miserable....but the misery, you see, is what's inspiring me....my lyrics, my music, my ideas....didn't I fucking say misery makes you write well? Same shit applies today, only now it's music instead of trying to write a fucking novel.

Yet another thing I can't stand about myself: indecision.
One day I'm gonna be a pastry chef.
Another day I'm gonna be an author.
Next day I'm a fucking musician again.
And over and over and over.

The only thing any of my career or hobby desires have in common is creative design.
Not the hokey "religion" but me wanted to imagine something new and make it manifest into the lives of other people. Whatever it is that I create, it must be useful or utilitarian. When I made sculptures, they have to also serve a function besides just existing. I write music because I want to not only express myself but I want very much for whoever hears it to be able to relate or be moved by it. When I write fiction, I want the reader to escape with me and enjoy my words. When I write in my blog, I'm hoping someone reads it and gives a shit about whatever crap I am talking about that day - maybe just to entertain.

All I know is, I'm tired of feeling that every pleasure in life has to come with a helping of guilt.
A night out with friends = don't be home late, get a babysitter, whatever.
Shopping - Why did you buy that? We don't need that. We are on a budget.
Hair and make up - same shit

I just....I don't know. Writing is free in more than one way. It doesn't cost anything to do and I can do any fucking thing I want in a story or some prose. In this way, a work of fiction would be the most guilt-free, besides the fact that it would probably require some alone time. With music, I have to leave the house when the lyrics are done....it requires collaboration because I just never really learned any one instrument well enough besides my voice to do it all alone. Therefore, I have to go out and away to be in the company of those who are not my family. Which is all fine and good....but....I find myself not wanting to come back. I could work on this shit until I passed out. But that's just me. And it is this reason that I feel guilt. I'm tired of feeling guilty.

Isn't there some pleasure a mother and wife can have that doesn't sour the sweet?
I'm gonna go cry now.