Analyze Thy Self
and You Shall Know Thy Self
An essay about self-discovery, re-awakening and 90's pop-rock.
By Michael Rowland
My brain is working overtime, I need something to ease my mind
'Cause as my thoughts go manic, I reel and start to panic
And there's no place to hide behind
- My Brain, Rivers Cuomo
Let me start by saying this: Sometimes the process of breaking away from my inner critic is the hardest part about writing. I've had to re-write that first sentence about 8 times and, truth be told, I am still not close to being satisfied with it. Allow me to change that: breaking through my inner critic is the hardest part about doing anything in my life. If I was hired to pen my own dirge (funeral hymn), it would take me well into my afterlife before it was completed.
One of the most destructive recurring statements that I've told myself for a long time is that whenever I am attempting to express myself artistically I am "pretending." That I am not doing anything worthwhile or meaningful when I create. I mean, there is some degree of truth to the fact that I am only "pretending" to be a film-maker or a musician but when I am telling myself that I am "pretending to be a writer" that is both counter-productive and hurtful.
What's ironic is that while my psyche' encourages me to tell myself I am "pretending," it discourages any sort of dreaming. As soon as I catch myself feeling hopeful for my future and drifting off into a positive landscape, that is shot down by a damning shout from my consciousness: "Oh, be realistic here! That'll never happen!" It's okay to have the occasional naysayer in your life, that can oftentimes be inspirational and a great source of strength (in a more negative way than most)... but to be your own worst enemy only leads to conflicting emotions and self-doubt. And this has lead to a huge revelation over the course of the last few days. While a music critic's complaints do not directly alter the album they are listening to, my inner critic has drastically thrown my whole world out of balance.
"Damn my psyche'"
- John Michael Dorian, Scrubs - My Last Words
I find myself wishing I could become a more active player in my own life. A few days ago, a friend of mine invited me to go to his frat and meet some new people. Honestly, I had wanted to hang out with someone that entire day and I had felt isolation's prickly cactus-fingers tightly wound around my heel. However, the thought of meeting new people and being slightly out of my element frightened me and my reaction was "No! I will just be awkward and embarrass myself!" I decided that instead of hanging out with one of my best friends I would stay home and drown my loneliness out with Weezer's Pinkerton.
I pondered why I did this over the course of the next couple of days. Do I just have low self-esteem? No, I feel pretty good about myself. Am I depressed? I was, but I haven't been for a long time. Do I need to grow up? And I paused upon that statement for a while. Who is ready to honestly answer that question?
At first I found myself habitually leaning towards yes, feeling that my desire to be alone and pout (well, not pout) was because of the fact that I was a bit of a manchild; but it dawned on me that I have taken strides towards being a more mature individual and becoming a "man" (whatever that means) for a year... and if I really think about it, I am still well on my way to achieving that goal. I realized that the problem wasn't that I needed to grow up. I realized this during the course of an AIM conversation, of all things.
"You're such an old man sometimes," Aaron Isaacs tells me. I tell him to fuck off. But a simple comment I took in passing really showed me what had been driving me crazy for nearly a week: I haven't been acting like a spoiled little boy... I've been acting like an old hermit. The fact that I could listen to the lonely and isolated Pinkerton and 'The Good Life's' chorus in particular (I don't wanna be an old man anymore / it's been a year or two since I was out on the floor) and not feel irony stabbing me in the gut truly is a credit to my ignorance. I've finally seen the dawn: I realize that I need to live young now while I can and stop holing myself up in my basement. I value the people in my life and I need to spend time with them while I still can. I am so grateful to even exist and what do I do with my existence but listen to others' work?
"In the days of my youth
I was told what it means to be a man
Now I've reached that age
I've tried to do all those things the best I can"
- Led Zeppelin, Good Times, Bad Times
How did it come to this? I'm not going to be that kid who blames his parents for all of his personality flaws because I think I'm old enough to shape who I am for myself. And I'm not gonna be the optimist who glamorizes and glosses over them by saying "This is who I am." Because while this is the way I am right now... it really doesn't have to be. I am sick of shooting myself in the foot before my thoughts are even fully fleshed out.
Today, as I was attempting to "perfect" a song I had recently written (perform it without any mistakes and make its structure flawless), I blocked out all the voices in my head and just cut loose, attempting something I don't usually do: Soloing with my right hand while my left hand played the rhythm part of the song. In short: I was jamming. Was it perfect? No. Was it liberating? Yes. Before I would have heard "Don't fool yourself. Focus on doing what you're good at. Stop pretending to be able to play the piano." All I hear now are descending chords and slightly out-of-tune keys from my vintage grand piano.
I don't know why I put off trying to get rid of that negative voice. Maybe it's because I liked pretending that it wasn't a problem.
3/19/09
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