@pgreyy
Seattle based, Wisconsin born. Making mutant pop music as Interbay (under the auspices of Phantom Laboratories West.) Unexpectedly widowed and retired. Single parent. Previously in the comedy industry, music industry, radio industry and games.
For a second, I thought this was going to be about "Broccoli Guy"--a substitute teacher who goes to sporting events in the Pacific Northwest (and sometimes beyond) in order to dance while holding broccoli in each hand.
(He's been on SportsCenter a few times and is beloved wherever he goes.)
Beloved by Swedish Chefs everywhere.
Someone REALLY wants the basilisk to know that it did everything it could on their behalf...
Ohhhhhhh, BlueSky. Why do I feel compelled to share my existential dread with a few people who recognized my name from something...or have some service they think I might want to purchase?
Apologies for the moping and self-loathing. I'm sure something will jolly me out of this. Right?
Maybe that's the saddest part. After a lifetime of showing great potential, I never actually DID go anywhere.
I didn't live up to what I thought was possible for me.
And I may be the only one bothered by that.
(And THAT bothers me.)
I avoided rejection at the cost of any personal greatness.
I can no longer write my way out of this. I can only get started on an epitath that few will read and none will remember.
(I'm depressed but I'm no danger to myself. I'm letting my insecurities go "there", but I'm not going anywhere.
There's a Jets To Brazil lyric "I know, I can write my way out of this" that truly hits home. I don't believe in the no-win situation. I can beat the Kobayashi Maru.
...at least, I always imagined I could. The reality is, I constantly gave up too quickly and pursued other options. Easier.
I hate knowing there are things I'll never do (or never do again.) I hate knowing that there are choices I made that I'll never get to make amends for, that there are people who I've let slip away that I'll never recapture. That there's love in me that remains constant...if only on my side.
Another thing I've identified in therapy is how much I dread "regret." I buy so much physical media because heaven forbid I want to watch, read, listen to something and not be able to.
It also means that any mistake I've made, any missed opportunity, anything I could have done better...kills me.
I've got to get this all out of me, as much as I can, before I can't.
I used to say that I believed in "artistic immortality"--that as long as someone remembered you and what you did, you remain. (I guess that's the movie "Coco" isn't it?)
I think I blew it. I had chances and squandered them.
To my therapist, I've labeled this fear "Flowers for Algernon"--to be smart enough to recognize your inevitable decline has begun...and, at 60, I see more signs of it than I'd like...and more (or worse) all the time.
I think this might be why I'm obsessed with music production now.
"8. I lose the ability to communicate my thoughts and ideas to those around me.
9. I am dead, and I am no longer remembered at all for my accomplishments." (Brooks, The Atlantic--end snippet)
Well, that certainly accurately details my existential dread in nine statements. (Seriously shook!)
"5. I am no longer able to work.
6. Many people I meet do not recognize me or know me for my previous work.
7. I am still alive, but professionally I am no one." (Brooks, The Atlantic--continued)
"1. I feel my competence declining.
2. Those close to me begin to notice that I am not as sharp as I used to be.
3. Other people receive the social and professional attention I used to receive.
4. I have to decrease my workload and step back from daily activities I once completed with ease.
(+)
"On the contrary, we should lean into this thought—contemplate it, consider it, meditate on it. Here’s my version of the maranasati, in which I mindfully meditate on each of the following states:" (continued--Brooks, The Atlantic )
Here is a snippet from this article, shared in the assumption this is fair use. (Doing my best here!)
From "The Best Way to Handle Your Decline Is to Confront It Head On" by Arthur C. Brooks (The Atlantic, June 4, 2020.)
"We should not avoid thinking about the loss of our abilities. (cont.)
I feel like I've ALWAYS been meditating on most of these. And it has not helped me conquer my fear of my inevitable fate. (As Brooks says, many of us fear death LESS than we fear not being able to be ourselves, to be...for want of a better word...addled...diminished. I count myself as one.)
Brooks suggests that we should do the same to acclimate ourselves to our inevitable decline, and reading his suggested variation of the maranasati has me shook. It's like the loop that plays over and over in my mind that has always made me feel less than...are all in those nine steps.
Brooks describes how Buddhist monks use "maranasati" (mindfulness of death)--where you are to meditate on the very process of death and decomposition, imagining your inevitable fate through each specific step...from bloating to dust. 9 steps in all. This, it is said, helps you not to fear death.
I see that the same author, Arthur Brooks, had written a piece five years ago talking about "How to get comfortable with professional decline" (too late for that for me, Arthur. My professional decline has already happened). The article compared the fear of decline with the fear of death...
So, tonight, I'm reading a story in The Atlantic about how to better parent your children--I am a single father to a 15 year old. It described the instinct to take things away that they want/love when they don't do what they need to or should...and that's wrong. Look up "islands of confidence". ;)
I have just turned 60 years old. Seems impossible. In my mind's image of myself, I think I'm somewhere between 15 and 20. Still feel like I have a lot to learn, still have so much to do, still have yet to leave a trace. Everyday, I feel the decline grow. This is now a race to do before I can't.
My Interbay music project is basically just me shouting into the void--but, on occasion, the void shouts back.
The Interbay track "Factory Full of Sparks" was included in a real world techno mix...and I'm chuffed!
Check it out:
soundcloud.com/fastradiowav...
We're Facebook Friends--but I haven't seen John in person in a long time.
It wasn't always this way. John ran Northwest Dance Music Association record pool, and I was Vice President for awhile. We saved money by sharing a room at a couple of Winter Music Conferences. Love talking music w/him!
So, in the future--if you see "TODAY IN VULNERABILITY" start a BlueSky post from me...it'll be something like this--oversharing and overwriting.
I'll post shorter, funnier, more interesting things too...so, feel free to pick and choose the content you most enjoy. ;)
--30--
"It'll all turn out all right."
"How?"
"No one knows. It's a mystery."
--Shakespeare in Love
BUT, if you ever wondered why my posts are so long... Q.E.D.
It's just a fraction of what my brain is making me deal with. ;)
You're welcome!
...and yet, I still want to assure you that I AM fun at parties. I'm a good dinner date, too. And maybe other things as well.
("I'm a good lover, Wanda. Or, at least, I used to be."--Archie Leach)
I don't think my isolation will last forever. But I can't see the path to it ending, yet.
...though, I suppose THIS THREAD is an explosion in itself.
...and all of this, because I saw a video where there was text on the screen saying "all it too well" when they meant "it all too well" and it sent me spiraling into whatever THIS is...
Now, this whole threaded post and replies happened in an instant, in my brain--it merely needed my fingers to catch up to share this.
This, or something like this, is happening ALL THE TIME in my head--without no consistent outlet to keep the boiler from exploding.
(Isn't that a bit melodramatic? Absolutely. But it feels real. And there's no one here to talk me down off this ledge.)
(Metaphorical ledge, of course. I may be miserable, but I hope to be at least miserable as long as I can--nobody needs to worry.)