Music has always been something in which I could find solace or celebration, an expression of whatever sorrow, anger, elation or other emotion I might be feeling. But lately, listening to my favorite bands has been causing my heart to ache just a little bit more.
Some might think this is a strange reaction, but not if you're anything like me, harboring the not-so-secret desire to become a musician.
My entire life, that's all I've ever wanted to do. I was involved in every music group in my high school and even spent a misguided semester here as an intended music major. That was also my worst semester grade-wise, thanks to that dreadful theory class.
Regardless, this desire to create and perform music has always been there. Lately I've been worrying that I may never get the chance to do that, all because of what I think of as misplaced priorities. Rather than taking a risk, I've remained secure in what seems to be the preordained life-plan of "go to school, get a job, get married and retire." Kids are optional.
I've put off any serious foray into music because of my commitments to school, work and The Spectrum. Yes, I see the value in graduating college and getting my degree so I can pursue music at a later date. But what if by then I've lost my creative drive?
And don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my job at The Spectrum. But while I have a passion for writing that easily rivals my passion for music, writing has always come easy for me. In fact, I didn't start writing for The Spectrum with any hopes of becoming a News Editor -- the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I'm just here by some stroke of luck and what I hope is at least mildly competent writing.
My place in the music world, however, has been much more elusive.
While I always felt that I was meant to become a singer or start some awesome band, that opportunity has never fallen into my lap ?Ae la my News Editor position. And while I have challenged myself by learning to sing properly and teaching myself guitar and piano, I've been completely content to wait for that opportunity to present itself, rather than carving out my own niche. So rather than taking that time to form a band or pursue some sort of solo project, I've concentrated on getting a job and graduating college, thus putting my dreams on hold.
Maybe what it really comes down to is that as much as my friends and NYSSMA (New York State School Music Association, for the non-performers) scores may tell me that I'm a great singer, I'm absolutely petrified of failure. I know that if I work hard enough, I can secure enough money to pay off that pesky car insurance bill or I can get good enough grades to scrape by and keep my scholarship. Hell, I spent my entire high school career doing just enough work to get those A's and not a smidge more.
Maybe I've just spent too many years basking in mediocrity rather than trying to do something that could be great.
Because that's what it all comes down to, isn't it? We'd all rather sit comfortably in front of our computers or televisions than put ourselves in a position where we might experience any kind of rejection or failure. That "number one crush" is never realized and those songs are never heard because we're just too damn scared to open ourselves up and become exposed to that all-too-real possibility of failure -- or the equally real possibility of success.
I've spent at least five years reveling in this mediocrity, satisfied with whatever minor accomplishments I've attained along the way, and I can tell you one thing, I'm not going to sit on the sidelines anymore. Call this my New Year's resolution. Call it a quarter-life crisis or the ramblings of a neurotic insomniac. Call it whatever the hell you want.
The bottom line is that I'm tired of waiting for my life to begin and I'm even more tired of people telling me that college is supposed to be the best years of my life. Because what good is this kind of life if I'm not making the most of it?
