Back In The Saddle

I'm usually the "organizer" of friend events.


Lately I've been under the biggest rock of my life. So big, I didn't even realize I was under it until yesterday. I haven't gone out, drank alcohol, or socialized since July 4th. FUCK.


I guess I've just been in this depressed state that, again, I didn't even realize I was in, and it just hit me yesterday that I need to snap the fuck out of it.


I've put together a gathering of all cliques, groups, etc. of friends for next weekend, the 25th of September. I was a bit nervous about playing that leader role and gathering up all my loved ones under one roof since it's been so long since I have. What if no one shows? What does that mean? Have I dropped on their "close friend" or "loved one" list?


I'm trying not to fret too much about it, and honestly, I'm enormously excited. I love my friends and whether or not they show up next weekend, I know they love me too.

Trying To Forget

I'm trying not to think about the debt I'm collecting due to school and my personal life. I'm not irresponsible, especially when it comes to money, but I need some sort of quality of life too, right? That's not too much to ask, is it?
I'm just moving forward.
I'm not trying to think about everything and everyone I will be leaving behind in the next year if everything goes to plan. 
I'm just moving forward.
I'm not trying to think about the potential friendships and intimate relationships I've been denying because I just don't care.
I'm just moving forward.
I'm not trying to think about the perfect person, the one I love, and how I'll never wake up to see her sleeping face, hear her steady breathing, smell her hair, feel her warm body, or taste her lips ever again.
I'm just moving forward.
I'm not trying to think about today when I had to pull off the freeway to have a break-down in a parking lot so I wouldn't swerve into another car to take myself and another life out of this world for good.
I'm just moving forward.
I'm not trying to think about the habits I have that counteract the productive habits I've recently taken up.
I'm just moving forward.
I'm not trying to think about how although I'm moving forward, but could care less if my life just ended due to an accident. Because, God knows, I don't, and never will, have it in me to end it myself.
So really... I'm just moving... and that's about it.

2010 Fall Semester

I'm not as excited for this semester as I have been in the past. Not because I'm a lazy student, in fact, I loath lazy students; stop wasting your time, your teachers time, and my time with your boring conversation!


Anyway, I've only been taking classes that count towards my A.S., no fluff stuff. This semester, I was a bit late with enrolling so I only have three classes; Biology, Math, and Communications. I would have liked a fourth but I suppose that's my fault. I don't have any more "fun" classes that also count towards my goal. The remaining classes are pretty straight forward. I'm sure I'll still find some enjoyment in them, I always do, but it's about here that it starts getting mundane.


.... Let me stop myself right there... I just realized what a boring fucking entry this is and I was about to delete it when another thought crossed my mind... fuck it. I just took 5 whole minutes to type all this up.


Also, I suppose the entry isn't all that bad considering I'm still on some sort of melatonin high left over from last night and suffered through first day/syllabus day of school. I would actually prefer that they just jump right into the contents of the class than have them spend entire hours on attendance/grades/cell phones/etc.


I'll try to remind myself to not create another entry when I'm feeling lethargic and apathetic. My apologies.

Silly Girls

It's amazing where dropping a little weight will put you on the "hot girl" radar. Last night, after the show, I was approached by several girls, some I've known for years and some were strangers, and the little flirty conversations began. A rock-stars dream, right? 


I've not only always been a fat-kid at heart, but I've literally been a fat-kid most of my life. There was a two year period where I was totally fit and wore girl jeans straight out of High School. The same phenomenon happened then too. All the girls that wouldn't even look at me in school were suddenly wanting to go out on dates. Back then, I never took the opportunities because although I had a great body, I still had terrible self-esteem. Now, I'm not taking the opportunities because I don't give a fuck. Fuck them for being so shallow. I talked to them for 2 minutes and was bored out of my mind. Have something to say, bring something to the table, have a brain worth picking at, have an interesting hobby, sit me down, shut me up, and tell me ten things I don't already know. Your looks aren't enough for me.


I know that I'm coming off as the bitter guy that just never got any in High School, but I swear that's not the case. I just don't want to waste my time. I don't want to be the guy pushing 30 in 6 years, trying to keep the band alive, trying to get girls with freshly pierced nose rings to come home with me, drinking my fucking liver and kidneys away. Life is too short for being coy, for acting foolish, for doing drugs, for mind games, for hate.


I am willing and I am going to leave all this behind anyway. I can only hope to God that people are in fact different elsewhere. When I get out of this state, I'll integrate into a part of society that better suits me instead of dominating a part of society that is below me. Call me cocky, but that is how I see it. 

By The Way, My Bands Name Is Ashes of Erin

Ashes of Erin played with In This Moment tonight. It went VERY well. Crowd reaction, overall turnout, merchandise sales, compliments, and stage presence was the best it's been so far. It made me remember why I play music.


I've been pretty negative as far as the music scene goes. I fucking hate promoters, or "organizers", which I like to call them. They rent out the venue, hand out tickets and flyers to the bands, and make the bands do all the foot work for flyering and ticket sales. THAT IS IT. "Promoters" are supposed promote the fucking show and get people to come out. The bands PROVIDE the entertainment. I'm not opposed to bands selling tickets, that's more incentive for them to get even more people out to the shows, but when ticket sales determines whether or not "promoters" work with that band again and what time slot you get... it's bullshit and fucking backwards.


Anyway... tonight went very well.


BUT:


After we packed up our gear and switched from performance mode into hangout mode, I began to people watch. I usually take off as soon as our set is up, whether we are headlining or not, but this time I stuck around. And I came to a realization...


I am very sick of the music scene. I'm sick of the macho mosh-pit guys, I'm sick of the same overweight middle-aged dudes in various black band shirts, jean shorts and straggly long hair, I'm sick of the same girls who pay to get into these shows only to spend the night texting, I'm sick of the same "How you doing out there?!", "You guys alive out there?!", "Give it up for so'n'so!", "This song is a very special song about death/strife/struggle/life/love/etc.".


Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one that is tired of it. Maybe I'm the only one that wants to evolve. I love the music I create and play. I love the shows. I love the conversations I hold with strangers before and after the show. I love the compliments (who wouldn't?). I love the energy.


Am I asking too much for the things I love without the things I hate? Do I really expect people not to start a mosh-pit when we hit a breakdown? Is that what I want?


I suppose it all comes with the territory. I suppose I'm just the odd one out.

Preparing For Change

Today (technically yesterday) marked a big change for me. Well, I'm hoping it will... well, really... it's up to me to really keep up with it... but nevertheless, today was a big first step.


I took out all my piercings: No more booger build up on the septum ring and now I'm dealing with floppy-butt-hole ear lobes


I called a Navy recruiter: I have an appointment for tomorrow morning (later today) for information.


I had my last cigarette: I've said and attempted this before, but this time it truly needs to happen. I'm going to need my lungs crisp by the middle of next year (see previous statement).


I ran 1.5 miles: I've never ran more than a single step over 1 mile before. Tonight, I ran 1.5 without stopping and feeling that I could have pushed myself harder. Now that I reflect, I should have pushed harder.


Now... the one negative.


I rode my bike in a full blown monsoon in downtown Phoenix. I arrived to the studio early for practice, just so happened to have my bike on the car rack, and decided to go for a ride. It was dark, windy, pouring rain and I didn't once fear for my life/safety/well being/etc as traffic sped by. I guess that isn't anything new though. Pretty much all my near-death riding experiences haven't phased me at all. Even when I was hit by a car (no serious injury), my first thought was, "Fuck, I don't have money for a new rim". I don't wear helmets or reflective gear, but I do have a front and rear light only for legal reasons. When I'm on my bike, I just don't give a fuck. It's always been that way whether or not I'm happy or sad or pissed or lethargic.


... This took a strange turn. I think I'll save the rest of my loathsome bike riding thoughts for a new post.


Anyway, good things ahead. School, military, health.

Smoking

I can't stand smoking. I hate myself for giving into this habit every day. I hate how my hands smell, my car smells, my clothes smell, and how my mouth tastes... then I light up another.

I once held a small argument with someone about whether or not smoking was self-destruction or suicide. Why can't it be both? The perfect, slow, semi-painless, pussy way out.

I've quit for months at a time before, once for nine months, but I always crawl back. When I'm feeling weak, when I'm hating myself too intensely to bare, when being healthy seems unworthy of myself, I crawl back. 

It's my only vice. At the bars, at the gigs, at the house party, you see socially confident, overly happy, loving everyone, Drew. This Drew isn't by any means fake. He's just as real as the cigarette he's smoking. But each time that flame comes up to the tip of a new smoke, you now have and idea of the gears that are turning in his head.

Certain things have changed recently. Some growth has occurred. Let's see where the end of this pack takes me.

Here We Go...

I'm fairly certain that I have used the above title on past journal entries and other various posts... but it's still fitting, I suppose.


A bit about me:
I see both sides of an argument too well, thus, making it difficult to do... just about anything.


I love music, but it will be the death of me.


I'm always submerged in projects, whether it's music, writing, road trips, errands, etc., to keep my head from spinning.


Down time is self-loathing time.


I'm socially confident.


I'm constantly seeking new conversations, interesting or not, at least it'll be another conversation piece later.


I people watch more than I watch where I'm going.


I play in a metal band, but listen to and create emo/electronica music on my own time.


I love my road bike.


I love my best friend Katie.


I could go on (who couldn't?), but that seems just about right for now.


See you next post.