03-08-2016, 02:43 AM
Ever felt like this?
Leanne,
When I first read this post and the title that wanted an answer to a specific question I went all 'human' and forgot that there was a question in the title. What could I possibly say that would make sense? Who am I to try and give advice? I can't even write poetry, so what do I say? Oh, don't worry it will get better? Watch a sunrise? Think of the children in Africa?
Have I ever felt like this?
Not about poetry, but about the one single thing that I thought defined me, playing guitar and creating music.
My world also didn't fall apart, I refused to let it, but not in a healthy way. Like the death of a friend that instead of accepting and being sad about I just carried on as normal as I could and if the thought crept into my mind I would shift it, I would shift me. In the space of about two weeks I went from playing guitar 10 hours a day to nothing, I couldn't even pick the guitar up and force myself to play. I kept on thinking that next week would be back to normal no problem, but it wasn't. I still listened avidly to guitar music and read about it, the techniques of the blues legends that I love. I worked out different tunings that I knew would work and be interesting and wrote blog articles about certain guitarists, all in all I was doing exactly the same as what you called "staying ahead of the game".
But really, when I gave it slightly more attention than the many brief thoughts that I had slapped down as quick as they had rose up, it fucked my head up because I knew I couldn't explain it. It made no sense whatsoever. Guitar didn't define me, music didn't define me, they were me. They realigned everything that the world had muddled, they walked with me down the street, they were the way I projected any kind of emotions and they dealt with it all, they accompanied it all, it was always perfect.
And still it fucked my head up and still it made no sense and still doesn't. It lasted two years or so and then gradually things changed back again. The thing that baffles me the most is that it is baffling. Depressed? I don't think so. Did I fall out of love with it? No, I still loved it as much as I always did, I just didn't/couldn't play and without it I didn't feel as though I was me anymore, I didn't feel human.
I never really told anyone. How could it possibly make sense or be relevant to anyone. I could never be able to express what it meant to me and how totally and utterly helpless I felt... Oh, boo fucking hoo, you don't play guitar anymore. It'll get better. Think of the children in Africa... There are only so many times that you can metaphorically throw people out of a window before everyone starts asking to meet in a field, so I just didn't tell anyone. But it still fucked me up bad, because it was so inexplicable.
I'd love to be able say something soothing and magical that will fix it all. Inhale some stardust and listen to the ocean roar three times a day before meals and more than likely nothing will change. Perhaps it is meant to mess your head up, ultimately I think that no time is wasted. A best friend dying can have as much effect on my guitar playing and music as a year of regular methodical practice and playing, its just not always obvious until much later.
Mark
Leanne,
When I first read this post and the title that wanted an answer to a specific question I went all 'human' and forgot that there was a question in the title. What could I possibly say that would make sense? Who am I to try and give advice? I can't even write poetry, so what do I say? Oh, don't worry it will get better? Watch a sunrise? Think of the children in Africa?
Have I ever felt like this?
Not about poetry, but about the one single thing that I thought defined me, playing guitar and creating music.
My world also didn't fall apart, I refused to let it, but not in a healthy way. Like the death of a friend that instead of accepting and being sad about I just carried on as normal as I could and if the thought crept into my mind I would shift it, I would shift me. In the space of about two weeks I went from playing guitar 10 hours a day to nothing, I couldn't even pick the guitar up and force myself to play. I kept on thinking that next week would be back to normal no problem, but it wasn't. I still listened avidly to guitar music and read about it, the techniques of the blues legends that I love. I worked out different tunings that I knew would work and be interesting and wrote blog articles about certain guitarists, all in all I was doing exactly the same as what you called "staying ahead of the game".
But really, when I gave it slightly more attention than the many brief thoughts that I had slapped down as quick as they had rose up, it fucked my head up because I knew I couldn't explain it. It made no sense whatsoever. Guitar didn't define me, music didn't define me, they were me. They realigned everything that the world had muddled, they walked with me down the street, they were the way I projected any kind of emotions and they dealt with it all, they accompanied it all, it was always perfect.
And still it fucked my head up and still it made no sense and still doesn't. It lasted two years or so and then gradually things changed back again. The thing that baffles me the most is that it is baffling. Depressed? I don't think so. Did I fall out of love with it? No, I still loved it as much as I always did, I just didn't/couldn't play and without it I didn't feel as though I was me anymore, I didn't feel human.
I never really told anyone. How could it possibly make sense or be relevant to anyone. I could never be able to express what it meant to me and how totally and utterly helpless I felt... Oh, boo fucking hoo, you don't play guitar anymore. It'll get better. Think of the children in Africa... There are only so many times that you can metaphorically throw people out of a window before everyone starts asking to meet in a field, so I just didn't tell anyone. But it still fucked me up bad, because it was so inexplicable.
I'd love to be able say something soothing and magical that will fix it all. Inhale some stardust and listen to the ocean roar three times a day before meals and more than likely nothing will change. Perhaps it is meant to mess your head up, ultimately I think that no time is wasted. A best friend dying can have as much effect on my guitar playing and music as a year of regular methodical practice and playing, its just not always obvious until much later.
Mark
wae aye man ye radgie