One of my friends says that when he does anything significant in life, he asks himself what the 19-year-old version of himself would think of his life now as a 28-year-old. Although the younger versions of ourselves are perhaps if not certainly very immature, there is something to be said for the blind purity of self that we all possess before it gets beaten out of us.
At some point during my adolescence, I learned to stifle any thoughts I had that didn’t conform to the standards of my peers, as I’m sure we all did, or at least most of us. There are probably those of you out there who still have no concept of what social norms are, so let me do you a favor by saying that people are probably laughing at you behind your back. The good (and bad) thing is, you don’t care, because you don’t know it’s happening. When I was 13, I hadn’t reached that point yet where I cared what people thought, and I actually liked myself too. When I begin to doubt my life now, I ask myself WW13YOSD? (This stands for What Would 13-Year-Old Sinclair Do?…I’m getting buttons and bracelets made…you can order one by mailing me a self-addressed stamped envelope and three installments of $19.95 each. Also I will take pajamas or a Snuggie instead of money.)
Today I got up at 7:ass15 for the fourth to last time in my life and got in the shower. Immediately, I felt a searing pain (ok it was more like a dull ache…wow I’m lying a lot in this post already and it’s only 8:30) in my neck and shoulders and thought to myself, SELF WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO? Self said hey remember at band practice last night when you were acting like a teenager and jumping around and headbanging? You are not 13 anymore, you are 27 now, and we don’t do that unless we want our muscles to hurt, dipshit.
I was like SELF YOU SHUT IT OK. I WILL DO WHAT I WANT AND YOU WILL LIKE IT. OW. THAT REALLY HURTS.
When I was 13, I had grand aspirations of becoming a rockstar. Not just the kind that people say OH GIRL YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR FOR GETTING ME THAT REPORT ON TIME YOU REALLY SAVED MY ASS LOLZ! No. This is not the kind of rockstar I wanted to be. I wanted to be a real live rockstar that yelled a lot on stage and thrashed around and shredded on guitar (my serious lack of hand-eye coordination has prevented this part from happening but I have learned to accept my limitations). Also I should note that my impetus at 13 for pursuing rockstardom was to meet people like this:
I wanted to marry Daniel Johns. Actually if I couldn’t have him I would have been ok with either of the others but it would have been settling.
Side note: I was just looking up Silverchair pictures and DANG I am glad I didn’t marry him because he scares the sweet bejesus out of me now. I think it’s the mustache that makes him look like a villain from the 1930’s.
Unfortunately, my dream of meeting and dating millions and bajillions of beautiful rockstar boys has been dashed to pieces because I’ve already met one who is the guitarist in my band and who I would willingly give up that dream for (go ahead and say it because I know you’re thinking it…HOW VERY FLEETWOOD MAC OF YOU). Also I’d like to think I’ve matured at least a little since I was 13, and that I actually want to do music for the music now and not for the boys. Plus this is an effective method of self-protection against STD’s because I’m sure Mr. Johns et al. have some nasty diseases that I need no part of. NO THANK YOU.
Anyways. We just recruited a kickass drummer for our band so now all we need is a rhythm guitarist and we will be ready and packaged for distribution. This is why I was so damn excited last night that I maybe did a little bit of thrashing and maybe even a little bit of headbanging (what is this, the 90’s? Am I at Lollapalooza? OMG PORNO FOR PYROS) because finally there is a beat behind all of this music that I’ve been laboring over for months now. I know I’m biased and all but you guys we sound GOOD. I mean we will rock your faces off of your heads and you will like it. I think 13-year-old me would be very proud.
Also a request: if you come to a show of ours in the very near future, please remind me of this post and to maybe take it easy so I don’t wear myself out two songs into our set. That or buy me a drink…whiskey sours seem to work wonders for my energy levels.
I’m going to sit quietly at my desk now and count the hours until I never have to sit here again.