Behold! The resurrection! After years of absence from this failed experiment known as Hood Metal, I’m back to writing. Like a bomber pilot returning to ground zero to witness the devastation left in his wake, I couldn’t bear the shame of exposing myself to the old posts, so I burned the whole damn thing to the ground. For those unfamiliar with the previous iteration, the goal was to shoot my mouth off under a pseudonym about metal and hardcore bands I enjoyed in (what I had hoped was) an entertaining fashion. I thought it would be fun to embrace a cartoonish version of myself with the BRO factor turnt to 11, but ultimately the insincerity wore thin. One of my buddies thought it was pretty great, so we’ll call it a victory anyway.
So what brings me back? I guess if I had to sum it up, the love of the game, baby. The pull is always there to write. The itch gets scratched a bit at work, and I keep finding myself scribing out elaborate, perhaps self-indulgent, emails to friends that I’m sure are nothing short of a burden, so why not take my artillery to the shooting range instead of firing off live rounds at innocent targets? Plus all the smart people I listen to say it helps you to better form and articulate your thoughts, which is a huge incentive because my head is generally a clusterfuck of half-baked ideas and philosophy.
To be honest, and that’s something I’m going to strive to do here, there is a litany of incentives to pursue this. One is that I’d love to document my thoughts as I go through the experience of my wife and I struggling to conceive a child. Not so much for the sake of anyone outside my circle understanding or relating with what we’re going through, more to have something our kids can reflect on if they so choose. Gaining a little perspective on just how fucked-in-the-head their dad was and likely will continue to be could have some humanizing value.
I also think it would be a beneficial pursuit, given I hold my feet to the flames and keep writing, to explore and potentially, through the process, remedy some depression I’ve experienced in the past few months. The devil makes work for idle hands, as folks say, and when I’m not burying myself in gratifying pursuits, my head manufactures enough fear, paranoia and self-doubt to crush any semblance of a positive demeanor I may have, which is already a shallow pool to draw from. I highly doubt my experience is wildly different from anyone else’s. A variety of ingredients brewed in the cauldron of my mind comprise a very particular recipe, sure, but we’re all unique and beautiful butterflies, right?
“We never lose our demons, we only learn to live above them.”
Yea…I just quoted Doctor Strange.
The human condition is a mother fucker. At this point in my life, I have very little to complain about. I have an absolutely amazing wife who is as intelligent as she is beautiful and supports me even when I’m not at my best. I have a solid career in the field I dreamt of as a kid despite, at one point in my life, it seeming just out of reach. I have some great friends that I can truly confide in. Hobbies and interests that bring great satisfaction in my life, and yet, it just never seems enough. No matter what is achieved or how high one climbs, satisfaction is a cup that demands to be continually topped off. The desire for “more” never wanes. You can maintain immense appreciate for all you have, but it seems to be human nature to focus on what you don’t, or how you fall short, even without playing the game of comparison. These selfish, greedy desires provide some of my greatest moments of shame.
Embracing the sentiment of the quote above, I feel I’ve found ways to harness this lack of contentment in many positive ways and use it to drive me towards continued progress, but to claim I’ve mastered it would be borderline obscene. At no point has that been more apparent than over the course of these last few months. Providing a stable home for raising children of my own has been the number one driving force of my life, and the unforeseen obstacles that have stood in our way have cracked my facade. I’d like to think I’ve handled the situation gracefully, and I know that no matter what happens, I have faith that my wife and I will persevere and continue to build a very happy and fulfilling life. Don’t let me get carried away, there is still plenty of room for optimism in our situation, but the idea of it possibly being unattainable is terrifying to me.
That, coupled with someone whom I considered a close friend turning their back on our relationship for reasons I still don’t quite understand, has spun me into a state that has been foreign to me for quite a long time and has me questioning the type of person I am. Everyone I’ve consulted on the matter has stated that I took the right steps in pursuit of resolution, but ultimately the failure is all I can focus on and their reassurance brings no solace. Roll out all the platitudes. Time heals all wounds. I certainly get it and have endured my fair share of relationships lost, but this experience has, in many ways, tapped into some other deeply rooted issues in ways I didn’t expect. Things I’m sure I’ll expand on further at another time.
So here I am, blogging. Embracing the role as “that guy”. Everyone can look forward to me encouraging anyone in earshot to check it out. Just amuse me. Smile, nod and indulge my hilarious delusion that I have something interesting to say. It doesn’t really matter and on the plus side, you’ll feel like you contributed some public service. If you actually do read and provide me feedback in person, the shame will probably cause me to collapse into myself like a dying star, so that could be fun to watch as well.
Until next time…