I just grow weary of feeling like the fate of my music career is out of my hands. I want to take action, try something bold, keep fighting. I'm so so tired of submitting my songs to nameless faceless people who run blogs and playlists. I would honestly rather die out on the road making pennies than for my life to be run by the numbers next to my songs on Spotify. Social media is a necessary evil but I'd so much rather go play a room of ten people than have thousands on instagram followers. Even if it's a colossal failure and I lose tons of money, at least I took things in my own hands and got an experience out of it. I've never been afraid to fail, I more so worry that I'm not doing enough or there are more things I could be trying.I need some hope, some momentum and feel like the music I'm making actually matters. I want to feel like myself again. All of these industry people can make you feel like being yourself is wrong. I firmly believe that there is some sort of audience for art that comes from the right place inside of you, just have to find it.
I always seem to find myself looking at the sky and thinking "there has to be a better life out there for me somewhere". I have to catch myself often because I know how susceptible i am to escapism. I'm trying this time for it to be more healthy and realize that the problem is me, not the place i live. It's not one of my best qualities but I do think their are certain important elements of escapism that die when we become adults. Life is fucking boring and I just refuse to accept it. Money is the bloodline of life though and it is what traps us in routines and boxes. So i sat down recently and tried to think what actually makes me happy? Music and travel are legitimately the only things that make me happy(although Mediterranean food does bring fleeting happiness). Making money doing that is not impossible but real real close. I have saved up quite a bit of money this past year and written tons of music, so i feel this is a better time than any to try and go on tour. I'm relocating to Nashville for the time being but paying rent while going out to play these shows is another gigantic obstacle. I've considered recently not having a home base and putting all of the money i make back into keeping me on the road. A truly beautiful nomadic existence it would be but it could take years to even get to a point where I'm making enough money for that to happen.
Well I've always believed a bad plan is better than no plan and ones that are born from desperation are usually even worse. Promoting music online brings me no joy, its uninspiring and underwhelming. Playing live seems to be really the only option I have left. I could spend the rest of my life traveling playing small shows and scraping by and existence. I'm setting in motion a plan to do just that. I'm having to pay a company to book the shows the first time around with the hopes that I can make some connections and book shows in the future without having to pay a booking agent. The other problem I run into is that convincing others to come on tour with you takes money or at the very least shows that have high attendance. I can't promise either of those so I've been learning and practicing how to play my music alone. Now i have to learn covers and shit too probably but it is a necessary evil. Fuck it, I'll do whatever it takes.
When you're a kid you have an idea of how your life will be. For a very small number of people it turns out that way but for the rest of us it does not. For most people,it's a fire that burns brightly throughout their 20's and then, reality hits. Most people accept what they must do and let their dream become something else. Let it become a hobby,start a family or put their efforts elsewhere. What if that part of you wasn't able to die or change? It's like a knife in your chest, if you pull it out you'll die but to leave it in, it's immensely painful. I am stuck with an impossible hunger that cannot be satiated. An deafening alarm that can't be turned off. A riddle that can't be solved. ( I thought of lots more of these but I'll spare you.) I used to always say " Fuck it, I'll go down with the ship, i'll die with my love". That's poetic and a beautiful, bold statement but it's getting so hard to live up to. years and years and years of beating my head against the wall and spinning my wheels trying to get my music out there has taken a terrible toll on me. It's like all other doors in my life are shut until i get this one open,it's maddening. Some days it feels like a curse. I think, why couldn't I have been passionate about something that's actually fucking attainable. True passion chooses you, digs it's roots deep and becomes part of who you are.
Recently, I've been feverishly searching for something I might be able to do for money that I don't hate. As much as i would love for it to be music, I just don't believe there is an audience for the music I'm making. I'm stuck in a dark conundrum with music where it is the only thing that will ever bring me true happiness but until then just brings me crippling depression. At this point, failure would be an upgrade from nonexistence. If I had large sample size of people who had heard my music and hated it, I would at lest sleep better at night knowing it had it's chance. with my music though, I make ll these songs that I release and then go to die on the internet. Of course, I cant ask for guidance in this because there is no clear cut answer. Every day I tell myself to chill out, just have fun making music again, try my best and if people dig it, then great. At the end of the day though I need to love making music again and just enjoy it.
I get so caught up in everyone who's doing better than me, self analyzing and trying to figure out what is wrong with my music. It suffocates all the creative energy out of me and I'll sit down in my studio and begin writing, when the thought of " Who cares" hits me. I'm so bad at promoting and have no clue how to make people care about my art. I go through highs and lows, I'm sure in a couple days time, I'll be back in fighting spirits. Maybe there is happiness inside of the struggle, if i could find that and learn to love the fight, maybe I would be more productive. The only answer to this impossible problem is to love the struggle, keep trying things, FIND A WAY. I’ll leave it on a quote from Hagakure “If you are slain, be sure your corpse faces the enemy."
Once when I’m living in downtown LA I saw a beautiful bird picking through a mound of trash. It was so out of place,such an elegant beautiful bird in an ugly by product of humanity. I thought to myself,why are you here? You have wings you could fly away. You can pick fresh fish from the sea and call the whole sky your home, why would you dig through trash here? I went to shoo it away so it would hopefully leave this awful place but it only flew a short distance. I then realized the bird had gorged itself on trash over time and was now too big to fly. My heart just sank, that beautiful bird will be dead in a parking lot somewhere and swept into the trash, instead of returning to the cycle of nature.
I think of that bird often and think maybe I’m not that much different. I may not have wings but I have the most evolved brain on the planet and It goes to waste. We become dependent on situations that are easy but unfulfilling. We get stuck in it for so long and when you finally realize it, you can’t get out.Humans are run by systems and as a wise man once told me, systems can only be beaten from within. There is a lot of our lives that are out of our control but there’s still so much we can do and try. What I took away from that bird, is eat the trash when you have to but never forget about the fresh fish that can be plucked from the sea.
Maybe its greedy or vain of me, maybe it’s insanity, to feel I can attain a life that so many vie for. Usually when someone’s dreams don’t work out people say maybe it wasn’t meant for you or you should try something else. What if there is nothing else? An unshakable image burned into your mind, as if you’ve stared into the eyes of god. I keep telling myself I have to let go of the unrealistically high bar I’ve set for myself or ill never be happy.A person can only take so much failure and rejection. Purpose runs deeper than happiness to me. A reason to exist, a reason to feel like being human makes sense even for a moment. A driving force that is unparalleled and something truly worthy of dedicating a human existence to.No matter how it is received, I have to keep writing and making art because it is my purpose.I just can’t find appeal in the game of acquiring possessions, somedays I really wish I could. To feel the gratification of money and all the things it can bring me.
It could be a coping mechanism but I feel there is true merit in failing. There is merit in giving everything you have regardless of the outcome. Success is easy, everyone loves you, you make money, life is good. True character is shown when no one cares, real grit is displayed when you believe in something enough to single handedly keep it alive. Lately I’ve wondered though,Is there a point in which your dreams end up killing you? Even if they do though, what better way to die then fighting for something you truly love. I don’t think it’s possible to truly push it out of your mind, we just get good at faking it.
I've started releasing my next round of music starting with "More to Life' which hasn't been preliminarily received well. Of course when submitting to blogs and record labels you have to have tough skin as the acceptance rates are so low. I just feel such a calling to create, the only reason I wish to make money from music is so I could have more time and mental space to commit to the cause. I have sent out all the unsolicited emails humanly possible and its just not getting me anywhere. Now I aim to start delegating more money into promotion instead of creating new music. If no one has heard my older music then no one will hear my new music. I have to continuing trying and detach myself from the results. I'll be picking back up on my blog, releasing new music, playing shows, all in an attempt to quell the undying hunger I have to achieve my goals with my art.
No matter how far I travel, I’ve never been able to find a place I belong or feel at home. The closest to home I feel is on a bus, train or a plane surrounded by strangers and the hum of an engine. Not actually having my own life, more observing and reflecting on what I see. A student of the world, everywhere and no where. I don’t exist, just a ghost with a notebook. Soaking up all I can until I’m rung dry by the hands of the earth so I can venture back out and absorb more. No name, no past, no future, just a conduit for the passing moments in whatever place I may be. You could make an argument that life is hard and this is just escapism and you’d probably be right but some pieces just aren’t meant to fit.
Music, writing has been the only glue that’s kept me bound together. It’s so easy to be an escapist and blame the place around you or the people around you. I feel the problem lies within me, I am too set in my ways and maybe to focused on my own story. On the surface I can be quite personable but when you dig beneath that people never seem to like what they find. It’s so hard to find the line between being an open minded person ready to grow and also one who is strongly rooted in their beliefs. I am overly confident and always finding myself wanting to fight the world and stand for what’s right. I feel I’ve pushed away good people by not listening and I want to change. I wish to destroy my biases and reflect in a non bias fashion. My views or opinions don’t need to change in order to properly present an interesting topic in a way that leaves room for learning. Lately, I feel I need more to focus on how I fit into the lives of others instead of how they fit into mine.maybe I don’t matter and that’s okay. sometimes it’s hard to feel like I fit in anywhere, there’s always been a gap I can’t close with most people. Or an impasse I can’t seem to push past.Moving forward I want to look at how I can enhance the stories of others instead of using them as characters playing their part in my story. People make a place what it is and if you can’t connect with them how can you ever truly find a place that feels right.
do you ever feel you have a purpose? something that you are compelled to do for a reason you may not even understand fully understand. Accomplishment is the only feeling that has ever brought me a sliver of peace but it's never enough.Everyone around me seems to want to just go to work and drink away that one little voice in their heads that's actually making any sense. That voice is a scary one though, the one that tells you " none of this feels right" or that bit of emptiness that's felt right before sleep. When i was a kid, I used to watch other kids be so blissfully happy and wonder "why can't I just stop thinking so much and be like them".I still sometimes have that thought when I'm around my peers. All i wanted as a kid was to shut off my mind and just be happy. of course, most times with this problem, people turn to substance abuse but I was fortunate enough to see the dangers of that at a young age. I had sleeping problems my whole childhood and my thoughts became an anchor around my neck that I couldn't shake. It was maddening, having so much to say but just not knowing how to portray it or not knowing how to get others to understand how you feel. Reading and writing became the only ways I could take my mind off of things, so i avidly started reading.
I was at the library one day when I saw a small black book with red lettering laying next to some others called Hagakure( in the shadow of the leaves). I flipped to a random page in the book and read this paragraph ““There is surely nothing other than the single purpose of the present . A man's whole life is a succession of moment after moment. There will be nothing else to do, and nothing else to pursue. Live being true to the single purpose of the moment.” I was too young to really understand what it meant but I loved that i didn't understand, I had no idea how big of an impact this book would have on me. It was a collection of old stories and sayings about the code samurai used to live by. For the first time in my life, I realized a life of purpose and discipline was the only thing that could ever bring me peace. I'm not like the other kids, this burden is mine because I'm able to carry it. I vowed to never do drugs or drink alcohol, I started working out and getting my body in shape.It wasn't a feeling that i finally mattered, it was embracing that I don't matter and that's okay. I am an instrument of purpose and I can use my mind to influence this world in a positive way. The book also taught me extremely important life tools, meditation and complete and utter submergence into the current moment. Another major lesson I learned was unattachment, being too latched on is unhealthy, as all things must pass. I try to live with the constant reminder that I am only a fleeting gear in a machine much larger than myself.
How do you think of nothing? Even actively thinking about nothing in itself is defeating the purpose, it seemed like a conundrum.I struggled so hard with meditation, it took years and years for me to finally be able to lose myself. it may very well have been the best day of my life. I still to this day need the help of running water or a noise to focus on, which makes nothingness easier to achieve. you put your mind on the noise and you aren't thinking of anything you are just focused on the moment. I was always so worried about the future or dying or something awful that I wasn't able to touch the moments as they went by. It was only when I realized how small of a part I am of everything and how little I matter, that I could throw myself at my purpose with wreck less abandon.Live as though I am already dead, let go of fear and doubt. Of course, I'm human I have emotions,I get sad at times and lose sight of the epiphany i had all those years ago. Any time I'm feeling that way though, I pick up Hagakure and read back through and I always feel better. It is the oldest possession I own, I never travel without it and it's the only possession I truly cherish. I leave you with this another one of my favorite paragraphs "“If one is not unattached to life and death, he will be of no use whatsoever. The saying that “All abilities come from one mind” sounds as though it has to do with sentient matters, but it is in fact a matter of being unattached to life and death. With such non-attachment one can accomplish any feat.” I wont turn my back on the difficult thoughts or paths, I will embrace them and live inside of each moment unafraid of the next.
As I’ve walked around Europe,mostly in Switzerland, I just feel like a ghost. Watching people happily going about their lives together, the most important part of cultures is how people interact with each other.Quietly writing things down in my notebook, reflecting on what’s around me but not actually experiencing it. I can’t understand anyone or really interact with anyone, people just sort of look past me. Shed my cumbersome skin of my life in America to become a lost wraith floating through a foreign land searching for perspective by surrendering myself to the undeniable transformative powers of being uncomfortable.Experiencing other people’s cultures alone can be so strange, especially if you’re me.There is some solace in being so invisible but the inability to connect can be maddening. I spent so much time inside of my beanie wrapped head as it vibrated against the window of a train headed to a destination I can’t pronounce. It's such a lonely feeling to be so close to many people but feel so far away from all of them.Bern was very quiet and reserved, well besides the train stations because they were ragin. Just 17-18 year old kids pounding beers, listening to music. It was very expensive and I spent most my time traveling to surrounding areas.Switzerland is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. You have to just go see it for yourselves. I will say though after hearing romantic languages like French and Italian the whole trip, switching to hearing German was rough on the ears. A delicious little croissant with chocolate is called a schoggibrötli which instantly makes it sound unappealing.
Solo travel is definitely a good thing and can help you grow but no one is around to share the experience all your stories are just stories, there’s no real validity to them.Of course,if you are a social butterfly and good with people you may find your experience different. I’ve met people along the way but our paths just veer in different ways. Now with the rise of social media, being alone kind of just feels like you are doing it to look cool on social media.Many times on this trip I’ve felt that way about myself. The question comes up why are you here? What did you come all this way to learn?Honestly two reasons 1. To break my writers block and 2. Traveling brings a very attainable sense of accomplishment.Writers block for me is like having a puzzle in which you know how all the pieces fit together but the tiles are all blank. I’m not trying to totally swear off solo trips but definitely shorter ones and probably ones where a beach is involved. I keep telling myself to stop treating this like a fucking homework assignment but this blog has also given my trip so much meaning.
Reflecting on my experience through writing gives the trip a deeper purpose.also, anyone reading this I truly appreciate it.i loved this trip it was amazing but I will say if you’re going to backpack or go on a long journey bring someone you enjoy along. Otherwise, it’s just lookin cool on Instagram. By being alone I was able to give an interesting insight. I kind of hate the whole backpacker identity. Aimlessly wandering is not exactly admirable. What’s admirable to me is building a community with culture and roots, not just being a tourists of others doing it. Travel is important I would do it endlessly but I hate the backpacker mentality. It becomes a game of “ well look at all the places I’ve been, where have you been?”. Okay but what did you learn or take away from any of that besides Instagram pictures? Travel always helps me get perspective though, now back to America to finish my EP which during my trip I have named. Let's call it "Caveat", I've been writing so much again, starting to feel like myself.
The minute I stepped off the train the warm Italian sun welcomed me, seeping through my skin to warm my bones. France had been cold and windy so weather wise this was a nice change of pace. As any American tourist bro would do I immediately set off in search of pizza, which was obviously easy to find.I struck out on my first two attempts, I was just so tired so I settled for whatever was close. Pizza is done by weight here, there’s a big pan of pizza you define how big of a piece you want they cut it off, weigh it and price it based off that. Now initially I was like wow that’s a dumb system but ya know it really grew on me. I would just hop from pizzeria to pizzeria (11 in three days) and get small slices so I could try a wide array of pizza.also tons of great pasta. I have a lot of working out to do when I get back ,dear lawd.
Romans are cool they just do their thing and let you be part of it,I dig it. I also got mistaken for Italian non stop, being racially ambiguous in Europe is quite fun.You got the feeling that romans were so proud of their city, that they were excited for others to see it. Of course as it goes with any awesome place on earth it was inundated with tourists, which made seeing ancient Rome very difficult and you really have to pay attention to the time you go to popular places. Usually a good rule of thumb to know if you’re in a touristy area is to obviously look for souvenirs shops but they never ended. The area I was staying in had ten on every block. Only good part about tourists is I siphoned so much knowledge off following tour groups around. I ventured to some parks on the outskirts of the city center and they were beautiful.The best surprise about Rome though was all the incredible busking, I saw so many talented musicians. I’m not a big fan of the idea of busking but Rome has certainly changed my mind about it, it can be done tastefully.Rome is so much more than it’s history, it’s a living breathing entity with so much culture here in the present. I took zero metro buses which was I will admit lots of walking but totally worth it. Be careful walking though because in Rome they have what I call “Good Luck” intersections. No lights, no real system in place it’s just play roulette with your life no big deal. Just have to hope cars stop for you or else you just don’t get to cross that street, dope.Aside from the tourists I loved Rome, I learned so much, grew as a person and left inspired. Now unfortunately I have to move on from Rome to Venice.
Okay Venice, well hmm, uhh let’s start with positive things. It’s beautiful, it’s the perfect day trip and uh lots of gelato. Now on to the not so positive stuff. The streets are so incredibly annoying to navigate, you literally have to have a map in hand referencing it on every single street. The tiny little streets are flooded with tourists and every idea you have 40 other people have already had it and beat you there. The locals seem to just completely ignore us tourists like pestering ghosts they try to pretend don’t exist. In such a small place it’s literally impossible not to impede on their lives. The vendors couldn’t care less about Venice or the tourists they are sharks out to get their money, which I guess I understand but Jesus at least fake it. When a single guy like me sits down they begrudgingly take my order and shove me out the door. Now if a table of four older white women come in holy shit, grab the accordion,put on this Italian chef hat and our Italy aprons,oh momma Mia let’s lay it on thick.Lots of it felt like a caricature of Italian culture, just so over the top, force feeding that “genuine Italian culture” down tourists throats. Bottom line is three days is entirely too much to go there as a tourist. Do a day trip, take some pics of the waterways, take a gondola( if you’re rich because it’s 80 euros for 20 mins) drink some wine, eat some food and move on with your life. The food was also all mediocre and overpriced. I hate to be negative but I hate being dishonest even more. After three days I was running off that island. In closing I’d like to say this, the best pizza I have ever had was in Italy but I still like pizza in America better overall. Sue me.
P.s I heard a woman give her dog commands in English and in Italian, I then thought “ that dog is more bilingual than I am”.
Ah Paris, I’ve waited so long, my trip was short but I wanted to reflect on somethings I picked up on while I was thereI didn’t get much sleep on the plane, a common occurrence in my travels because the amount of times I’ve declined a free cup of coffee is zero. Real quick let me get this out of the way, I know when they start boarding the plane you want tor immediately get up and stand in line but don’t. I mean they aren’t going to leave without you if you are right there. Just stay in your seat then when the line dies down just board and go straight to your seat,no lines. I mean this is also if you travel by backpack which you should, so you don’t have to mess with overhead storage. people act like other countries don’t have laundromats.By some miracle I was out of the airport in ten minutes and that is not an exaggeration. When I got on the train though,an entire day of buses, trains and planes caught up to me and I was a goner. In typical Hythum fashion I slept through my stop(which i was legendary for doing in LA) and my phone died. Luckily,since I’m a bit more well traveled and I know my life is one hilarious calamity after another, I grabbed a paper map for insurance. After getting off the train from the airport a strange wave of loneliness washed over me. I was so tired, lost and everything just felt so foreign, it didn’t help I kept passing happy couples traveling together, I’m only human I guess. In order to lift my spirits I went to a bakery ordered a Jambon-Beurre (French ham baguette sandwich) and a raspberry macaroon, so good. I did finally make it to my hostel, got some sleep and I was reborn. I set out as quick as I could and walked through the streets until nearly morning.Bakery after bakery, I would go to windows and point at things I couldn’t pronounce and was never once disappointed. My favorite was definitely the French classic Pain au chocolat, which is pretty much a croissant with little chocolate pieces. So simple, so French, so good. If you are trying to avoid carbs lemme tell ya, stay away from Paris,it’s carb heaven. I also absolutely loved the baguette sandwiches, they were everywhere, they were delicious and cheap, what more could you ask for? A realization I’ve come to is brewed coffee is not very popular in many places besides America, it’s all just espresso drinks. Now I’m stupid and thinking “ I know how to say coffee in French,check this out”. “puis-je avoir un café” I said,after having a giggle at my American-ness he comes back with a shot of espresso, okay lesson learned. Next place I go to I think okay, say americano that’s known here. I order an americano to which he replied and this is verbatim “I don’t speak nothing” and walked away, hmm that didn’t go as planned,I’m now 0/2. Next place I go to I try explaining to the man I just wanted espresso with hot water to which he then replies with the magic words “ahhhh Café alongé” ( which I later found out translates to long coffee) and with those two sweet words I cracked the cipher. I had a crepé each day but so many different options in this realm. I usually go for sweet(banana Nutella, strawberry, chocolate) but I once I said I’ll have one of those and pointed at whatever the guy next to me was having and it was delicious. Not sure what the meat it was to be honest but lots of cheese and very delicious.A great surprise I found that I hadn’t really read about anywhere was the amount of delicious kebab in this city. Where I was staying near Le Kremlin-Bicêtre, there was a kebab joint on every block and run by immigrants from all over the world. 5.50 Euros for a delicious kebab sandwich with fries? Sign.Me.Up.
Okay begrudgingly moving on from food.Paris has one of the most defined identities of any place I’ve ever been to. It’s like every street has a robust story to tell.America is such a melting pot that sometimes it’s hard to nail down concrete aspects of our culture. I don’t mean that in a bad way though being a melting pot is a good thing, it’s just hard to really define American culture for me.here it felt culture wasn’t divided by race or social status, it more felt like everyone was kind of united by their frenchness.Even immigrants serving food from their own country had a French twist to it. What a beautiful language,I found myself staring at people wishing I could understand. It was inspiring even watching people talk because they do so with so much passion and depth in their speaking. And my god they are all so happy to see each other. I kept seeing friends kissing each other screaming like they hadn’t seen them in a decade. In America it’s more like” sup bruh”.Now usually museums are kinda whatever for me, I’ve just been to so many and they never really do much for me but the Louvre was way different. If you go to Paris take a day to really appreciate it, there’s so much to see and so much information to retain. If you are only an English speaker though beware a lot of the descriptions are only in French but they offer Nintendo 3ds guides you could take with you in many different languages. Seeing the original Mona Lisa is kind of surreal, I never really cared about it before but up close there is something to it. I started thinking that painting is over 200 years older than the United States, that’s kind of mind blowing. Paris seems to have such a high respect for arts and being an artist here seems to retain more respect than it does back in the US or at least that’s the feeling I got.
The best advice I can give is to walk Paris. I cannot stress enough how many little hidden gems you’ll find by walking. Some amazing bakery, incredible graffiti,a street performer, some historical something or other. Of course, nothing wrong with using the metro to get certain places and even that in itself is an experience. Now I’m off to nice for two days which there probably won’t be much to talk about because I’m going to chill real hard, Paris wore me out.
Recently I've been thinking about people who move to other places with an elitist mentality that they are somehow above the people they left behind (aka myself). I moved to Indianapolis from Los Angeles awhile back and I've been realizing a lot about myself and my move to Los Angeles. My biggest take away is that people make a place and also that you cannot lump an entire group of people together based on the place they live. I've been avoiding the Midwest like the plague for the past couple years and while yes, it isn't my favorite place in the world, it deserves much more respect than I have given it. I do believe that we always have to chase opportunities wherever they are, so if there's an opportunity to improve your life somewhere take it. Some people just want a change of scenery, nothing wrong with that. I guess i had typecast people in the Midwest as small minded and short sighted but since I've been back I've seen so much art and heard so many dreams and so many stories that have really inspired me to realize that I'm dead wrong, as I am quite often. I thought if i got to LA people would see me differently and I'd be somehow cooler. I could paint a social media picture that would impress others, at family functions they would talk about me as if I were a myth. Through depression,poverty and unrest I continued to fake it for Instagram, desperately trying to convince people that my pilgrimage to the land of the misunderstood was fruitful but it was not. Honesty isn't coveted, results are. Living selfishly and distancing yourself from others to get them to envy you isn't cool, it's sad.
LA killed lots of bad parts of me and for that I am very thankful. No longer do i desperately try to publicize my identity as an artist, it's something I know and feel deeply and I no longer need to convince others of it. It's so off putting to look around at everyone trying so hard to convince each other that they are this or that, its fucking exhausting. Social media has created this awful pressure on all of us that we aren't living the lives we should be and I fell victim very hard. LA gets a bad rep though, I do have a special love for that city. Honestly, my favorite people I met were locals, the cancer on that place was all of us transplants with our hands out. Wanting the city to validate us and give us our identities, wanting everything and not offering much in return. Reinventing ourselves into how we want to be seen instead of seeing what we actually are inside.
Everyone has a different journey and I would never want to discourage anyone from moving to a new place but more so just questioning the reasons behind it. The question I keep getting is "why would you ever move back from Los Angeles to indiana?" Besides the obvious financial reasons, this will sound weird but I missed the bleakness. There is something profound about silence on a cold, grey day, it's like a warm blanket for me. I think by nature I am just a melancholy person, so endless smiles and sunshine wore on my soul. I yearned for the richness and depth of dreariness. LA was sort of one dimensional for me, I don't want just sunshine and happiness, I want the whole spectrum. With large cities though, you'll never have two stories that are the same, so it's really hard to take anyone's word for it, you just have to roll the dice for yourself. I want to also touch back on that fact that people make a place. In my mind, Pretty much if you put all the people you love in one place it doesn't really even matter where that is.
There was such an tremendous pressure to feel happy in LA that you almost felt guilty on days you just weren't feeling it. Which leads to lots people just faking it or else you get pegged as negative or just not good enough to be there. We live in a time where we are spoon fed FOMO and it honestly just takes confidence to know who you are and where you want to be. This took lots of time and traveling for me. I never know where I'll end up from year to year but I do know this motivated, amazing people are everywhere not just on the coasts, not just in the places you've heard of. They are in small towns, they are hidden in big cities, the world around us is what we make of it. To me, the true heroes are the people putting effort into their hometowns, asking what they can do to improve it, instead of just abandoning it. It's not as flashy, it takes more time but it's so incredibly important. So wherever I end up from year to year I want to ask myself, How can I give to that place instead of just expecting things out of it. I will be posting more often and apologize for the long gaps between posts. I'm traveling through Europe next month and will most definitely be writing reflections on that!