...On a dull razor's edge.
I really need a life.
I know that my current "situation" will change dramatically over the next few weeks and months, but I really feel like I'm just spinning my wheels right now. I have no drive, no determination, no direction, no goals, and no life. I want to change that, but I don't know how. I have a great job, I'm starting school again (kind of), music is getting somewhere (in many aspects, too), and I'm starting to feel better about myself... but it still seems like I'm going nowhere. I guess that whole pessemistic mindset is plaguing me right now... the existential (I think that's an accurate desctription) asinine thoughts of limited life and pointless nature. That sort of thing.
I've been limiting myself severely on computer/game time lately. It's seemed to help a little. But I've also been limiting myself on sleep time... I've gotten no more than 4 hours of sleep during 3 of the past 5 nights.. and the other two nights were no more than 6 hours. I was supposed to work today, but Brett told me he didn't need me after all. Michael decided to come in anyway, even though he was supposed to be off. I didn't complain, because I was so tired I slept through my alarm... though I also thought I had to go in at 10, when I really had to at noon.
Katie invited me to her birthday "get-together" next Friday. A little short notice for something with "formal dress required." I'm thinking of not going just out of spite, but that's petty, and everyone knows that I'm not like that.
I think most of all, I'm an ex-boyfriend, and we've talked for a total of 20 minutes over the past two years, so what's the point? It's not like we're really friends anymore, and she has a boyfriend right now whom I despise (for many reasons, including but not limited to his status as her boyfriend). So it would really just be stupidly awkward. Unless Rory went, too, because then we could make fun of all the drunken idiots. I've been one before, so now I can make fun of them with less discretion. That's a rule, right?
I don't even know why I'm bringing that subject up... Katie. Ugh. Even though the good times were just that, and they're fond memories, that's an entire topic I think I'd like to just forget. That subject has caused me a lot of pain in the past, and a lot of wasted thought on pointless, fruitless ideas. I don't want to be together with her again, I don't even think I want to be her friend again, and I certainly don't want to be hurt by her again. Just seeing the way she's led her life since she left mine provides enough pain for me to never want to think about her again. I hope this is the last time this subject ever comes up.
I've decided that people who don't like the same music as me are inferior in every sense of the word.
This has nothing to do with the music they like, what kind of people they are otherwise, or even their reasoning for such. They are just simply inferior. All the hate I bear for a specific person, when it comes to this topic, is too much to be contained and concentrated on one person. I have to distribute this hate to no less than everyone else I know, just as an arbitrary amount. No offense, of course.
This woman (if you can call such a spiteful, disgusting creature by the same name of something that can be so beautiful and bring such joy) walked into the store on my second day, while I was working alone. Dream Theater was on in the background. Their latest epic masterpiece, Octavarium, a 24-minute aural orgasm, was playing over the store's speaker system. This was my first customer ever while working at the store alone. She came in and asked about picks. Guitar picks. Asked for a recommendation on brands for her son. I said that a guitar pick was a guitar pick was a guitar pick. It's plastic in a shape that best plucks the string of a guitar. It was all based on personal preference. This afront to her intelligence was too much for her to bear, so my somewhat-experienced and -insightful advice was immediately dismissed, and she proceeded to turn up her nose in disgust. I thought it was my recommendation.
It was the music, apparently.
She listened with a pained look on her face, then asked who it was. I stated it was a somewhat obscure band named Dream Theater. She stated she'd never heard of them. I plainly stated that of course she hadn't, she was a shallow, uncultured cock-slot. In my head, of course. It's Brett's store, and I respect him a great deal, so I won't hurt his business. She said they had copied this song from REO-Speedwagon. Not just suggested that it sounded alike. Not even that the riffs were the same. Nope. It was obviously plagarism.
Let me explain something about Dream Theater... they need a 64-track mixer just to record their parts and put them together. There are more layers in one of their songs than a mortal man can comprehend at one time. In fact, if one of their songs were mixed incorrectly, it could result in such seismic activity as this world has never endured. This is all speculation, of course. But in all sincerity, their music, not even considering the complexities involved in playing it, is so full of nuances and subtleties, that it's not something that's perfectly copied, or something they've plagarised.
My mouth was agape at this point. This was during an instrumental section where Jordan (keyboards) was soloing on maybe.. eight patches at once. That's a lot, by the way. Then a moment after her infraction upon my very religion, James started in with some vocals. Now I will admit, most people don't like James La Brie's voice, and I can understand that. He has a very unique tone and is hard to get used to. But the man is fucking talented and he is perfect for this band.
The disgust played across her face to an even greater degree as she corrected her previous statement.
"Oh, they're not just copying, they're REO-Speedwagon with a terrible vocalist, too."
My knuckles began to turn white at this as they gripped the counter so hard, I was afraid I would shatter glass all over the guitar pedals. Now, I may seem a bit fanatic, but not only do I love this band more than most people love family members, music is my life. If a playwright or actor studies the works of Chekov their entire life, and dedicates their life to the study of his styles of art, then when someone is talking shit during a high-quality production of The Cherry Orchard, someone's gonna lose some teeth. Or at least get an earful of eloquent pain.
The final blow dealt to the emotional and psychological pain center of my brain took place as she walked out of the store. It literally made my knees weak and eyes start to water.
"I guess they'll just call any sort of crap 'music' these days. Even talentless hacks like these guys."
And then she left.
If I see this person ever again in my entire life, I will kill her with my bare hands.
I'm putting forth a decree that people unworthy of the gift of music (listening, playing, singing, or otherwise) are hearby banned from listening to, playing, singing, talking about or passing judgement on any piece of work constructed and composed in the medium of sound. Melody, Harmony and Rhythm shall remain a pristine triumvirate, untouched by the filth of The Lesser and Unenlightened. Argue all you want, but I've had enough of people passing ignorant and unnecessary judgements and opinions on things that can't even begin to understand. This may be the land of the free or something like that, but democracy and the first amendment have made this a country of narrow-minded, unenlightened, psuedo-intellectual, lazy, fat, arrogant, naïve, racist, sexist, and self-absorbed monstrosities. Someone needs to save us from ourselves.
There's a reason that the masters like Bach, Haydn, Handel, Brahms, Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven, Rachmoninoff, Paganini, Debussy, Dvorjak, Copland, and Strauss are still lauded and celebrated today, but you don't hear shit about Vanilla Ice.
Because people back then had fucking taste.