Gluttons

I realized today that human beings are gluttons for stress and anxiety. Namely, artists, but I would venture to say this is pretty universal.

I doubt this is new information for anyone, I’m just trying to process the idea.

Take for instance, web 2.0. In some ways it creates quicker productivity, connectedness, community, etc. But all of those things come at the price of anxiety.

How often we apologize for things that never used to exist:

“Sorry I’ve been a slacker lately with blogging…”

“Sorry I missed your IM…”

“Sorry I haven’t returned your message…”

“Sorry it took me three weeks to approve your friend request…”

And besides the apologies and guilt that create anxiety, so does the constant sense of needing to maintain all of that stuff…

+gotta check myspace
+gotta update twitter
+gotta write a blog
+gotta check my rss feed
+speaking of, I can’t believe how many blogs i have to catch up on reading
+gotta check facebook
+need to upload photos
+did they sense the sarcasm in my comment?
+i haven’t logged into virb in months
+did i respond to fast? too slow?
+how many readers do i have?

Seriously, I could go on and on and I assume you all could chime in.

And that’s just web 2.0 stress.

That, on top of a vast array of insecurities and anxiety about music and life in general… I feel like if I’m really honest I’m a total glutton for it…and I see it in some of my closest friends, too…its like fuel.

I’m not sure why we do it. I’m not sure why I do it. I just do.

 

the only thing that makes sense anymore

Did you see Across the Universe? I hope you did, and you should.

There’s one point in the movie where one of the characters says that the only thing that makes sense anymore is music. I hear that line echo through my mind almost daily.

I played a show last night in New York…I ended up having to go in alone, which kind of stressed me out. I’ve gone in alone to the Lower East Side before, but I’m semi familiar with that neighborhood and this show was in Greenwich Village, a place I’m not so familiar with. I hate going to shows alone, because that always leaves me having to figure out how to load-in and load-out without help, and my piano is a freaking beast and its always a little sketchy to leave your car parked illegally while you’re loading in when you’re on your own. I always survive though, I don’t know why I get stressed about it. Nevertheless, I was stressed about parking because street parking is impossible to find in the village and already that evening I managed to acquire a $65 parking ticket while I was grabbing some food inside a pizzeria. A car in New York is such a pain in the bootay. Driving to and around Manhattan is ok; the problem is what to do with your car when you want to get out of it.

The reason I say all this is because of what I realized my coping mechanism was in the midst of the stress: I kept reminding myself everything was going to be fine because soon enough I would be playing music. I think the the technical term for that is imagining myself in my “happy place”. Honestly though, I kept picturing myself sitting at the piano and singing and doing my thing and that scene is what made me feel better, and made the giant parking ticket and crappy pizza totally worth it. Performing is actually the stress reliever…

It makes me love that line from the movie even more…music is the only thing that makes sense. It brings order to the chaos that is New York.

I love it. Music is the greatest.

Alright…that’s it for now with my introspective outpourings….

julie