Getting Started

I've been involved in a number of conversations with a number of people recently about how I got my start doing something, and I feel like I never have a particularly exciting or insightful answer for the question. It doesn't matter if it's music or writing, I just feel like I found something I like to do and have tried to dedicate my time and efforts to getting in to that practice. 

For music, I was eight years old, I saw the movie "La Bamba" and immediately knew I wanted to play guitar. My parents had tried to get me to play piano first, since my sister had already been playing for a few years and was showing some promise, but I just couldn't get the hang of it no matter how I tried. Oddly enough, I still can't play piano to save my life, so that's something I guess I just have to just throw my hands up and say "oh well" to. I was lucky that maybe a month or two later, a teacher at my school started offering guitar lessons, and I immediately signed up. I was maybe eight years old, and for the first little while, it was kind of hellish: I remember a number of times my parents sent me to my room and threatened some kind of recourse if they didn't hear me playing guitar for at least half an hour. At the time there were probably a hundred things that I would have rather been doing, but now, some 23 years later, I am thrilled that they did it. Because I had a knowledge of reading music and all the basics of guitar playing, by the time I started listening to a lot of music that I wanted to play, I was able to pick things up much easier than friends who were just starting out. 

Since then, all I did was keep playing and playing until I couldn't play anymore. However, I also wonder from time to time nowadays if I have plateaued. It's strange: I don't feel the need to practice much on my own, since I can play what I feel like I want and need to play, but I still always want to believe that I'm getting better at the same time. Similarly, I am the worst person to ask if it is difficult to learn guitar or not: when you start playing as young as I did, you don't think about the challenge, and now that I've been playing for like 75% of my life, I believe that it comes second nature. I realize it doesn't, but I just can't think back to the old days of not knowing anything about guitars. There is plenty of stuff that I can't do, there are plenty of songs that I might never be able to play, but I can play as much as I want to for the time being, and I have to be content with that. 

Writing was a trickier question. You never really take lessons or anything like that, right? Yes, I realize taking English classes is like taking writing lessons, but only a portion of what I learned in school applies to writing that I might do for work (kids, if you're reading this, don't pay attention to that last sentence - school and English classes are the most important thing you can do with your life, ever). 

So when I had a former work acquaintance ask me "How did you get started as a copywriter?" I was completely flummoxed. For me, it has just been a part of self-discovery: I knew upon graduating high school that English and Band were the two areas in which I excelled. When I decided not to major in music, I didn't bat an eye before settling in on an English major. I graduated, I taught for a while, I went to grad school, and all the while, I wrote. I wrote this blog, I wrote lesson plans, I tweeted, I wrote hopefully entertaining Facebook posts, I wrote emails for myself and for my bands; I just plain wrote. It became a way of life. 

Yes, this is the point where you detractors will draw attention to the fact that my blogging has become infrequent at best, and my twitter account has been somewhat neglected, but I have a lot of irons in the fire at the moment. Bear with me. 

Much like music, I don't think of writing as something I work on anymore, it's just something I do. Yes, I work like hell on it, but to me it's all part of the writing process. I read, I edit things that I write, I edit things that other people write, I brainstorm; it's always going on even if I don't have things to show for it. I would like to say that I started writing when I was a little kid and I poked a few attempts at a story on my parents' old typewriter. It was god awful, I'm sure, but it was the first time I sat down and said, "I am going to write something" and sat there until the words came out. It's not unlike what I do now, but now I'm a lot more critical of my writing, and every now and again, someone pays me for the things I write. 

So how did you get your start? Did you determine this path early on, or did it evolve over time? I'm curious more than anything because I don't think that I've asked too many people that question myself, and the more the question rattles around my head and the more I try to formulate an answer, the more I kick myself for not asking of myself and of others sooner.

The Real Cost?

A few days ago I read an article that a local music promoter had put up on her Facebook account entitled "Want to Be a Rock Star? You'll Need $100,000". All in all, I found it a pretty worthwhile read, especially for aspiring musicians.

If you don't want to read the whole thing, the gist of the article is that being a musician is expensive, and if you really want to devote yourself to chasing a dream, you had better be prepared to spend some cash in that pursuit. I fully agree. Lord knows I've spent a pretty insane amount of money on all the trappings: recording, CD duplication, making merch, van rentals for tours, etc. It's not easy and it's not for the faint of financial heart. If I sold off every last bit of gear that I own and gave up the rehearsal studio I love so dearly, for the year 2012 I could probably come close to putting myself through grad school again. Yeah, it's that bad. But I don't, because I love playing music, I love being in bands, and I love the friendships I have developed as a byproduct.

But back to the article. There are a few marked differences: first off, the authors, who are members of a band called Two Lights" are further along the musical journey than I have ever been, and they're significantly younger. They are legitimately up-and-coming, and I respect that. However, the management company they pay for and their booking agent don't come cheap at all. They record in high end studios that cost a lot of money, and despite tracking some stuff on their own, I'm sure they work with at least one, possibly more high-end producers who always fetch a pretty penny. Hello Monster is starting to go down that rabbit hole at the minute as we are finally starting to undertake some recording for our new album, so I am more than aware what the going rates for studios and producers can be. In the meantime, does anyone know how I can sell a kidney on the black market? That might help offset some of the pain.

However, in the article, and this is really the heart of what got me writing this blog tonight, the authors start lumping in some costs that I find much more suspect. They lump in a lifetime of music lessons, totaling about $30k. Yes, I took lessons too, but I did so when I was in grade school and a bit in high school. I learned a lot from instructors all along, but did I say to myself when I was in the 7th grade "Bill, you could keep on learning and possibly become a rock star, or would you rather bank some of that money and have an easier time paying your rent when you're 30?" Of course not, I said I wanted to learn guitar, and taking lessons helped. Having said that, ever since I started playing real shows at about 18 or so, I have never taken any additional training. I've bought books and studied some theory on my own and stuff, but that's it.

They also mention the cost of taking taxis to gigs, and paying a drummer to play with them. Both are absurd to me. Yes, I know, nobody owns a car in New York, and if they do, they never give up their parking spot, but you're in a band. They might as well count the money they spend on the subway to practice, or the electricity in their apartment while they are songwriting, since it's all the same. As far as paying a drummer, maybe they should do what so many other musicians have done with great success: find a drummer who wants to play in your band, not just some hired gun who you have to pay to play.

What's worse, is they talk about the exorbitant cost of living in New York, because being in NY is apparently tantamount to their success as musicians. This is absolute bull. Yes, I live in San Francisco, and yes, I am exposed to much more as a result. But look at a band like REM, at one point one of the most popular bands in rock, and they're from Athens, Georgia. Pavement, the gods of the indie rock scene, are from friggin' Stockton fer chrissakes. In short, if you are good, your music will be heard, and if people like it, it doesn't matter where you are. Your music will be heard and it can catch on anywhere, then you can relocate when a record label or management company is willing to pay for you to live where they want you to live.

Finally, they factor in "lost wages" - since they are spending so much time working on being in a band and making it, they aren't able to work full time, and the older brother apparently even has to turn down writing worth $400 a week. Unfortunately, the vast majority of bands I know don't have this luxury. If my bandmates don't work, we don't eat. We don't have somewhere to live. (yes, the irony of an unemployed man writing these words is not lost on me) I know of two different bands who are currently living in a space that is also their rehearsal space, one of which had it so bad that they all had to get memberships at 24 hour fitness so that they could shower. So don't get me started on wages or making sacrifices for your music.

Phew, now I feel a little better. Everyone who has legitimate aspirations of making it in music also doesn't have the delusions of what the cost of those aspirations are. You spend money on gear, promotion, recording, the whole shebang, and maybe some day you get big enough where you can play all that gear in a bigger room for more people, people who give a damn about your music and might actually be more receptive to buying your merch. But until then, the boxes of unsold CDs will continue to crowd our garages, the epic speaker cabinets will still only live up to part of their usefulness, and we'll all hope that the next person that comes to our show is that person who can finally help us get to a point where we don't have these worries anymore.

Sweet Solitude

This is going to be another one of those posts where I tiptoe around a question because blogging is often a way for me to figure things out. I try not to do these too often, or if I do, I at least try to keep them lighthearted or quirky enough to make them a fun read. Tonight, however, I really feel the need to throw some words up on this page and hopefully some of you read it, and even more hopefully, some of you have an opinion or a take on the whole situation (not necessarily specific to me, just in general).

See, I'm currently reading this book called "Generation Me" which is all about the emerging trend of bolstering self-confidence and entitlement over everything else, and how it is actually making the people it is supposed to be helping miserable by setting up false assurances. Thus far (I'm only about a third of the way through the book) it seems to be very convincing and well thought out, and I'd recommend it to most anyone in my generation. But I'm not here to write a book review, rather, there was one line that really struck a chord with me:

There's also the obvious danger of getting too accustomed to being on your own. If you learn to love yourself and your solitude, it will be a lot harder to adjust once you do find someone to share your life with.

A grim look into my future?

Thing is, for those of you who know me, I haven't had a real serious relationship for some years now, and while yes, there are all sorts of times that I think "I'm a little lonely" or "I don't like being the one single person in the room" there are also hundreds of times where I appreciate being single and only having to account for myself. But my question is this: is that such a bad thing? Is it really detrimental to be happy by yourself? Are we still resorting to judging your happiness and or the fullness of your life by romantic relationships? What happened to self-acceptance and contentment with yourself? What happened to independence? How about friends and family? I got that up the wazoo. I have two excellent roommates, about a sum total of eight bandmates, all of whom I love like brothers. Does this still make me a risk of having difficulty adjusting my lifestyle when I get in a relationship?

My main gripe is that the author is sub-textually inferring that you need to compromise your lifestyle in order to be in a relationship. She implies, rather indirectly, that you need to concede parts of your life you might enjoy in order to build a relationship, which I think is dangerous. Yes, I know a lot of people who absolutely need someone else in their life, and being the singleton that I am, I sometimes have trouble wrapping my head around that, but am I hopeless because I still want to spend time with my friends or my bands when I date someone?

Yes, I know compromises or concessions are made, but that is something we all do in every relationship, don't we? Don't most of us also crave some amount of space from time to time? I love hanging out with my roommates, of course, but I also love nights like this where I can close my door, put on my headphones, and feel like I'm in a house by myself. Does that make me crazy? Am I just a loner? Have I already fallen so deep into this "love yourself and your solitude" mindset that I am jinxing the possibility of meeting someone?

Bah, there I go with all the questions. That's always a good time to stop. Still, if you have any insight, feel free to comment here, call or text if you know how to get a hold of me, or shoot me an email (again, if you have the necessary info). In the meantime, I'm just going to sit here in my bedroom and love my solitude.

The Night Owl Problem

I was first going to write this post back when I was working, but I suppose the fact that I'm starting it at one in the morning on a Thursday should pack the same amount of gravitas.

Here's the thing: I am not a morning person. I never really have been. Given the choice (as I have at the moment) I prefer to turn in somewhere between three and four in the morning and wake up around noon. It's a weird way of going about life, I understand that, but it's just what suits me best. However, whenever I am employed, that whole lifestyle is turned on its ear: I have to be awake and functioning far earlier than I'd ever choose to be, however no matter how hard I seem to try, I can't naturally acclimate to waking up at 7:00 or 7:30. Try as I may to break the pattern, my body seems to resist it. Even if I try to "get to bed early" (read: midnight or so) I still find myself laying wide awake in bed for hours on end until my body is finally ready to rest. Then when the weekend hits, I'm back to my old habits.

This is why, as I fairly broadly advertise, I am a bit cantankerous in the mornings. I have warned people for almost as long as I have known them: if you happen across me before about ten a.m., coffee or not, chances are, you will be met with some manner of scowl like you just insulted my mother. I honestly don't really want to be that way, but it seems like my body is much like a porcupine with its spikes: it just wants to send a clear "do not touch" message to anyone who can see me. I have famously either glared at or nearly flipped off a number of friends and acquaintances who give a gentle honk to get my attention while I'm on my way to work. Perhaps the most notable of these times was about six months back when my friend's brother-in-law saw me as I was crossing the street in front of his car at a stop sign. He gave a quick honk to say "good morning" and I stopped dead in my tracks in front of his car, thinking he was honking that I wasn't getting through the intersection quickly enough. As I wildly gesticulated and yelled "STOP SIGN" at him, he rolled down his window and said hi. Apparently I seemed so irate that he felt he had to text my friend to have him apologize for the "unnecessary spike in blood pressure" he had caused me.

What amazes me more is the fact that, when working, I tend to end up being awake for so long any given day. It could be the reason that no matter how much coffee, Red Bull, or 5 Hour Energy drinks I have, I am still tired until about 10 or 11 in the morning - I think my body just tells itself that it is either still asleep or about ready to go back to bed. More interesting is in the evenings: I can be dead on my feet at 8pm, and almost ready to go to sleep, but suddenly, once the clock gets close to about 11pm, I wake up like an eight year old who just drank a two liter Mountain Dew. It's like I miss my window to fall asleep, and as a punishment, I am stuck awake for at least three more hours. It's uncanny. What's worse is that during that time is hands-down when I am most productive. I'd say most of my college papers and probably at least a third of my master's thesis were written between eleven at night and four in the morning. It's just how I work, so as a result, I feel guilty since I know I'm not as productive at work as I can be.

One other snag in this situation is that what should be the obvious solution of finding a job where I can work nights is that, in all honesty, I don't want to because, again, I get so much done during this time of the day/night/morning that I wouldn't want to use all this focus and energy for work only to be asleep or unproductive during my other waking hours.

In short, I'm kind of a mess and this post has dragged on far too long already. I'll be back in the next couple of days with something that is hopefully a tad more entertaining than this, but as I said, I've had the idea for this post for some time now.

The Closest Thing You'll Get To a New Year's Post

Yeah. It's New Year's Day. (Note: it was in fact New Year's Day when this sentence was written) You know what? It's just a Sunday. I am not a big fan of New Year's Eve or the festivities that accompany, so usually I tend to bow out of most invitations for that day.

I was thinking about maybe doing some kind of music review "best of" kind of post, but the simple fact of the matter is that 90% of the stuff I've been listening to this year didn't even come out this year. (Though I will say that both the new Thrice and the new Manchester Orchestra albums are both worth buying and listening to about a hundred times each)

I was going to try to write some kind of "ten best shows I've been to this year" list, but I realized that would be absolutely impossible. The reason is, I have gone to a stupid amount of live shows this year. So, in the spirit of lists, here is Bill's "I went to that show" list for the year 2011. Seeing it all down on paper kind of makes me wonder if I have a problem.

"I Went to That Show In 2011"

1/22 - Old 97's at The Fillmore
1/27 - This Charming Band and Dead Souls at The Rickshaw Stop
2/8 - Sebadoh at The Great American Music Hall
2/17 - Cake at The Fillmore
2/20 - Godspeed You! Black Emperor at The Great American Music Hall
2/21 - Man or Astro-Man? at The Independent
4/14 - Two Door Cinema Club at The FIllmore
5/1 - Explosions in the Sky at The Fox Theater
5/9 - Mogwai at The Regency Ballroom
5/10 - The Raveonettes at Bimbo's
5/18 - The One AM Radio at Bottom of the Hill
6/18 - Matt and Kim & The Thermals at The Fox Theater
7/21 - Soundgarden at The Bill Graham Civic Auditorium
7/22 - The Ogres and The La Teen-Os at The Knockout
7/23 - Audiodub at The Independent
8/13 - Beta State at The Rockit Room
8/13 - Outside Lands Music Festival
8/24 - Motion City Soundtrack at The Fillmore
9/4 - Daikaiju at Serra Bowl
9/27 - Jimmy Eat World at The Fillmore
10/5 - Blink 182, My Chemical Romance, and Matt & Kim at Shoreline Ampitheater
10/9 - Yellowcard at Slim's
10/16 - Treasure Island Music Fesitval
10/18 - The Airborne Toxic Event at The Fillmore
10/30- Cake at The Fox Theater
11/4 - Minus the Bear at Slim's
11/5 - Thrice at The Regency Ballroom
11/11 - Benvenue at Sub-Mission Gallery
11/30 - Rhett Miller at the Swedish American Hall
12/9 - Death Cab for Cutie and The Airborne Toxic Event at The Masonic Auditorium
12/17 - Lagwagon at Slim's
12/30 - Kalifornia Redemption at The Phoenix Theater

I am sure there are others, and I didn't include shows that I personally performed at, which would add another 15 or 20 to that list.

Hopefully in 2012 I will be able to make enough money to afford to go to that many shows again.

Getting Comfy

As the winter is wearing on, everything is all about comfort these days. People are putting on their comfortable winter coats and scarves (yes, even in San Francisco. I am aware that we are all wimps), they are eating comfort food, and doing "comfort things" I suppose. What those are, I can only guess. I just picture sitting by a fire, maybe cuddling, maybe drinking hot toddies.

Ladies, I would just like to say that at this moment, my schedule is almost entirely clear and open if any of you wish to pursue any of these activities with a certain charming and verbally awkward blogger. But my chimney is broken, so you have to supply the fireplace.

I find that throughout the year, I have a whole different comfort tradition: I am a comfort reader. It sounds silly perhaps, but from time to time I just feel the need to go back and read books that I know and love. Sometimes it's because I want to re-capture a feeling that a book stirs up in me, sometimes it's because I want to re-immerse myself in a world that the book creates, and sometimes it's just that I love the story so much that I want to take it all in again. I don't know if this is a unique feature to myself or not. As far as I know, a number of people are not re-readers. I'm not always, but there are a number of books that I can pick up and read pretty much any time and I know I'll be happy about it.

This came up in conversation the other day: I was discussing holiday traditions with some friends, and I mentioned that for probably about six years straight from the time I was a young teenager, I used to read Stephen King's The Shining every Christmas break. It started because it was the first chance I had to do pleasure reading after my Fall semester had ended, really. I had purchased a copy at a garage sale, and found myself so taken with it that I couldn't put the book down. It's the 100% honest truth that reading that book is when I realized I needed glasses: I'd find that reading for more than 2-3 hours at a time would give me one hell of a headache, so I'd have to stop reading, little did I know it was due to eye strain from my farsightedness. But I digress. I read that book in a few days, and decided then and there to make it an annual tradition, and I think that, especially given my recent lack of employment, this is the perfect chance to re-kindle that tradition.

There are other titles of course, the Scott Pilgrim series being a prime example, where I just feel like it is totally worth my time to go back and read it all again. Specifically in that case, they are quick reads, so I can usually knock it all out in a day or two. On the Road is obviously an "A-number-one" example (between pleasure reading and thesis prep, I have got to be nearing my twentieth read of that one).

But I'm not here to catalog books I read all the time, (you can check out my GoodReads account for that). Rather, I am curious about why certain books are so re-readable, and if I'm a freak for having reading habits like this. Is it a book nerd thing? (I hesitate to say "scholar" because if you know me, you know that's not a term I'd usually apply to myself) Is it something else? Is it something that authors actually strive for? I know this seems disjointed, but I guess I just have to keep hearkening back to the base question: am I alone in my comfort reading repetition? I know a lot of people who re-read books, but are there people like me out there who re-re-re-re-read stuff? If any of you out there have an opinion, please chime in, I'd love to hear what you have to say.

Dream Big

I had a dream the other night. It was about a girl. A real girl. A girl I "kind of have a thing for" I suppose you could say. We don't have a relationship or anything like that - we know each other by name, we interact from time to time, and we are friends on Facebook, but that's the extent of it. She has a boyfriend, and myself being an upstanding young man, I would never stand in the way of that. Honestly, I don't believe, even in my most delusional mind, that she thinks of me the way I think of her. Yet still, she popped up in a dream I had the other day. I never tend to remember a whole lot of my dreams, so the details are hazy, but I remember the gist of it, and that is what this whole blog is about today.

See, usually when someone talks about a dream involving the opposite sex, especially a member of the opposite sex that they are attracted to, it is some kind of sexy dream, or a dream where that person is just so overwhelmingly in to you that you wake up feeling like a million bucks. It's something that bolsters your confidence and creates a reality in your dream world that you can never accomplish in waking life. But here's the thing about my dream from the other day: it was wildly awkward, probably just as awkward as I would be in real life. Instead of dreaming of fun sexytimes and what I could do with this girl given the lack of restrictions, relationships, and hangups, what did I do? I awkwardly talked with her for like half and hour, at the end of which I was just as oblivious about her feelings towards me as I am in real life.

So what the hell is wrong with me? Has my subconscious become just as awkward and stammery around women in my dreams as I am in real life? For all my ways with words in written English, for my master's degree in literature, I am absolutely fucking terrible at talking to women. But why should this carry over into my dreams? Shouldn't I be the great Lothario that I always wanted to be in real life? Shouldn't I be witty and charming and suave? Apparently not. Apparently my dreams are pretty much useless in fulfilling any of those desires, even in a dream world of my own creation. Apparently my dreams are trying to tell me that no matter how I try or how far I may go, I will never be that charmer that I would like to be.

Maybe it's for the best. Maybe I'm not meant to be the silver-tongued ladies man. Maybe I will in fact find a girl who doesn't mind the fact that i trip over my words like a verbal Inspector Clouseau. Hopefully, some day my long, mildly awkward pauses wil come into vogue and I'll be every girl's dream come true. But until that day comes, I will continue to be kind of quiet, always short on things to talk about, and a huge fan of telling women I'm interested in that "yeah... you know... I think you're, well.... pretty awesome. And maybe.... some time that works for both of us maybe.... we could, ah, you know, like, get coffee? Or a drink? Or dinner? My treat? I think? Because, yeah, your'e pretty awesome and you're pretty much... you're... definitely almost exactly the kind of person that I want to get a drink or some food with. But if not that's cool." and then quietly slurk away while they are trying to suss out exactly what I'm yammering about.