Love Isn’t Real

Maybe I need to write about my depression.

Or just write when I’m depressed.

Lately I’ve been realizing that I no longer believe in love. A girl smashed my heart and took a massive portion out of me. I feel like 40% of my entire being is missing. But here’s the thing: I don’t want it back.

I could recover. I could take the time to mend, move on. But I am okay with no longer believing in love. You can’t break my heart if I don’t.

I know love exists in many forms. I feel love for my family. For my friends. For every animal I encounter. But love in the “true, romantic, soulmate” sense? Nah. Not anymore.

You see, the most basic human instinct is to mate. Fortunately we are sentient beings that have the power to decide who we mate with… the problem is, we gotta find someone who also wants to mate with us. I’ve ‘mated’ with many humans. But do I love any of them? To an extent. Do they love me? Sure. Why not? But what happens if any of us decided to date? What would the point be? We’re just going to break up or end up miserable.

*sigh* maybe I’m bitter. Maybe I’m trapped in a negative mindset. Maybe someday another human will come along and my mind will change overnight or over time. But, honestly, I doubt it.

You see, I don’t expect to live much longer. That may be my depression talking, but I don’t have much worth in life now that I no longer believe in love. Yeah, I have my music. Yeah, lots of people reach out to me because I’m there for them, I listen, I give them words they take to heart and cherish. But without love? I don’t see life having much meaning. And if I don’t think I’ll live for long, why burden myself keeping another person happy?

This is good for me, though. I think. I now get to focus my time on myself. Music. Touring. Travel. Writing. Maybe I’ll find a new purpose, or maybe my original thought of music being my destiny will, in fact, prove itself to be my destiny. Or maybe I’ll take my mothers advice and write a book. Or maybe I’m fated to plunge off a cliff in a beautiful and mountainous region of North America? Who knows.

I have family and friends that read this blog, though I’m surprised any of them still do as I haven’t posted much while on the road with Stocksmile. To them: I promise I’m not suicidal. Just depressed. Full of thought. And encountering many sleepless nights.

Clouds You Could Climb

The clouds in canada are beautiful, and hang lower to the ground than where I’m from. They are thick, but thin. I could climb up and onto them if I were close enough. I would watch the sun graze slowly across the sky, and witness a sunset above the clouds; how beautiful it would be.

Time

Time is a peculiar thing. I don’t comprehend it whatsoever, but I do know it passes slowly in the moment, but the blink of an eye by tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m going to Canada for the first time, and I am thinking of a girl I used to talk to from there, someone very important to me. Right now I am listening to Tame Impala and talking to my brother about a trip together to Panama. I’m not sure why Panama, but I don’t see why not. I’m charging my phone while the album Currents plays.

I intend to take a hot shower before bed. I’m going to wake up early and rearrange my backpack, plus pack my duffel and get ready altogether. I don’t have possession of my hoodie, I left it either in the bus (probably), or the last house Stocksmile performed at. I’ll get it back eventually, but I may need to stop along the way to pick something up.

I wonder what Canada is going to be like. I’m excited to witness the subtle cultural differences. I’m excited to eat genuine poutine! And Ketchup chips. And to be in another country. How cool. It’s my first taste, and step, into international touring. I’m excited, I’ve worked hard and waited a long time to experience this moment. International. Touring. The first of many to come! So far away, but the blink of an eye closer to the end.

Hiking Friend

Hikes with my brother is one of those things I can never get tired of. There have been far too many great memories with him on the trails of northern Utah. Too many rattle snakes, tarantulas, deer, and other cute critters met along them, as well as scrapes, cuts, and falls.

Once, my brother and I went for a night hike, and he dropped the mag light borrowed from our mom into a small pool of water. Another time I slipped at the edge of a cliff, and landed on my tailbone. Hard. I felt like I had broken it!

We’ve discussed politics, religion, and the horrible memories of our father.

Argued about life, love, god, creativity in ourselves.

And smoked a lot of weed.

I am moving to another state across the country from my brother, and I know I will long for his presence as I explore and venture the mountains and trails the Eastern United States has to offer me.

Forgetting

My least favorite part about breaking up with someone is the inevitable forgetting. Not the breakup itself, not the pain and misery of the slow recovery, but forgetting them throughout your days. The fact that they subtly slip through the cracks in your mind, only coming to memory when a certain song plays, or theres a certain part of the day you two shared a passion for. Yeah, you never forget them, how could you? But when you go through a day and realize wow, I didn’t think of them all day, it is easily more heartbreaking than the entirety of anything that they could have done to hurt you. You not only miss them, you don’t think about them.

The events of a relationship amaze me. You find a human, and there’s an immediate connection- even if it’s subtle or unconsidered. Then you talk, communicating in the usual way when meeting someone new. But slowly, gradually, you develop your own unique way of communicating, inside jokes are made, simple phrases are said to brighten the persons day- or even turn them on. The attraction grows, the thought of this person occurs more frequently. Suddenly you care about this person. This person is important. Their happiness and well being is important.

Then time goes by, whether a week or 10 years, it goes by. You become annoyed with them, they do something you can’t forgive, or something prevents you from progressing together. Whatever it is, you break up.

Single, again. Alone. Miserable. Without them.

Eventually at some point in the post-breakup process, you have to decide to either obsess or forget. You can’t fully keep their memory alive, and it is a real thing to remain in love with someone years beyond the last time you talked, but eventually you need to allow yourself to forget- or as most people call it: Move on.

My poor heart. I do not like forgetting, that is why I keep a journal. But to forget someone who made you feel like you could live a happy, fulfilling life regardless of what you accomplish, as long as they are there? THAT, my dear reader, is my idea of ultimate heartbreak.

 

I was in Love with You

The mountains.

Plains.

Tundra.

Storms.

I was in love with you in every state I’ve been to.

Now I get to explore outside of my country into yours

And I worry I may fall in love with you more

To see why you are so hell bent on the beauty there

I believed you. Believe you. Will only believe you more.

It is beautiful there

But it breaks my heart.

Days Off Riding Horses

I’m relaxing in a bed in Bozeman, Montana. Thoughts circle my mind, the kind that threaten to chew me up and spit me out. I won’t let them win… not today. I need to keep focused on yesterday’s plights- riding a horse in the middle of Montana’s beautiful mountains. The horses I rode are a beautiful white, and the other a handsome brown. I couldn’t stop grinning, I felt so alive. So on top of the world. I felt as if my cowboy heritage were flowing through me, that a horse is what I should ride. It felt natural to me.

At one point the horse became spooked. The mom of the girl that took me to ride the horses asked me to raise my cowboy hat for a photo (borrowed from the kid who lives at the house my band is staying at). The horse didn’t like it, and took off in a frightened gallop. I held on with my might, pulling in the reins and shouting, “Whoa, girl!” and within seconds the horse calmed into a basic trot. Exhilarating. I felt so free in a way, that I was able to stay on for such an unexpected and rough ride. Maybe I’m a Jaeger after all. My brother would be proud.

I’ve been talking to someone online. I may need to stop, though. She seems to be developing feelings for me… I don’t want this again in my life. I just want to continue existing, playing music, and living each day to the fullest I can. I fell in love once… I don’t plan to do it again. Especially not with someone who dated a good friend of mine, and especially someone I don’t know in person. To be honest, I don’t think I will ever love someone again.

I feel every time Stocksmile performs we are better than each time before. Our on stage volumes are becoming more and more perfect. People are learning to dance and get involved in our unique sounds and tempos. I am loving this. To not only see the progression in myself, the progression of each band members performance, but the progression of crowd involvement. Maybe we aren’t as simple, basic, or boring as I imagine.

“Maybe we don’t see ourselves the way we really are.” – Russell Hammond

I’ve recently started watching the three Adventures of the Wilderness Family. I’m enjoying them! They are a bit corny, but that’s what makes them so fun. I would love to have a wife and children, plus a cabin in the woods, and living a self sustaining life.

NEW BUS!

I’m trying to keep on top of this blog, but it’s difficult with how crazy things have been, not to mention being very sick the first three weeks of tour, and tour itself. I’m not entirely sure what I was sick with, but it was terrible. Sean and Bob got the same thing, but were treated by doctors for “strep” without testing, and they both turned out fine. I wasn’t treated by a doctor. I had to tough through it with my lack of health insurance. I don’t think it was strep, however. I’m pretty sure what I had was more bronchial than anything. My throat was sore, swollen, and it hurt terribly to swallow. Late nights sweating, coughing throughout the day (it was horrible at night and in the morning, I thought I was dying).
Beginning tour in general proved to be busier than I had anticipated, and being ill didn’t help one bit. Sabo helped immensely and loaned me the money to buy an Ampeg 8×10 Classic Series cab. It sounds AMAZING. But I got it literally the day before tour started, and it took about two weeks of stressing over it to finally get the tones I needed. I love sound, and working with it, but not having the proper time to put into it causes gray hairs to grow on my bald head. It’s chaotic for me. But I eventually got the tones I am looking for and things sound great!
Depression has been coming and going, but I’m working through it. Some nights are worse than others. I’m avoiding alcohol, and haven’t been smoking marijuana much. I’m weaning myself off. My grandma asked me to stay away from the plant, so I am going to. I haven’t been getting exercise due to being sick and winter weather. But I guess walking around everywhere for 5 days at SXSW should count! By exercise I mean exploring, I guess. I did a bit when sick, though I shouldn’t have. My brother lectured me good on that.
My bands’ van broke down a few days ago in Grand Junction, Colorado while on our way from Denver to Boise, Idaho. It sucked, and threw me into one of the deeper depressions I’ve been in. I was miserable, frightened, sad, and numb all at once. There was talk of the tour ending, the band splitting up, going our separate ways- I don’t have a home. I have family in Utah, but nobody I can stay long term with. I could have found work and an apartment, but I would have been more miserable than I felt in that moment. My only option, for me, was to travel. Hitchhike. Visit people, places, and experience moments only vagabonds do. A life I feel I would enjoy for some time, but it was all so soon. I couldn’t fully process the thought. I called my mother and brother for comfort. I wanted to message a former friend, but she and I haven’t talked in months… I hope she is doing well.
I felt like hiking. Escaping into the nearby mountains. Disappearing for a few hours… days… months… however long it took to feel better, or to accept and move forward. I longed to surround myself with nature, rocks, animals, trees, grass, foliage, bugs, “silence.” I yerned to be encapsulated by the smell of pine. To roam nude in the wild. To swim in lakes, bathe in streams, dance in meadows, sing everywhere I ventured. But I couldn’t, obviously. Mountains have always been solitude for me. I just wanted to escape.
After a nights stress, and a short sleep after drinking my woes away, I woke up feeling… better, somehow. I drank water, waited until the guys rose, then Sean delivered news that lifted our spirits: his parents were going to help. We researched out options, found a bus in Denver, and bought the damn thing! I’m already in love. It’s surreal, never in a hundred years did I think this band would buy a bus so early in our years. It runs well, is practically new (the engine was replaced and only has 30k miles on it (48k kilometers for my non-USA friends) and it has bunks already built inside. I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love. I wish I could let my friend know about this, she would eat it up! It will take some getting used to, especially because it’s hard for me to believe it’s real, but I am living my dreams one step at a time. It seems that whenever something horrible happens to me in life, something amazing happens in return. Now we just gotta figure out a name for our bus…..

Tour picks back up tomorrow! We unfortunately missed our Treefort Music Festival show with Touche Amore on the 24th, but shit happens. It was a show we were really excited to play. Hopefully we can get back on the roster next year! We are heading to Montana, then east!stocksmile-band-tour-bus-new.jpeg

People of Starbucks

A man reaches for a Starbucks front door handle, but the door shocks him with static. The man breathes in sharp, retracting his hand in pain and whispers, “Ouch!” He shakes his hand, grasps the door handle quickly, then steps outside. “Fuck,” he whispers again, examining his hand.

A petite Asian woman is ordering food, using her cell phone as a way to transfer the payment over to a small machine designed for whatever app she is using.

A man in a smooth, green polo with grey slacks and a belt (dress shoes, obviously) is sitting sideways on a padded chair. He is utilizing the wide and wooden armrest as a table for his coffee. The man pulled a laptop from its case and is now eating food he brought from home- a sort of danish. He discovers the table next to his padded chair. He put his two papers on it. And now he is brushing crumbs off his shirt.

This Starbucks is busy. I spent about 3 hours, maybe more, here yesterday. It is a constant flow of people, a lot are inside doing work on their laptops. Definitely a college town.

Last night we played the legendary 924 Gilman. This venue has little meaning to me, so I’ve already pulled up tabs so I can read about it after this post. I know it is a DIY venue that has lasted for 30 years, but like I said, I don’t really know much about it. Sometimes I feel out of the loop, but it’s okay, I want to learn more. The show was good, but whatever I’m ill with has made it painful to swallow. So I am drinking water and resting. I’d love to explore this town, so maybe I’ll go to the park later (there’s lots of people and dogs). I want to be able to sing again.

I spoke with my mom and brother when I was at the show, expressed myself. My mom assured me I am not crazy and I am just grieving (lame), and my dreams probably don’t mean anything other than what I’m going through and hoping for. I listened to her. For once in a long time, I am listening to someone else who had the heartbreak experience. For once in a long time I am listening to the wise words of my mother.

My brother recommended I begin meditating again. I did for a moment last night with Sabo, which reminds me, classical music is rad! Seriously. I always forget, but classical music is one of my favourite “genres”. Who should I put on, Beethoven or Bach? Or maybe I could listen to someone or something new?

Internal Struggles (Am I Crazy?)

I drank my tea, finishing it while on the phone. I was in public, tear marked voice, the salty fluids welling in my eyes- everything  blurry, especially my mind.

“I miss her,” I softly spoke. “I don’t know why I feel the need to see her. I feel I have gone crazy.”

“What do you want?” The voice through the phone asked me. “Do you want to visit someone who fucked up and let you go, or do you want to continue doing what you’ve always wanted to do?”

A question I had been asking myself, but currently have no answer for. Maybe I am crazy for wanting to have time off to visit someone who, in all honesty, would probably resent me for doing so. Or maybe I’d be crazy to not try, knowing that I’d regret not visiting someone who made such a difference, such an impact, on my life. Do I die never having seen the face, been in the presence of, someone who means so much? It’s like God, except I know this person exists.

The thing is, humans are an interesting species. I’m thrilled to be one, though sometimes I wish I were a tree, or a blissful dog, or an indifferent cat; something easier to manage the life of. Spreading my wooden arms to catch the warm rays of sunlight through my finger tips, or chasing the grey object my human has thrown for me- “OH MY GOD THIS IS THE BEST!” Or simply “feed me, scum” as I poop in a box of sand, covering my feces afterward because I’m not a heathen.

Still, as I write this, I am curious to why my humanity feels so important. Am I supposed to become the failure of the ‘perfect’ love story, inspiring heartbreaking movies and books? Am I supposed to be the success story of a starving musician, putting myself behind music and lyrics to help someone alive after I’m dead to know they aren’t alone in their feelings? Or am I just here on Earth, existing, going through life dealing with my personal struggles, relishing in my personal triumphs, and drinking overpriced tea at Starbucks in a college town outside of San Francisco?

You see, I’ve always known myself to be complicated. To be a bit more “human” than I realize. I think too much, often times getting lost in whatever daydream I am dreaming of. Lately the intrusive thought I have lately is “am I making the right decision?” I am learning to just go, to take my steps and make my decisions without over thinking them. I called a friend to talk about my thoughts about a former love, about my current band, and about how I feel like I am going crazy at times. She was calm, assuring me that I am where I need to be. It comforted me. Today I hope to speak with my mom about the thoughts stated earlier in this post, as well as my brother. And to talk with my mom about the dreams I’ve been having lately, the ones where she helps me arrive to my destination, the same ones where I see my former friend in the last minute- the last minute being bliss. I have dreams that often come true later in life….. I’m not sure about these ones, though. They may just be my inner desire, my subconscious, showing itself in my dreams. The same dreams I wake up from miserable because I know they are just dreams, and I worry they will never come true.

So why don’t I chase them? Why am I here, at Starbucks, writing? I could ask my band for time off. Or utilize our time off in June… but then I would be moneyless, and probably more broken hearted than I am now. But at least I would have peace of mind knowing I made the conscious (or subconscious) decision to actually meet someone whom made my life better simply because they are who they are.

Now, I know love probably won’t blossom. That is not my intention… I just want to meet them. To put to rest the constant thought that I would regret not seeing them, even though visiting them would probably cause them immense anxiety. I don’t want to put that burden on anybody. Maybe I am crazy… or maybe I’d be crazy to not put forth the effort.

I still have the small bit of hope, but like I stated in a poem in the past: I have to suppress it.

Do I have to be normal?