FROM THE HEARTā¦.
I need to write this.
Iāve been traveling alone in Japan for the better part of three weeks now, and Itās been so remarkable an experience for me that I canāt book a ticket home yet. I havenāt spoken very much out loud these days, but Iāve been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.
Iām already aware that when I sing, say or write anything, 50 percent of the response will be in support of it and the other 50 will want to discount it. This blog, though, is directed to 100 percent of people reading it. If my blog truly does have any cultural effect, then it should be used for more than just pictures of sneakers and funny youtube videos. (If you donāt think my blog has any effect, than you canāt by definition be reading this right now and therefore donāt have to respond to it in any way. Isnāt that tidy?)
What Iām about to write isnāt about fame or success or celebrity or the media. Thatās my business.
This is about us all.
This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that itās actually toxic.
This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera sheās awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. Sheāll take a hundred photos until coming up with one sheās happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after sheās done poring over images of herself, will post one on her myspace page and then write something like ā I donāt give a f*ck what you think about me. ā
This is about the person trying out for American Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe.
This is about me, the guy who walks through a throng of photographers into a restaurant like heās Paul Newman, but who leaves a ārejectā pile of clothes in his closet so high that his cleaning lady canāt figure out how one man can step into so many pairs of pants in a week.
This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that itās incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, weāre all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right. And I donāt want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the past year, since I decided that I wasnāt going to care about what people thought about me. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that, sure, I couldnāt feel the negativity, but thatās because I couldnāt feel much of anything. And I think Iām done with that.
Iām not the first person to admit weāre all self conscious, Kanye was. But what I want to do is to shed a little light on why weāre all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing.
And really? Really? It turns out weāre just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. The paparazzo following me to the gym aināt gonna be Herb Ritts and the guy heās following aināt gonna be Bob Dylan. Itās just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact. And for me, 30 sounds about right.
What now, then? I can only really say for myself: Enjoy who I am, the talents and the liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more. Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.
Root for others.
Give more and expect the same in return, but over time.
Act nervous when Iām nervous, puzzled when I donāt know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that.
And when itās all over, whether at the end of this fabulous career or of this life, which I hope takes place at the same time, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able. And so should you.
Iām going quiet now.
John
