Unapologetically Me

Where does it end?

An age old question. One which the ancient sage of Seacaucus, Entrypio the Meh, called The Grim Inevitable, which appeared as a great-walled warehouse full of low-cost auto parts along the interstate. So, no one's quite sure.

We don't like to consider it much, but we know. It's the same place everything ends. Where all souls finally rest.* Everyone from friends to my dad to David Bowie.

David Bowie lying in a tomb somewhere seems like a joke. Afterall, how could such an outsize being sent straight from outerspace ever be anything but totally alive? Because like you, like me, like Maya Angelou, and yes, (sorry to break the news), even Elvis, we will all slip away. And that sucks.

So, before then, let us be who we are meant to be. Always.

For instance, I have a sweet tooth, but it isn't Snickers that satisfies. What really makes me drool is a certain pop sensibility. I am a fan of most music, but sometimes, all I really, really want is a zigazig ah! I was born this way. Sue me!

My first recollection of singing along to a song is belting out the lyrics to the "Theme from The Greatest American Hero (Believe It or Not)." I wish I could say it was "Immigrant Song" by Zeppelin or even a KISS song, but alas my first true love was an AM radio staple. Alternately, I was instantly hooked on The Beatles, but had to learn to love The Stones, so I've got that going for me. However, it's always the most saccharine-drenched tunes that make me feel like I'm living in a musical. I might just break into a sweet dance routine as I burst into song!

It's just who I am.

And that's who we should all be. The person we are meant to be. I wish the global policy was do unto others as you would have them do unto you. In my opinion, as long as you don't step on someone else's crops you should plant whatever you want, water it well and let it grow. Whatever your deal is, own it. Haters be damned!

If only it were that easy, right?

Let me get to my point, if I have one. It is this. In an ever-changing universe where things feel and appear to be more chaotic and ridiculous than ever, it's good to have a little something that feels familiar. Something that feels safe and maybe, if you're lucky, gives you a bit of a sugar-high.

Take for instance, Blink-181's** new album.

Yes, they are still around. This record shows clear evidence of maturity. No one's taking off their pants on this record. Likewise, the juvenile jokes are not as much of a focal point as they once were. Still, this is a collection of songs that makes you wonder why anyone would ever belittle all the small things. It is an album that makes you feel as though nothing has fallen to pieces, yet. That is satisfying. Sometimes we need a little respite from the storm, even if it means hiding in a heap of pop trash!

More than that, here is an example of being true to oneself. No disrespect, but no one was clamoring for a new Blink record, really. (I mean, other than Blink fans.) But they went ahead and made one anyway.

We are nothing unless we are being unapologetically ourselves. You, me, whoever! Living true to your own heart is the path to a life well-lived. I mean, what's the point in worrying what the neighbors might think? Just get on with the show, you know? We shouldn't waste time tormenting ourselves over what others might think or say. That's their problem. And we waste our precious time thinking about all the woulda-coulda-shouldas.

To sum up: just go do your deal.

Be you, but don't be a dick about it. If creating something makes you feel good, do that. If launching yourself on a dirt bike over a sand dune gets you hot and bothered, then ride on, man. If writing makes you happy,  then go and write. No more excuses. Get started. And if that pop-trocious song on the radio makes you feel secretly happy, well, then raise your voice and sing it loud and proud.

Afterall, there are no points for arriving safely and quietly in the grave.

9-27-19

*Save for Keith Richards, who will be the last witness to Armageddon.

**Of course I know it's actually Blink-182, but it's 181 since Tom ran off to search for aliens. Maybe he's onto something...