Ok, so I didn’t actually start a band, but I’ve joined the one my good friend has brought together.
It’s funny; this is supposed to be a dream come true, but for some reason, I’m not as hyper about it as I would have been two or three years ago, when it was all I ever wanted. Maybe because I know it’s gonna be really hard to make the time, now that I should be putting my energy in classical music. And maybe because guitars dominate. We’re still a project, rehearsing for our first performance, mainly rock covers. I still don’t trust myself to sing, so I’ll be playing for now.
It should be a fun experience!
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I know one shouldn’t divert their attention from what’s being said to who’s saying it, and I know it’s the artist’s aim to conceal himself and reveal his art, but it’s just hard, really hard for me not to fucking fall in love with Milan’s mind. Sitting to his novels always feels like a date with him, an insight into his head. I’m so full of him when I read it probably steals a lot off the experience, but I just can’t help it.
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Deep down, we all know what to do. We just wait to hear it from someone else.
I don’t wanna have that beautiful excuse: “You didn’t tell me. They never taught me. He didn’t give me enough. I need motivation. Just tell me what to do.”
It’s easier to follow the rules than set them.
It’s easier to always convince yourself you don’t know, because once you acknowledge the fact that you do, you’re burdened with the responsibility of doing something about it.
The moment you know, you’re guilty of not taking action.
I want to re-learn to trust myself, to rediscover the voice I’ve learned to ignore: that of my own teacher.
I want to spend the greatest part of my energy living rather than finding very good excuses why I’m not.
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