My Confession - Part 3

I'm just going to jump right into it.  Not writing anything for three days has left me unsure of how to continue on with my story.

After high school, I began to work full-time at McDonald's.  I had basically been working there full-time anyhow, as I only had one class during my final semester of high school, and it was an easy and natural transition.  I enjoyed working at night, as there were fewer employees on at that time, and those that did work with me worked consistent schedules, so I tended to work shifts with the same people.  I especially grew fond of the night cleaning staff.  Three very distinct personalities, all of whom I was comfortable around and felt natural speaking to.

The first was a middle aged man with a penchant for video games, comic books, and grotesque humor.  Many would label him a pervert.  Like it or not, I thought his antics were amusing and despite his boorish offensiveness, I took a liking to him.  He would make startling comments about young female staff, many of which, had they been heard, would certainly have led to his termination.  His commentary was a lucid demonstration of decades of intense sexual frustration, that was both fascinating and disturbing.  He often spoke of the strange pornography he enjoyed, or spoke flippantly about jerking off while making jagged, awkward motions with his arms.  Frequently he would joke with the male staff about bending over and using a mop handle in, shall we say, creative ways.  This makes him sound like he was some kind of sexual predator, but rest assured he was harmless.  He had found his niche working overnight cleaning a fast food restaurant, and he knew well with whom he could joke, and who would not take kindly to his humor.  He was over the top and profoundly offensive, but in a way he was refreshing, and certainly eye opening.

The second was also in his forties, balding, with shoulder length curly blond hair (he always wore a baseball cap, so his "skullet" was seldom seen.  In fact, the first time I saw him without the hat I had to hide a very startled reaction to the gleaming dome that was hidden underneath).  He was a drummer, and had played in a number of bands throughout his life, and continued to play, now approaching his fiftieth year.  He was staunchly opinionated, though very willing to listen to others thoughts.  While very personable, one could see very readily that he was brimming with anger.  The idealism of his youth had long faded away, and his unhappiness with his job and current situation was very apparent.  Most of the time our conversations would revolve around his musical history, his political opinions, and his religious views, and occasionally he would become quite violent with his speech.  I avoided him when he was in such a mood, as I imagine he would have preferred anyhow.  I learned a fair amount from him, perhaps not ideologically, though he did have many interesting things to say.  Mostly, I developed a sense of what I didn't want to happen to me.  I didn't want to become so cynical and bitter, and very much wanted to avoid becoming so devoted to my opinions.  I wanted to have his determined sensibilities, without becoming lost in them, and I didn't want to whittle away my motive with drugs and drinking, as he had done, and spoke of with regret.

The third was in his early thirties.  He had a youthful appearance and was uncompromising in his kindness and respect.  This was a person who I truly looked up to - not in aspiration perhaps, but certainly in behavior and philosophy.  His arms were a matrix of colorful tattoos, a somewhat startling contrast to his mannerism.  Our conversations never ran deep, they were always lighthearted and brief.  He was responsible and accepting of himself, both qualities I had yet to truly establish.  I still see him from time to time, during the course of daily business - most recently, for example, at a 7-11 while picking up chocolate milk for work.  Seeing him always brightens my mood, and makes me think that I would like to be perceived as such a person.  Cheerful and kind, unique and expressive. 

While at McDonald's, I moved in with an acquaintance from high school.  He had been working at the same store, and we were both swing managers.  Living with him was a strange time in my life, though I think a particularly positive one.  His personality was both similar to mine, and at the same time, as different as it could possibly be.  We both had a strong connection to music and performance, and playing together was what led to my moving in with him eventually.  Our musical partnership never flourished, I think in large part due to how our personalities differed.  He was extremely confident, outgoing, and unafraid to express himself.  I lacked confidence, preferred the quiet of home, and only felt comfortable expressing myself under circumstances that dictated that I was entitled to do so, such as on stage, or on my own in front of the bathroom mirror.  This difference largely meant that he was significantly more interested in socializing than playing music, whereas I was the opposite.  His time at home was spent doing the things that facilitate socialization, and I was uncomfortable playing music while he or anyone else was there.  I ended up sitting on the couch watching television or playing video games with him and his friends.  Ultimately, as time went on, I never felt the draw of these activities, especially with other people around, and it made me feel as though I was lacking something. 

This never came to any dramatic conclusion, we simply parted ways after a time, and I moved back to my parents house.  I think it was my lack of purpose that ended up making me feel desperately that I needed to leave Brandon, because there was really nothing negative happening to me, I just had no direction, and no sense of self to suggest what path I should be taking.  Two things kept me from pursuing my passion for music and writing.  The first was fear of failure.  I had painted success as something that was determined by the response of others to my singing and writing, rather than my own personal satisfaction at its completion.  I was unable to take the step of making myself heard, for fear I would learn that I was not as good as I thought I was.  As it turns out, taking that step is vitally important, and I was right - I eventually did learn that I was not as good as I thought I was.  But it wasn't until I learned this that I had the motivation to put the effort into being as good as I could be.  That is where I am at now.  I have learned that I have an ability, but that I am only as good as the work I put into developing that ability.  I continue to work to develop my skills constantly, and know that there will always be things to learn, and skills to improve.

The second thing that kept me from pursuing my passion was my ego.  This goes hand in hand with my fear of failure.  I was not arrogant by any means, but I did shy away as an adolescent from participating in things that I felt I was above.  Of course I was not above them, and if I had participated in them I would have jump started the process of development that I now have begun much later.  My ego was there to protect me from the knowledge that I was not automatically going to be successful.  It shielded me from the fear of failure that was so paralyzing.  In some ways, I think I believed that if I had to work at something, it diminished the success of accomplishing it.  In elementary and middle school, learning came easy to me.  I did not have to work particularly hard to pass with A's and A+'s.  High school changed that, but rather than motivate me to work harder, the habits I had developed influenced me to accept the B's as success, rather than work for higher achievement.  I perceived easy B's to be more rewarding and indicative of my ability than hard-earned A's.  This is something I would urge teachers of young people to take special care to avoid - never reward a young student because something comes easily to them.  Use the knowledge to challenge the student, and never let them feel like they do not have to work to earn your respect.

I eventually made the decision to move to Nova Scotia, to go to school at St. Francis Xavier.  Before I left, I recorded an album of songs I had written throughout highschool, and in the years that followed.  I was motivated to do so by a girl at work who had asked me for a recording of my music.  It's amazing what the request of a pretty girl will do to motivate a lonely boy.  I worked with a friend who is a graphic art designer to develop an album cover and lyric book, and spent two weeks recording in my bedroom, with the help of my dad and brother.  It was the biggest project I had ever undertaken, and it was the most work I had ever put into developing something of my own.  Many hours went into the final product, which is something I hold near and dear to my heart.  We used paper cutters borrowed from the college, and we hand bent staples into each of the 50 album covers in order to make them as professional and authentic as possible.  Folding and assembling the last case, placing it on the pile, and looking at what I had to distribute was at that time the most proud moment of my life, and having that tangible piece of myself to take with me to Nova Scotia helped me to get through the loneliness I felt there.

More on that tomorrow, thanks for reading!

Peace and sanity upon us.