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Dorks......

Someone could probably write a description of you that would make you sound like a dork.

If all those guys are having fun, who is to argue with that?

Man, if they were happy, or having fun, I would not worry about it. (Honestly, I had just gotten off the phone with two of my three examples, so that's the only reason I was "worried" about it earlier.)

But they aren't. They're miserable..... nearly depressed.

And one would not have to stretch his imagination far at all to paint me as a dork. I guess the difference is I am a "functioning" dork.

I weave in and out among the normal people. I thrive in their world. I do business with them. I play music for them. Many of them don't even KNOW I am a dork. I hide my dorknisity (dorkitude? dorkidness? dorkasity?) so as to be able to get close to them and learn their ways. Then, when they least expect it, I actually SUCCEED in their world.

Mwahahahaha!

You can't stop me! I shall pay my bills! I shall start a retirement account and actually put MONEY in it and not rely on my GUITAR COLLECTION for emergency funding! I shall play music IN PUBLIC..... for MONEY! Who knows what NORMAL ideas I will think of next?????? I am too powerful now. They will know the wrath of ............... CLOSET DORK! :ninja:

(cue evil bad guy music)

OK, so I just proved your point. So what? :D
 
A while back I was complaining to my wife's friend about band members and what flakes they are.

To this the friend replied that people who create and express themselves (artistic types) are all weird and flakey.

I looked at my wife and said am I? She looked away :eyebrow:


For the record I am nothing like any of those 3.
 
Because desire does not equal results. I've seen more artistic types frustrated by that truth than I've seen artistic types that have burned out using drugs to avoid dealing with that reality.
 
The example A guy needs to man up and take care of his family first! It's great to have dreams but he needs to face reality and provide for his kids! I'm also 47 with a wife and two kids. I like having my toys but I can't imagine going so far as to keep my kid's bikes under a tarp in the yard so I can have the entire garage for my gear!
 
A lot of times, people think they survived their drug periods, only to have them come back to haunt them later in life. "Yeah, I took six thousand trips, and look at me! I'm fine! I have a great job, and a nice house, and I'm never late on my bills."

"Sure, but you're afraid of caterpillars, and you're not wearing pants."
 
All you have to do is watch American Idol or X Factor (or some other reality talent show) for about 10 minutes at the beginning of the season to see that there are TONS of delusional people out there.

The people themselves aren't the ones who bother me. The ones who bother me are their FRIENDS and FAMILY. Why would you LIE to someone and TELL them that they sound amazing...... when they SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

Friends don't let friends sing when they can't.

So, I think part of the problem is this tendency we have to try and protect the fragile psyches of people we love. But in the long run I think we do them as disservice.

Somebody TOLD those poor bastards then can sing. And that is the real crime.

I just wanted to put that out there OP.

Friends also don't let friends neglect their kids, live in a constant state of delusion, and spiral down into a depression. Sometimes we need to heed our own advice and hurt the fragile egos of the ones we love, sit them down, and tell them to 'Get your ******* **** together!' followed by everything else you've laid out here.

Rob
:bassist:
 
I like the sound of B and C. If C's band are relying on him to earn them a living then they need to grow up and start looking after themselves.

I particularly like the sound of B. He just wants to make the music he wants to make. So what if nobody else wants to do it with him.
 
Reading all this has reminded me of when I was 19 (I'm 41 now). I was playing in an original band. Band leader was in his mid 30's had seen local success. One day before a gig we ended up at his apartment. He owned nothing! All he had was a box full of memories. I think it sacred me or something. It had some effect on me, I felt that this is what spending your life trying to make it is going to do to you.