It’s like, as long as I can read and see the interesting things that my peers are expieriencing, I can live vicariously through them and not actually get off my couch. With a few cheap photos and fancy wordplay, I can also make my life appear more intriguing without actually feeling fulfilled. As long as I can lie to myself, I’ll believe it’s working, right?

Wrong. It only works for so long.

I’ve noticed a lack of solid, deep rooted relationships in my life these last few years. At first I figured it was all just a part of getting older; everyone finds (or hopes to find) a full-time occupation, have marriages and maybe children to tend to and then if we’re lucky, we’ll have time for other’s outside of our personal obligations. I can easily admit that I am guilty of not allowing a close draw to other’s in my life - simply because I don’t have a large chunk of spare time. However, I use the term “simply” rather loosely because too much of my time is spent online, pacifying relationships that are weak enough to blow to pieces with a mere whisper of a comment taken out of context. 

Real friends will discuss trivial matters over coffee, beer or eggs. They can also get down into the nitty-gritty with alarming conversation like politics and religion without blowing a gasket. In person, we use social cues such as eye contact, rate and pitch of voice as well as body language to signal to other’s when we are uncomfortable with a topic, want to end the conversation, desire to dive deeper into something, etc. We also look for these subconsciously to gauge communication, but with social media, all we have is written dialogue. Facebook “friends” will unfollow you for any stupid fucking reason at all and will use their “wall” as a platform to whip out their dick and piss all over the place, marking their territory because they are equally as unfulfilled as you are - the one who is bitching about the other’s churlishness.

Social media has given me a false sense of connection. The fact is, when I post something extremely personal such as my poetry, something very dear to me; a direct window into my heart, two people out of four hundred and seventy-eight (not counting those who can see my public posts) actually acknowledge it. However, if I change my haircolor and post a photo, I’ll receive forty-eight likes and thirty-two comments, leading me to believe that either:

1. My hair is more interesting than my transcriptions and emotional outlet.
2. The majority of my “friends” on Facebook only have enough time or attention span to scroll through their feed and hit the “like” button on a photo or offer a few moderate words of recognition rather than take two minutes to read thirty lines of poetry.
3. No one really cares but they will quickly remind you that we’re still “friends.”

The number one reason that I kept my Facebook around for the last year was to stay connected to those who inspire me or may be inspired by me. There, I said it. I selfishly kept it activated for my band - the single most important thing to me aside from my family, close friends and pets. I would accept the “friendship” of anyone who found interest in my music, art or voice (theoretically speaking), because I think personal connection is most valuable in the sharing of art and reaching an audience. However, instead of giving my “friends” the chance to hear about our shows, it gives them the chance to easily say “maybe” or worse, “yes,” for their attendance to a show and for me to only be disappointed when their face never appeared at the venue. Hey, I’m guilty too. There have been numerous occasions that I have responded “yes” to an event so I could keep it hanging on my event feed so when the actual date of it arrived, I could decide then if it worked for my schedule or not. It’s a cruel world we live in, but as a host, it’s not always fun. 

It seems that we all have commitment issues and Facebook has only made it more convenient to act on our indecision.  It distracts us from real life and real time. It offers an escape, much like reading a novel but without actual thought provocation. We’ve become social media robots who have been programmed to post at least one wall post a day, shout out a “Happy Birthday!” every time a notification pops up on our right, post at least two photos a week and make sure our Facebook app is in the top row of icons on the first page of our iPhone screen display. It’s pretty weird.

How many people will I lose contact with when I delete my personal account? Ninety-five percent, I’m sure. I only assume this because after my best friend of nearly fifteen years who lives only two hours away deactivated her account a year ago, we spoke only a handful of times on the phone and saw each other twice. She barely has any idea of what is happening in my life and I, her’s. Why? Because I post it all on Facebook and she’s not there to see. The fault is mine.

Now next year, my highschool graduating class is due for a ten year reunion. I had never envisioned that everyone would already know the whereabouts of old acquaintances after we have all moved away. I had never thought that we’d hang out around a table after ten years of not physically seeing each other while saying “Oh, I saw your seven babies on the FB!” or “Your house looks really nice. I have no idea what you’re actually doing with your life but I just love that new plush sofa of your’s!”

Seriously?

We know too much of the wrong things about each other and too little of the important things. 

It’s back to the paper for me. 

That’s what Chris Guillebeau says. Choose a side and know why you are choosing it. Also choose an audience. Decide who is a good fit and who is not. 

Lady Gaga constantly talks about how she was bullied for being such an outcast; I understand that marketing now. With that, she’s gained millions of outcasted individuals as fans and they are loyal because they think they can relate. In reality, they can’t. She’s a million dollar pop star with a vast talent in music to boot. She’s extremely hard working, well traveled with superstar access to the world’s most longed after material items, but the most substantial reason she’s not like them is because she has power over them. She doesn’t just set the trends, she magically creates them. Yet these kids relate because she tells them to. She keeps their attention because she demands it. She doesn’t ask, she commands. She’s a strong leader but masks that fact by sharing with the world her insecurities. 

So I asked myself, who is my target audience? 

Teenagers.

I’ve always wanted to publish my journals, adopt a young teen and share with them my experiences so hopefully they can relate and find a way to better their lives. Connect through my music, my lyrics, my poetry…anything. 

Dreamers. Visionaries.

Those who know they have something special but are too stifled by conservative mindsets in a corporate world to let themselves flourish.

The heartbroken.

Those who want so badly to overcome tragedies and monstrosities or just move on from the one who hurt them. 

The hopeless.

But what can I do for them? What can my music possibly do for them?

Inspire. Influence them to find confidence. Motivate them to stay strong. Teach them that anger is okay, but there are ways to convert that negative energy into positive energy. Show them that our world is not perfect or ideal, nor will it ever be, but we are the arms that can make this world work for us.

At least entertain them. Help them to escape for just a brief moment in time.

Isn’t it true? What we lack in courage, we make up for in judgement.

Refuse to be a critic. As I grow more confident as a creator, I find more strength in my connection to other artists. As I become more comfortable in my own skin, I see beauty in other’s. We all have something to offer.

I call myself a creator because I can’t quite call myself a musician, nor a writer. I am not just one, I am both. I also create other things, but the most important creation to me is my voice. Not the sounds that come from the vibration of my vocal folds, but the voice as a collaboration of my written thoughts paired with music, used as a tool to reach. My voice and a collective voice.

It’s not totally understood why I place so much emphasis on this voice. Maybe because my entire life I have found it easier to put my pen to paper instead of opening my mouth. It’s been difficult to wear my heart on my sleeve and connect with other’s. Always a communication barrier; a wall of brick and mortar. Although with age, it seems to get easier but it’s still an uphill battle. So for me, it’s pertinent to overcome these obstacles for others and hope that I can overcome them myself.

There is no doubt that I focus my energy on my music and writing even when most probably think that I should be devoting my time to building my business in the salon. But hair is just that: a minuscule form of art that only incorporates a fraction of creativity that my mind and heart can give. It’s my trade. Music is, and always will be, my heart. Writing is my work. Performing is my passion. Connecting to people is my driving force. My work is fueled by the chance to overcome all language barriers to unite souls like puzzle pieces. 

So I am called to share this. I am called to reach out and spread my compassion to other’s. If I can inspire one person to be a better human, to love themselves, respect their peers, love and cherish animals and their relationships and dive deep into their passions no matter what, my work has been rewarded. But the job is never finished - I will work until my hands collapse and my voice box bleeds.

Momentum. Such a great word. Something we must keep. But it must be a controlled motion; a slow, steady burn of a candle, not a holiday sparkler. Those sparklers only come once a year and will dazzle your eyes for a mere 45 seconds until we move onto the next. But that candle? We leave it out year round, adopt it as a daily routine and a regular fixture in our homes. That’s what I want to be. I hope for longevity, not to be remembered as a quick fling. I want to reside in the subconscious of my receivers.

Good work takes time. Hard work is a lifestyle.  Only support from here on out. 

That is home. Everywhere else feels like I’m drowning in distance. The only way I can make any sense of that is the realization that I lay out the most intimate details about my life through my lyrics. My body pours emotion and energy and deep in my vulnerability comes a chance to connect.

Why must I be even the slightest bit uncomfortable everywhere else?