It’s a four-Advil-better-double-up-
on-the-Adderall-going-to-need- a-Starbucks-to-start-my-day- kind-of-morning, so here I stand in a Starbucks on a Sunday, waiting for a much needed shot of caffeine.
To my left sits a rock and roll duchess, she has me looking down at my phone every five seconds in hopes that she doesn’t notice I can’t take my eyes off of her. Black nails, torn jeans, chucks and a Nirvana t-shirt – I think I may be in love!
I let my mind create the story. It’s the typical boy meets girl shit, when suddenly, “Jeff, triple grande soy pumpkin spice latte” bellows the barista, interrupting the story unfolding in my mind. Great, now she thinks I’m a 16 year old girl trapped in a 33 year old male’s body. I lid up quickly and walk away. I would’ve loved to introduce myself, I’m sure I could have come up with something witty to say, but today I’m already late for a date that is far overdue. Today is about a date with myself; a chance to reflect, unwind, and finally listen to that little voice inside.
Behind the wheel, Starbucks in hand, no destination in mind, I just drive and let the my mind go where it does sometimes.
The rock and roll duchess in the Nirvana t-shirt won’t get out of my head.
I can’t help but wonder…did she actually know who Nirvana was, or was she just wearing the shirt to look trendy? If so, it’s ironic to say the least. Once upon a time, Nirvana was not worn to be trendy, it was worn to rebel against what was. It was a middle finger to popular radio, though it soon became it.
It was an expression of freedom, an actual defining moment in history when music suddenly changed. They were the cause of extinction to all the ballad singing hair bands, the flower sniffing, kitty petting, baby kissing, corporate rock whores left over from the ‘80s. They were the creative shift an entire generation had been waiting for. As I wonder about her, I can’t help but slip away and get lost in the moment of how my life used to be.
There is something to be said about looking back and the feelings it brings, memories provide an escape still not met by technology. A lot has changed since the days of my youth, but one thing has stayed the same, my love for creativity and the people bold enough to express themselves.
For the creatively inclined that have been looking for a sign – this would be it.
We are living in the forefront of creative ingenuity, a point in time where the next Nirvana, Tim Burton or Andy Warhol can come to the masses without selling out to please corporate sponsorship, something that was lacked between 1996 and 2007, the same time Backstreet Boys release their first international album…just saying.
We are at the height of freedom of expression, a chance where everyone can be heard. And since I’m on the topic of being heard, ‘once again, this blog is not about you.’
I’m bored of what is being passed off as entertainment, aren’t you? I wrote this because we deserve better. Fuck singing shows that no longer create stars. Fuck blog critics with their long-winded, overly-used Thesaurus notes. Yes, I like using the F-bomb. If you don’t, I suggest reading something else. Fuck all these former reality show contestants-turned-
entertainment reporters. There is nothing more embarrassing than being proud of being “famous” for nothing.
Fame should be saved for those who have honed their craft, not reality show morons or sex tape queens.
The world is now waiting to see what you will do.
So here we are now, entertain us! Write if you want to write, dance if it feels right, but most importantly, be your natural, beautiful, creative self.
“I’m worse at what I do best,
And for this gift I feel blessed,
Our little group has always been,
And always will until the end.”
- Smells Like Teen Spirit – written by Kurt Cobain, 1991