One week ago I went to Terminal 5 to see Michael Franti and Spearhead play.  I first encountered them back in 2009 when they were at Summer Stage with Counting Crows (who was the headliner, and who I've seen 4 times). This time MF & SH were the headliners, and have gotten a hit on the radio, "Say Hey," and the band has gotten even better over time.  Very positive message, lovely rap/reggae/dancehall mix, and I had an awesome time! 

It's interesting to look back again since the last time I was in Terminal 5 was Nine Inch Nails' "farewell" tour (although of course Trent Reznor's back again).  The mosh pit was insane and my friend and I were directly behind it, but loving the concert and packed like sardines.  When it was over, we ducked out a back door to avoid the front door crush, and when waiting for a taxi home, some guy who was in the pit came out and LITERALLY wrung the sweat out of his shirt.  That's how crowded and hot it was!

This time it was naturally far more mellow because of the type of band and also that the place wasn't completely sold out so there was room to roam, three separate levels, and overall just an experience I needed.  Some time just to dance, to enjoy, to forget for a while about my daily life, work, and anything but moving with the music. There are times in my life when I remember a sort of zen moment and this was the first in a long time. I miss those moments, when you don't have to overthink and conversations, motivations, and actions all flow 100% naturally (and no, I wasn't high). I think I need to find more of these in my life.

This has been one of the hardest few weeks of my life.  I'm realizing that some very fundamental things have to change; it's one of those bifurcations where you see one path that you know is the "correct" one, but there is so much pulling you in the opposite direction.  I've already been down one of those with my prior roommate situation, another with my RNR, another when I chose to become passive and accept my job as is without striving to improve myself or try for anything better.  That's three times I've chosen the easy way out.  Perhaps the fourth time is the charm in my case, or at least so I can hope.

I remember at one time, when I was less jaded, when I really believed that things could get better if you only worked for them, I saw the positive side of things despite any current dysfunction.  Even when I was paralyzed with illness and anxiety in grad school, I didn't give up.  Some part of me felt that a better paradigm could exist and was worth fighting for, no matter what had gone beforehand, along with the fact that I hadn't really experienced the limitations of my profession and how belittling it can feel to be the best at something and get nothing for it.  Now that I've experienced that, I think it really stymies me in terms of moving forward.

My sister quizzes me every time we get together.  What do you want to do?  Why can't you retrain yourself?  Why don't you try to improve things?  My answer is always that I'm tired.  Not physically tired (which yes, to a degree, but that's not the real problem), but emotionally and mentally exhausted from beating my head against a metaphorical wall for years.  Dealing with my weaknesses for years.  Living with support falling away and resources being taken year after year without fail; part my fault, part others.  The guilt of lost connections and poor decisions.  And as spoken in Magnolia, the regret, the goddamn regret that saps your strength and will, leading you to the easy path since it's the one best known, and the one best understood.

Where do I go from here?  True change is hard, and requires an incredible amount of physical, emotional, and mental investment that I don't know if I have anymore, but I'll never know if I don't try.  From now until mid-November I'm booked solid on the weekends, but hopefully in the trips I'll have time to mentally examine what I want to plan for the next week, month, year, and maybe make a plan that can be feasible.  I guess I'll find out exactly how much drive is left in me.