Jumping to conclusions

Last post predicted that TFA would never play again, and while it's true that the band will be on hiatus after our October 28th gig, saying that we wouldn't even play today's gig was premature and the product of high emotions and my constant fault of taking things personally.

At the church in Palatine, we played for a small group of people. Maybe "group" is too grandiose a turn; at one point, there were exactly ZERO people watching us. We were in a big room with no one in there, and someone shut the doors on us. The next person to come in started vacuuming the floor while we performed. More people arrived near the end, and perhaps 20 folk were there for our finale, but I've never played in front of nobody before.

Kind of funny, ain't it? I've spent so much physical and emotional energy with this band, and for that moment, it had no impact on anyone in the world. We're obviously not the type of band whose break-up will devastate our loyal flock of supporters. They don't exist.

We sounded quite good today. Again, we were asked to keep it down several times, and it was an exercise in seeing how quiet I could play the drums. (It's not hard for me, thanks to two years' worth of playing in the high school show choir, where I was constantly warned to keep it down.)

TFA has one more gig left, where we will certainly play for at least one person at all times. Then we're done as TFA, but maybe the four of us (and not her) will get together occasionally to jam and enjoy ourselves.

Back to something, though: here I was, thinking that the whole band was getting mad at me, trying to replace me or let me go immediately. I was developing fictitious scenes where they're bad-mouthing me and conspiring against me.  And of course that wasn't happening, but why do I keep torturing myself in that way? Why am I so damn sensitive? It's almost as if I'm trying to torment myself as a way of toughening up myself, a rough love sorta thing, but all it does is make me sad and paranoid.

I'm rarely comfortable with myself, happy in my own skin. I balance feelings of worthlessness with delusions of grandeur. But I'm really an okay guy. I'm not a star or a once-in-a-generation genius. I'm a pretty smart guy that sees the world in a pretty interesting way. I'm too eager at times, but I mean well. I don't often "play well with others," but it's not for lack of effort or desire. I'm somewhat distinctive, and maybe most people don't know how to handle me.

I'm trying to learn how to handle myself. I need to show myself the same compassion and forgiveness that I show others. If something's keeping me from doing just that, that thing needs to be shut down and disassembled. Buried. Rest in Peace.