Crashing into it.

As the planet hurtles towards its demise, I grabbed a book from the library for the first time in ages - and it's a good one, though probably from a mental-health standpoint not the best? Anyway, it is Play Like a Man, by Rose from the Poster Children. I had a brief interaction with her in the late 90's ('97 or so?) when I was briefly seeing the former drummer of Steel Pole Bathtub, who they had toured with in Europe and she had written extensive tour diaries during. Because she was a computer-programming student, she was actually posting her diaries online on a listserv, which back then, was not something normal folks really did (god knows had I been able to focus and was aware enough to do that, shit would be different. But enough with imagining how my EEAAO selves are faring in the alternate universes) and she recently used those diaries as a base for a book about being a woman bass player in a punk rock band in not only the era I played & knew her in, but she's still playing (and teaching a music business course at U of Ill) so pretty cool. So far the book is good - I got about a quarter of the way through last night. It's not as diary-heavy as I had hoped, and it's understandably really grounded in documenting the Champaign-Urbana scene that they were so instrumental (heh, a pun) in. Also, I didn't realize she and Rick (cofounder and husband) were trained musicians - I knew they were both math/computer nerds (the band was one, if not the first to have an interactive online presence, which I remember exploring vividly when I was killing hours at Microsoft at the time) but had no idea she played violin and piano as well as bass. The more you know. Anyway, so far, my favorite passage in the book is this, in reference to the type of kids those of us in the DIY punk rock scene tended to be in my experience as well: "Nowadays, the work is praised, not the talent, because repeated affirmations of intelligence make kids believe that any ability they have was bestowed upon them by luck, and when challenged with something they cannot easily complete, they do not know how to work, nor do they think work will do any good." I love that so much, and feel seen. Literally, I immediately thought of my entire pre-college life, and that's it, in a nutshell. Being declared "gifted" and then left to figure it out ("it" being navigating life as someone who was supposedly smarter or talented in some way) all alone, as my parents apparently felt I didn't need supervision beyond basic safety issues. I have always been unable to put my finger on exactly why I seem unable to apply myself to anything for long if it doesn't come easy, and music - bass playing in particular, was one of those things. Practice didn't seem to make a difference - I never felt like I had the innate talent required for music. Especially as I met more and more people invoived in making music, while I shared all sorts of personality traits - I never felt my brain worked that way. The reality is, had I had a good, consistant teacher, and not a stoner boyfriend maybe it would have worked? Further though - most everything I've been pretty good at, I abandon once I achieve a certain amount of comfort but nothing "happens". I have never been able to make things happen beyond initially starting things. The primary ability I have is a rampant curiosity, and willingness to give things a go - the frustrating part, especially in retrospect, is the lack of follow-through, the "grit" as Rose refers to it, to build on the raw talent or skill. I don't seem very good at motivating, and definitely not at holding myself accountable. Even in cooking, which is probably where I have been most successful in terms of creativity and execution, even then I get bored when things don't just fall into place. It's like I've been programmed that if things don't just evolve in a magical way then it just wasn't supposed to be my "thing". This is a rabbit hole worth exploring, and I'm excited to read more of Rose's take on the world I was a part of and certainly informed who I am today.