"I fought the law and the law won"

What an iconic phrase. A classic tale all in one sentence. Not to mention a great hook to an even greater song. I fought the Law is most known from its cover performed by the Bobby Fuller Four. If its name doesn't ring a bell, listening to the song surely will. It's one of those tunes from the sixties your sure you've never heard of until you play it and realize you've listened to it at least a dozen times on a radio station you never had the choice of tuning to. Even the most introverted zoomer has heard this song at some supermarket. Nobody can forget this jam no matter how buried in their memory it is. As much as music snobs such as myself can resent pop music for its often vapid simplicity, simple songs that transcend their time have a special charm to them. I Fought the Law is one of those songs. Its most famous line elicits many layers, from a statement of defeat to a humorous one liner of a story that explains itself all too well. Typical lyrics about breaking rocks, "robbin with a six gun", and missing their girl tie in with the central mantra of the song. They further express a feeling loss in the context of imprisonment. It's a catchy song about man down on his luck, a tune most would dance to despite its subject matter. I Fought the Law may also be a partial foreshadowing of Bobby Fullers life, or rather his mysterious death which many theorize was a hit by the mob. Regardless of the song's interpretations, it's a timeless tune that everybody has heard somewhere.

Pride is a relatively new friend of mine, I must admit, one I am still getting to know.

Over the years, I've met and become familiar with many emotions.

Sadness and numbness have been here a very, very long time.

Euphoria comes and goes like a popular roommate who spends most of their time out with others rather than sticking around to hang with me.

Perhaps they aren't a fan of my other friends.

Anyway... Pride is new, yet old to me and I'll explain why.

Pride was someone I had seen in the past, many times.

I do remember my desperation when I was younger to see him in my parents' eyes.

All I ever wanted was even the slightest glimpse of her.

It felt like love, to me, I think was the problem.

Because confusing Pride with Love had me running to find it wherever I could.

Places I'm not proud of but places I thought I needed.

In the process, I still am not quite sure what Love looks like, now, not quite yet.

Emotions in general are quite a blur.

Eventually, I learnt that desperate struggle to find Pride hiding behind my parents' eyes or the eyes of men was... Utterly useless.

It wasn't enough, not anymore.

Not when I didn't know them in truth, not when I had never felt pride by and in myself.

I learnt to separate Pride and Love, one from the other.

And I found that she was a part of me, just buried quite deep and hard to bring out of her shell, like most of my other emotions.

I've learnt that they like to come out when I'm writing something new, not when I've gotten a good grade my parents enjoy.

That is their pride and certainly not mine, not anymore.

Seeing him from anyone else's eyes just doesn't feel as real.

It reminds me of a time when I was searching for her, not knowing she was within all along.

One of my favourite memories together was when he popped up for quite a bit as I decided that I was going to love my body instead of fighting it for not being "perfect enough", all those years ago.

It brings a smile to my face every time I remember how long they stayed with me, held my hand, told me with full certainty that everything would be okay.

Pride might not be Love, not by a long shot but she is eager to help me find it and I'm grateful to them for that.

He and I don't see each other often.

But each time we do, I welcome them in like an old friend.

I'm glad to know them at all and I can't wait for its next visit.

// explicit //

i faked my first, and second, and all my orgasms with my high school boyfriend.

i remember making the conscious decision, on a winter night in my mother's empty apartment, that i was going to fake it. i had never orgasmed in my life, but i'd read enough e fantasy books and watched half-performative twitter clips that i thought i could.

the irony is a few weeks later, as i discussed it with my best friend in a deserted mall cafeteria, is i found out i may have actually finished. i didn't know what an orgasm felt like. she, in all her wisdom, explained it didn't feel like all it was chalked up to be. i knew that, obviously, but i didn't know what to expect.

anyways. the day after i faked an orgasm with my boyfriend, i faked another. he was proud. thought he took care of me.

i wanted to cry. i had never lied to him before. i fell asleep on his chest, and he held me, even though i hadn't taken care of him.

when i went home, i didn't know how to feel. the internet said i should tell him. that i should self-experiment to see what i like. but i had just gotten on anti-depressants and had barely any sex drive. question forums and blog posts were no help. if you tell him, it'll break your trust. if you don't, you're living with a lie. it's ok, some people said, just don't do it again. i fell down holes of the glamorization of porn and how it gave people unrealistic expectations. how there's an orgasm gap. how men are typically entitled in the bedroom. how it's so fucking common for women to fake their orgasms, because there's such a heavy societal strain on "finishing".

i cried on my mother's bed that day. she wanted to know what was wrong. i didn't tell her.

i told my boyfriend i might've had pcd. or something like that. because it didn't feel like a regular depression episode. the headspace was different. i didn't know if it was the guilt of faking it. i wasn't raised catholic. i didn't care marriage was seen as a precursor to sex. i didn't care we didn't have sex and only did stuff a hop skip jump away from it.

was i crying to mourn my childhood? maybe. i don't think so. growing up isn't tied to innocence. when you're a girl, the world sexualizes you before you even know what that means.

i internally decided i wouldn't tell my boyfriend i faked. i would just never do it again.

until valentine's day rolled around. it was supposed to be special, right? until he admitted he felt insecure in bed when i didn't come. until my anti-depressant dose made it near impossible to feel anything, including sexual attraction. until he wouldn't stop unless i "reached the goal", within safeword proximity.

so yeah. i never lied to him about anything else. not about his ugly graphic tees, or his lacklustre texting style, or how he was obsessed with his girl best friend. but in bed, every time.

Caving.

Typing...

Thinking...

Sighing.

Trying.

Typing...

Typing...

Typing...

Stopping.

Tapping.

Sniffling

Biting.

Typing...

Closing.

Opening.

Debating.

Thinking...

Smiling,

blushing

hiding...

Groaning.

Typing.

Sending.

Waiting.

Regretting.

Deleting.

Swearing.

Berating.

Retyping,

Ignoring.

Resending.

Waiting.

If we talk about reality we should always have a backup.

I will share a true story about my cousin

My cousin was very good at sports he loved to play football he was a Pro in his highschool days that's why he decided to give it all to his passion playing football he only focused on studies and he worked really really hard but the truth is he failed to achieve his dream now his only regret only if he had studied well alongside he would have been at better position having a job somewhere but he is jobless sometimes he teaches football to the young kids ,play at the local football tournament but we can't say that it is a success.

If you have talent it's not gonna be gone wasted it will always be useful somehow somewhere but you should always keep in mind being you should always be practical and studies don't get wasted and talent also doesn't but the thing is you may not become very famous and earn less money or you may become world famous and you will become rich you will be happy if you achieve your dream but always consider just in case.

That is the question...

There's a great interview with Anderson Paak on YouTube where he talks about his journey and commitment to being a drummer. Long story short, there was a point where he committed to treating it like a job and that ultimately helped lead him to success.

That being said, there is large variance in what people define as success. August 16th, 1962, drummer Pete Best was fired from the Beattles. You can read more about the story but towards the end of his life he realized that the Beattles "became a public commodity."

All this to say, make the best of the cards that you're dealt.

Your friend has, in drumming, what very few people have with things, time.

There is a fondness and a love that grows with that time, and it will always be there to love and support you back.

But there are other things to love, I encourage your friend to find them.

Walk hand in hand with the people, places, and things you fancy, for with them, you are never truly alone.

Sometimes procrastination with something else can lead to other doors we didnt even know exist until we tried something else out. Also learning multiple things at once can be a challenge but it can also be a broadening experience too. Maybe while the drummer learns something else still teach drumming to someone who might be just as passionate as the drummer is. Hope this advice is solid and can help. Your friend will find their way with or without the advice :) Your also a great friend for asking for advice for this drummer friend. Your cool too.

There’s this headline from The Onion that I love because it is un-comedy: “Find what you love: do it on nights and weekends.” People need to do what they love; that is not to say that everyone will make a living with what they love. Do what you have to in order to pay your bills, but don’t let that stop you from sharing your talent with the world. Should people full-time, full-throttle pursue their passions? In particular, should your friend fully focus on the drums and pass on other studies?

Well, I don’t know.

I have some questions.

First of all, if you’ll pardon my being blunt, how good is he? There’s “my friends are very impressed,” and then there’s “my band teacher says I’m good,” but let’s face it: if you’re talking about pursuing a career in music performance, neither of those will necessarily cut it. “I worked up to section leader my senior year” is different from “I made all-state band for three years running.” What level of skill has he obtained?

Second, what does he want out of life? It’s entirely possible that literally the only thing he wants is to drum. That makes it easy. But when contemplating a career in a field that’s a tough nut to crack, requiring skill and effort and luck, it’s important to be honest with oneself. How important is it to your friend to have a nice new car? Own a home? Have kids in the next ten years? None of those make a career as a drummer impossible, of course; getting stuck in either-or thinking is logical failing. But work in a creative field is not necessarily the easiest path to creature comforts or stability, and I don’t use those terms mockingly: there are several reasons I became a teacher rather than pursuing creative writing my whole life, and I’d be lying if I said a stable job with good insurance wasn’t one of them. I have no regrets. Before anything else, I wanted a home with a family I could support, and I have those things. Sharing a studio apartment with a roommate and hoping I could sell a story to make rent? I wasn’t interested.

Maybe your friend is. Maybe splitting an apartment with roommates/bandmates through his 20s, maybe spending a lot of time on the road, sounds fantastic: there’s a romance to that life. Maybe if he gets to play gigs a couple nights a week he’s totally cool with waiting tables, because those gigs make life worth living. Lady Gaga has a tattoo of a Rilke quote that translates to, “Confess to yourself in the deepest hour of the night whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.” Is that how your friend feels about playing the drums?

Playing the drums would not be forbidden, of course: not if he majored in something else, not if he got a 9-5 office job, not if he waits tables… he can always play the drums, and regardless of his life path, I hope he does. What if he pursued music education, and teaching the drums to kids was part of his life? What if drumming is a side gig? On the other side of things, will he always wonder if he could have “made it” if he hadn’t gotten bogged down with X, Y, and Z?

One of my favorite essays I’ve ever read is called “Into the Darkness” by David Rowell, which The Washington Post published in 2009: the author spends a week with a grindcore band called Pig Destroyer before they play Maryland Death Fest. It’s a wonderful read about what metal means to people, and what Pig Destroyer means to the people who play in it. I’ll throw in a few excerpts…

They are also quite successful, considering the band's part-time status. Pig Destroyer has sold nearly 100,000 albums, and it earns about $20,000 each year from merchandising, album sales and live appearances, which, when the band isn't playing a festival, are generally in front of crowds of 300 to 800. Though the band has, over its 12 years together, performed in such far-flung countries as Japan, Australia, Germany, Belgium, Mexico and the United Kingdom, it plays only a handful of shows a year because its members are fiercely protective of their lives outside the band. Hull, for example, is the devoted father of two small boys and a frequent volunteer at his older son's school. He had been working on his PhD in physics at Boston College before eventually abandoning it. Now he works for the Department of Defense, though that's all he can tell me for security reasons…

While in Boston, he joined a metal band with a name that can't be printed here, and recorded a CD with them, but he stayed for only a couple of months. "I couldn't take off and do all the touring that they wanted to do," he said. But that wasn't the only problem. He began to realize: "'Hmmm, I'm the only one with a credit card. I'm the only one with the ability to rent a car. I'm the only one with any sort of education.' A lot of things were starting to come into focus. And I thought, 'I'm not sure I want to follow this path...This is fun, but I'm eventually going to want to have a family. I eventually want to be comfortable. I want to have a future.' "

He got tired of life as a teaching assistant making $12,000 a year, he said, relocated to Washington and started up his career. He was working at Lockheed Martin in the IT department, which, he said, put to use his skills as an analytical thinker, when Pig Destroyer started up in 1997. From the beginning, Hull saw the band as something on the side to a fuller life. His main interest was writing and recording, rather than performing on the road…

Hull enjoys the careful balance he has set for himself. "I like being in my own house, and I like having my family around. On the road it's like: 'Where are we going to find ourselves tonight? Oh, no hotel? Okay, we'll just get back on the road. Who's going to drive?' It's just an endless array of problems you have to solve."

When Pig Destroyer does play a show, the preference is for weekends, which lets Hull save as much vacation time as he can for his family.

"Ultimately, this is not a career," Hull said of Pig Destroyer. "Bands typically fall apart after a while. And then your ability to want to continue to do this sort of wanes, and then all of a sudden you're stuck in a position where you've professionally chosen to do this for your livelihood, and all of a sudden you have to do this, and it's a job. That's why we choose to keep a lot of the pressure off. That's why we don't tour so much. All of that just tears people apart."

I don’t know your friend the drummer any more than I know the guys in Pig Destroyer. I don’t know what sort of drumming he wants to do, or what other interests he has, or anything. I don’t know what his life goals are, or if he even knows for sure what they are yet. What I am certain of, is that figuring out one’s life goals, and finding one’s way toward those things that truly matter – whatever they are – is an essential condition for happiness. There’s an opportunity cost for everything. Go in with your eyes open. Talk to people in your prospective field. Think: what life do I want, and what am I willing to sacrifice for it? Figure out what is most essential for your happiness, pursue it, and remember there is more than one way to skin a cat. Or destroy a pig. Whatever.