The Road to my Music

Night before last we ended up hanging out with some friends of Jason’s. Which I will say I think everyone enjoyed the time to just kick back and relax, we had fun. Anyhow they started asking Carley if she could sing and so she sang for them, then they started asking me if I could sing. With a little pressuring I finally caved and went and got my guitar because if I was going to sing I wasn’t going to do it without my guitar. Personally I think I sound bad with my guitar so it would sound worse without the guitar at least I can use the guitar to cover it up a little.

Anyway, I was told I had a very original voice and that my style was unlike any they have ever heard and I beat out Taylor Swift and Miranda Lambert and then got told that I had to come play for a chili cookout that he was going to do. As flattering as it was, my reserved overly humbled side argues that I’m still not very good. But, because everyone else seems to think I’m amazing I don’t mind playing for people every once in a while.

However with these two throwing all their compliments around to me and my friend the one compliment that stopped me dead was when Mr. Doug had looked at me and told me that I didn’t know how lucky I was and that if he was my dad he’d be proud of me, and that he was proud of me.

Stuff like that always throws me for a loop, I mean I’m sitting here in front of these two guys who are astonished by my talent and they want me to keep singing and keep playing. It just floored me, to be honest at one point it was all I could do to hold back my tears because they were pointing this stuff out and I wanted to run over and tackle him in a hug.

But you see, I grew up with a “dad” who when I started playing music he’d turn the tv up so he couldn’t hear me, heck, I could barely hear myself, and if that didn’t work he’d start pitching a fit till I stopped. The only time I could play was when he wasn’t home. Part of why I transitioned to the guitar, because I could never play piano because it was to loud and right there in the living room. So I slowly began to dislike the piano and almost came to a point where I was ready to pitch guitar too because I could never play it. 

After Saturday night I have to wonder how it is that I got stuck growing up with such a jerk, why is it that if there are these people out there that know how to be an adult and know how to take care of someone why is it there are SO many of them that are still just little baby boys that should still be living with their mommys? Why did I have to get stuck with that as my “dad.” Why couldn’t I have grown up with a dad who would encourage me, who would sit and listen to my piano, or guitar, or my singing, or would call for me to ask me to sit and play for them while they did whatever. I can’t even begin to describe what I would have given to have some encouragement from a dad as far as my music goes.

But see here’s the catch I guess, if Matt hadn’t driven me away from my piano, I probably wouldn’t have a guitar, nor would I have started singing where people could here me. For a while, my songs on the piano where very fast loud songs that fluctuated from slow to fast to loud to soft and because of that my piano skills excelled. But those songs allowed me a way to release my frustrations because I could beat the snot out of my keys to make my song louder and I could go really fast to remove the pent up energy from being frustrated. Then after I started on the guitar my songs were slower and the words were encouraging, something to give me hope, keep me looking ahead. So to a degree I wouldn’t be the well rounded person I am if it wasn’t for Matt. I can play piano when I’m in the mood for it, I can play the heck out of my guitar and according to most everyone except for myself I’ve got a killer voice. But over all, I guess what I’m getting at is there’s a reason I grew up with a jerk and I think, I’m succumbing to the idea of actually being thankful for it. Yes, it hurts, yes, some times I wish I didn’t have the memories I have, and yes, some times I wish I could do it all over again with a better dad. Yes, it has its pitfalls and it sucks, but overall I’m actually thankful for the opportunity to strengthen myself in some areas, prove myself in others, and just learn to be the caring, hardworking, humble person I am today. 

God Bless,

Jessica

 

“I”

All right, here’s my question. How do you say I love you? Do you say “I love you?” or “Love you?” or do you use both? Now, why do you say it they way you do? I have noticed a lot of people will say, love you, over I love you. Are we really that lackadaisical that we can’t put a simple “I” before love you or does it go deeper? Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing wrong with someone just saying love you, I don’t have a problem with it at all. I just think there’s some things that would benefit us to give a little more attention to detail. Anyway what I’m getting at is this. Why don’t we say “I” love you? Me, it’s because that I is my safety net, however wrong I may be, it’s a security thing that makes me feel like I’m protecting myself. I know that if the people I love were to leave it wouldn’t change how I felt toward them. But, if “I” admit to loving them it removes my safety net and actually puts me in a more vulnerable position, which would be why the first time I told my I told my adopted dad that I loved him it took so much out of me I felt weak and knew I was extremely venerable at that moment. However it didn’t change the fact that I have a hard time admitting to myself that I love him therefore typically telling him “love you.”

However, I think my mom is the only one that I am 100% comfortable telling her that “I” love her. Not that I always phrase it that way but I definitely feel much more comfortable telling her that I love her over love you.

Then there’s this idea, for those who are looking for their boyfriends or girlfriends. Pay attention to how they treat you or how you truly feel about them, because you/they may be dropping the “I” because you/they really don’t love the way they should. That would be how my biological dad was with my momma, he’d walk in the room and quickly say “love you.” He never did mean it and I don’t think I ever recall him telling her “I love you” and that would be why, because he didn’t love her.

Now that I have all this out. Don’t over analyze how someone says they love you. If it’s a safety net, they’ll come around eventually, give them some time and someone to trust, they’ll get there. If you find out you don’t love them, leave.. If you find out they don’t love you, leave. You deserve to have someone to love and have someone love you. And like I said earlier, there is nothing wrong with someone saying “love you.” However, if it is a security or a lack of love it is something that should be addressed.

Just some food for thought,

Jessica