**Post from February 27th, tried posting from phone, noticed it didn’t take.**
Good day Dear Readers,
Some slight issues with my posting.
For the majority of my computer needs I use a Microsoft Surface Pro 2 Tablet, refurbished, that I bought off of Amazon about a year and a half ago. Its wi-fi adapter decided to die on me a couple of weeks ago. In that same time, I’ve been working to get a job with E*TRADE, so fixing my tablet hasn’t been a top priority.
I have a computer at home hooked up to a t.v. in the front room of my apartment. That’s the same room that’s shared with three other roommates. I find it hard to write in front of other people, especially when they can see every thought coming from my head through my fingers to the screen.
I was prompted to return to my writings by a blast to the face of an old project I had. Since this is the blog of projects, my journal of hobbies, I was forcefully reintroduced to one last night in one of the best ways possible.
Pure, unadulterated, amateur rock.
If you’ve looked at my other pages, you may have seen that managing and promoting a band is on my list of half-baked credentials. That band is/was Griffin. The band of one of my best friends, Taylor, and his brother, Riley James. They had a performance last night at a small venue in Salt Lake City and I gotta say, I regret not spending more time around their music. They have seriously grown since the last time I listened to them. Freaking amazing. I regret not helping them more like I said I would.
The dudes are awesome. They say they’ve modeled their music after such figures as Nirvana, The Foo Fighters, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and others in those sounds, while putting Griffin’s own spin on things. They both write for lyrics and music, they both brainstorm hardcore on their music, and their love for what they can only do as a hobby is evident. If there’s one thing I’ve wanted to help Taylor and Riley with, it’s get into better jobs. Help them find work they can sit in to support their music without sacrificing too much of their free time to do it. Especially a well-paying job. Where time equals money, the more time and money both they pour into their music, the more money they need for the time they spend elsewhere. The logistics of running a band.
That brings a good point to mind, though. I never actually laid out a game plan, a strategy, a direction or mission statement for what I would do for them…
A little backstory.
May 12 2016. The band has a performance in Ogden, UT at the Infinite Possibilities Expo. As a good friend, I was helping them transport all their gear up there with my dad’s truck. Drum set, guitars, amps, and all the microphones and stands and what-have-you. We get them set up, they play a good set of their own rock in the midst of more… mystical… acts. We get them disassembled and put into my truck again. After their set, they get to talking about wanting to reach more people, get into more serious venues, etcetera. I’m listening in, offering the occasional input, eventually saying that they need a manager-slash-promoter. Funny thing is, none of them are particularly outgoing in their own opinion. Taylor and Riley can be perfectly pleasant, but neither one of them really care to deal with people. Spencer, on the other hand, was much more lively.
Spencer is their uncle. Was. He passed away later that year, in the winter of 2016. I didn’t know him well. Not half as well as I wanted to. But what I do know of him is that he always had a smile when I saw him. He was an incredibly gifted artist, the kind of talent that the world only sees once in a blue moon. He had hand drawn the logo for the band, for instance. He was the assistant to his father, Dee Jay Bawden, a world-renowned sculptor. Most notably, their works have been for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Spencer and Dee Jay were truly characters larger than life, at least to me. As an equal third of the band, it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t mention him. He was Taylor and Riley’s best friend, more of another brother than an uncle, the age gap was only a few years. He was inspirational to me too, in the short time I knew him.
As great as Spencer was, though, he also couldn’t run a PR campaign for the band. He was always busy sculpting with his father. When he wasn’t working, he was enjoying his own social life. If not doing his own thing, he was hanging out with Taylor and Riley doing music or just whatever they thought to be doing. Another major obstacle would be that there was probably a good 30 miles of distance between Taylor and Riley up in Salt Lake Valley and Spencer down in Utah Valley. Sessions weren’t always as consistent as everyone would like, for a myriad of reasons.
So on a sunny Saturday in Spring, behind an amphitheater in Ogden, Utah, the idea was proposed if I would be interested in helping put the band out there. I don’t remember if I offered or if they asked, I’m pretty sure it was a bit of deliberation on both sides. But, after some talk and a lunch at a Golden Corral in Ogden, I was the new “manager”. I never really felt like the title was proper because I wasn’t about to set times and dates for the band to run their lives or schedule their days to practice and do what they already know how to do. Maybe I should have, maybe I should have kept tabs on the three of them, held their feet to the fire and a day-planner. I don’t know. Two days later, the 14th of May, I post a post on their band’s Griffin Facebook Page about being the new manager and wanting to help them grow and some such nonsense. I start hunting for venues for them to play at, write a few emails, read up on the development of a band. Somewhere along the way, the efforts ceased.
That’s how I added yet another interest to my list of pick-ups and let-downs.
Life goes on. Times like these that I would remind myself that I can’t change what’s been done, only promise to make what reparations are necessary and not to make the same mistakes again.
This cycle repeats itself more than I would like and every time it does, I get harder and harder and more critical of myself. I get to thinking that I don’t deserve the wonderful things in my life, the wonderful people, that only came about through half-assed attention paid sporadically throughout my life rather than hard and consistent work towards a goal. My father would strongly disagree with me, saying that I’ve worked hard for things in my life. I would strongly disagree with my father and say that I feel like I’ve stumbled into the majority of my own successes with no real effort to show for it.
And mind you, this isn’t for some self-indulging pity-party. I’m not fishing for compliments here, nor am I about to take any flak for this behavior either. It’s my own behavioral problem to solve, thank-you-very-much. No, for thoughts like this, the reason I write them out is to give a more honest account. This is, after all, supposed to be a journal of sorts. Something that’s been holding me back from sharing these thoughts is that I don’t know how much I want to share. As a result, it’s been just another justification to not write at all. If it’s to be a true journal, I would share my thoughts on such inflammatory topics as politics and work and religion and education. Perhaps I will, in the future. Still debating that one with myself. For now, I’ll stick to recaps and how they relate to said pursuits, I suppose.
Thank you for your time and consideration, dear readers.