Blog # 83: On the Porch
I am sitting on the porch of my parents house in the suburbs of Philadelphia, though it could be the suburbs of any town. I am dwarfed by trees on all sides. The sun set hours ago, and it is raining. The storm has knocked out the power to the neighborhood. I've found a seat alone on a bench on the front porch. The light from my laptop screen is the only light I can see from where i'm at, with the exception of the very dim sky backlite against the trees. I hear only rain spattering on leaves and a few angry crickets. The mosquitos seem to want to make friends with my computer screen. In the morning I'm sure I will have inchy bumps on my ankles and feet. I don't care.
I can't help but think about all the events and circumstances that have brought me here. All of them meaningful and pointless. I have been staying at my parents house for this entire month of July, working a camp job I've done for years. It is the only steady job I've worked consistantly and it feels like I'm doing something good in giving the kids a fun 5 weeks. Giving them someone who will listen to them. I like to think I can make their lives just a little better, but that's probably not true. My boss is now my friend and my desire to help him with the camp is an equal motivation, though this year will most likely be my last. In a few years the kids will forget me and the small lessons I've tried to teach them. It is okay; that's what happens. None of it matters and that's okay. Though, when I look back and think about when I was 6 years old at this same camp, it mattered to me. People treating each other well feels like the only thing that is important now.
Upstairs in the darkened power-less house sit 6 boxes of my new CD. Months of work. Time. Money that will never be made back. Few people will ever hear this recording, but I think it is good. I value this music and that is enough. It doesn't matter at all, and it feels like the most important thing I've ever done. It is weird to care and believe in something that no one else feels the same about. It makes you alone, different and separate in the universe.
In two weeks I will be back in New York City. I'll start working on making the new CD available on itunes, amazon, CD baby etc. It is called 'At the Edge' and I am very proud of it. I will be booking shows and back to my New York life. Trying to get anyone who will listen to hear this new music. There will be a moment when I'm sitting alone in my apartment on another rainy night, thinking back to this night on the porch. How I got here. Questioning the meaning of everything. The people that I've lost touch with. How many choices and decisions lead to this version of my life and all the other different versions that could have been. Lives I could have had. This is the one I have though. It is mine, it is as good as the next. No better or worse.