“To be a writer is to sit down at one’s desk in the chill portion of every day, and to write; not waiting for the little jet of the blue flame of genius to start from the breastbone – just plain going at it, in pain and delight. To be a writer is to throw away a great deal, not to be satisfied, to type again, and then again, and once more, and over and over…”—
"That Overly-Revealing Post that I Hint to In My ‘About Me’ Section"
Part I (Pre-Seattle)
This is gonna be a long one, so sorry in advance. Kudos if you stick it out till the end.
And if you’re not playing this song over and over while you read it, then you’re not experiencing it the same way I am.
You know, college really fits just about every damn cliche everyone tells you. Its a time for experimentation, change, and finding out who you really are. And that is so fucking lame to be saying that. Angsty-Teen Wes would be kicking me in the balls right now. But it is. I guess it just doesn’t really hit you the way you imagine it would. Four years ago, I didn’t even want to go to college. I’ve hated school almost more than anything ever since I can remember. And its hard to explain why and sound coherent at the same time. Its not that I don’t love learning, I do. Really. Its more that…I hate the structure, the academic language, the busy-work, the students that either have their noses so far up their professors asses or the ones on the opposite end of the spectrum who truly do not give a fuck and are wasting everyone’s time. (End rant).
Imagining four more years of that after high school accompanied by the fear of a neurotic straight-edge teenage boy being placed in the overly-hedonistic boozefest that is college terrified/repulsed me. I hated drinking, drugs, and partying. HATED.
So I went to some shitty commuter school for a year that had absolutely no college culture (or at least none that I experienced). That was kind of a bad move. Kind of. Because it turned out I was lonely as fuck and by the end of the year found out that I had not made a single friend who I could hang out with outside of class at that school. I say kind of because I had some really great teachers and classes that sparked an intellectual curiosity in me that hadn’t really given two shits about anything in a long time.
Learning about the way in which the international political world worked really made it apparent how fucked up shit is sometimes. You can take that in a negative way, but for me it really hammered in the idea that I need to do something to make things better for people. Again cheesy as fuck, but everyone’s calling is cheesy as fuck. And a class in the sociology of human sexuality really got me looking at gender/sex issues in ways that I hadn’t even imagined before. Not to mention, it helped bolster my disgust for social conservatism in that area. I mean, I’d always been liberal, but to see a bunch of learned academics bash social conservatives in their papers over and over again was not only hilarious, but gave me sound reasons to find it hilarious.
But I’ve kind of jumped over a tidbit of important info thus far.
I had been dating this girl since my junior year of high school. And I was ridiculously in love with her. To the point where it was probably bad. She was a year older and had gone to school in Seattle and we tried to do the long distance thing. It was hard. Really hard. I had stayed in San Diego for two reasons: 1) My band was down there (although its not like we were signed or doing anything productive really), 2) That whole me not giving two shits about the college life thing. I mean, would I really want to go to a bro-school with frat-life and all that shit? I had been up to UW a good couple times during our long distance thing and it was not my cup of tea. There were a lot douchebags I met there. Haha. But like I said, things were hard.
And in the midst of all the stress that we put on each other, she hooked up with another guy at a party. And looking back on it, there’s a plethora of mixed emotions. I mean, I was an overly obsessed, possessive boyfriend who was ridiculously upset whenever she tried to get the most out of her college life (straight-edge remember?).
I didn’t handle it very well at all.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I had a nervous breakdown. Being with someone for two years and then having that feeling of betrayal will takes its toll on you. No one should be having panic attacks at nineteen. After a few weeks of talking it out we determined that it was the long distance that was tearing us down. Every time we were together it was perfect, but being 1200 miles away from each other just wasn’t working…and in an act of desperation I decided I would move to Seattle. It was probably the most stupid and best idea I’ve ever come up with.
My parents are ridiculously supportive. They are incredible. I can’t say they were ecstatic, but they know I’m a smart kid and they’ve always trusted my judgment, even if it was bit crazy. I knew people would think I was crazy. I got so many damn questions and/or warnings about whether or not I was chasing a girl to another city. But it was bigger than that. It was about trust, faith, and doing what you feel is right. So I had to fend off those fuckers (and still do to this day whenever anyone asks why I came to Seattle), “Oh, you know its a really good music scene,” or “I lived in San Diego since I was eight and just really needed get out of the town I grew up in. Just a good change of pace, you know?” All of which were true. It just wasn’t why I was doing it. But hell, they were comforting thoughts for me too.
I had applied to UW and Seattle U. I got rejected by UW and acted like I didn’t get to me. I was pretty bummed out though. Especially because college also teaches you that a lot of dumb fucks get into good schools. But getting rejected from UW and being accepted by SU was probably one of the best things that ever happened to me. (Fuck UW).
My band had decided to move up with me because apparently they were crazy as fuck as well. This included my good friend Bowen and a bassist (Dan) who had spent a short few months in San Diego, but lived in Chicago. So I went to visit my girlfriend around April-ish to find a place to live and such and ended up signing a lease and all that jazz. Had a good time up there and started to feel like our rocky relationship was starting to ease its way back into normalcy (which is an overstatement because nearly all of our relationship was a shitshow). Point being, my nerves were a little settled.
And in a month she left me for the guy she had cheated on me with. And here I am with a lease signed in city where I knew absolutely no one and enrolled in a school that I had only really applied to because I wanted to be near a girl who I had spent the last two years talking to every single day.
Why would one bring up such a depressing Debbie-downer story? Because I think it accurately portrays where I was when I really started college.
Nearly every freshman starts out school feeling lonely. They don’t admit it, you just notice it by the subtle things they say, their drastic efforts to get shitfaced, or the attempts to go to any party no matter the distance. The anxiety driven battle to find friends is nothing short of a clusterfuck. But can you blame them? I mean, its like the first day of high-school, EXCEPT YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW ANYBODY, YOU’RE IN A RANDOM CITY YOU’VE SPENT LIKE A WEEK IN AND YOU HAVE NO SUPPORT SYSTEMS AROUND YOU THAT YOU KNOW WELL ENOUGH WHERE YOU CAN VENT YOUR SHIT TO KEEP YOUR SANITY INTACT.
I think people are too hard on freshmen.
Point being: Its a stressful fucking time in every college kid’s life. Now take a minute, and add it to all the aforementioned bullshit that was going on in my life.
I did not start school up here in a good place. In fact, I probably started it in the most shittiest emotional-state I’ve ever been in. The break-up had led to a neurotic, self-doubting, alcohol-driven summer of depression, regret, and a whole shitload of other emotions that I don’t like to talk about. (GOING FROM NOTHING TO DRINKING A TON IS A BIG DEAL FOR A STRAIGHT-EDGE). I can’t thank the friends who helped me through that summer enough. Best friends are the ones who can disapprove, but understand.
So here I was in this brand new city. I spent a lot of nights staying up late by myself, walking around, and writing in my journal.
I’ll finish the rest of this in the next few days. Goodnight.
Its one of those things where I have a hard time finding the right words…
I think we all just vibe off of each other really well…and each one of us knows what we’re doing…which in turn makes us vibe even more well, etc.
The point being that it makes for a concoction that turns me into a giddy little schoolgirl about playing music again.
I think we have something really good going; something that could go really far if we work at it. And its so fucking tight to see that start up from the ground. I’m really looking forward to what the future holds for us. Although, we need a band name haha.
But if any of ya’ll want to stay updated on whatever we’re doing, just head over to:
There’s not much there yet, but there will be soon. We’re working on it. And let me tell you, it’s gonna be fucking great.
Soon to come: That lengthy cheese-filled post about my time in college and graduation. I just haven’t had time to write it since graduation, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.
“When and if fascism comes to America it will not be labeled ‘made in Germany’; it will not be marked with a swastika; it will not even be called fascism; it will be called, of course, ‘Americanism’”—Halford E. Luccock of the Divinity School of Yale University (1938)