Regrets, I Have a Few, but Then Again, Too Few to Mention
Sinatra, the great interpreter of songs, really illustrated the power of the human voice through Paul Anka’s words. In the early performances (the song was first released in 1968), this is a boast. In later years, it is a lament.
Last night, at 43 years old, I was tossed from my first game. Well, not sure they tossed me, I just left and refused to go to the penalty box. I just lost my cool. It wasn’t one thing, it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. I apologized to my team, and like the wonderful people they are, they were incredibly supportive. There’s so much more that went into this one moment of lapsed judgment than playing against a bunch of douche bags in a hockey game. I mean, it is D-2 level beer league, and they have a coach. Not to mention the 18-year-old competitive kid taunting me the whole time, still playing in his AA competitive breezer covers. Serious douche bags.
But, I digress.
One of the things that happened was falling awkwardly on my shoulder - it’s painful to type or play guitar. This is causing me to consider hanging up my skates, at least competitively. Renee, one of my teammates, wrote a very kind and thoughtful plea to not give up, that life is short and not to do anything I’ll regret. That it’s not about regretting what I do, but about regretting what I didn’t do.
This struck me deeply because in all the ways that don’t matter, I’ve done all that I’ve wanted to do, but in the ways that truly matter, I’ve shrunk in the face of fear. Growing up a working-class kid in southern Indiana, I wanted to surf and play hockey. Maybe I wanted to do those things just because I couldn’t. But, we couldn’t afford hockey and I lived in Indiana. And, that was that.
At 21, I moved to Los Angeles, bought a used surf board and taught myself to surf. I never got good, but I could catch a wave, stand up and ride it until my fins hit the sand. I did it for a while, I didn’t immediately give up, but after I left California for 9 years, I wasn’t as interested anymore. I did buy a board when I returned, but I only went a few times. I had checked that off my bucket list already.
At 39, my daughter started playing hockey, I got roped into coaching even though I could barely skate. I build an ice rink in my back yard every winter. I started playing at the lowest level of rec hockey. I’m not good, but I typically play a good game as a third line grinder. This was as high as my aspirations ever got. I wish it was more fun than it is, but I have had some fun and I do love the game as a whole.
But, my true passion in life, music… I’ve given up every time. I’ve watched my friends get record deals, have songs put in movies, tour with their heroes, win Emmys, and, in one way or another, make a career out of art. Every time I’ve gotten close, I’ve folded and left the table. When I was offered low-level gigs as a guitar player to go on tour, I turned it down, not because I thought I was too good for it, but because I didn’t want to grind it out only to fail later. See, I never had an issue with doing the grunt work, I had an issue with doing the grunt work only to know I would fail. I thought there were better ways to spend my time.
I was wrong. Corporate America sucks and I hate every second of it. Corporate America is nothing but round holes and I’m a square peg.
Now, here I am, a recording studio in my house, I started a record label, I’m walking full steam ahead, head up high, pushing all my chips to the center of the table.
And, I’m scared shitless. I want to quit every single day, but I talk myself out of it.
I’m a relatively intelligent, overly educated, dude but I don’t know what to do other than to move forward and make the best decision I can with the options and resources that are in front of me. Artistically, this is easy, I keep learning theory, I keep working on my craft and I keep putting my bone marrow into my music. But the business part of it? The getting the music to be heard by people? In spite of my MBA, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing at all.
All I know is I’m tired of having regrets. I don’t begrudge my friends of their success, I couldn’t be prouder of them. I have no one but me to blame for not being in a similar position as they are. Their success has nothing to do with my failures.
Most days, I’m just tired, but you just keep going.