Baffled and beaten

Something happened lately. Something that dramatically confused every fibre of my brain and put me in a state of utter shock, embarrassment, happiness and lust. All these feelings together. Thats a lot of intensity to deal with. This post has no direction. No reason. Just a blank page in front of me and the eagerness to write. Process my thoughts into words on a computer screen and hope that those words and sentences build into an understandable idea or concept. If that makes any sense at all.

A few days ago I received a message on my phone. This was completely unexpected and seemed to flip my world upside down. I don’t want to get into the details, but somebody crawled out the woodwork after many years and reached out to me. I don’t mean this in a literal sense, I just like the poetics and imagery of somebody genuinely crawling out of some wood…

For years I disliked them, possibly. More of a frustration, in fact. Perhaps neither and I’d just convinced myself to get on with me life or not think about them at all (this idea of blanking something out of my mind and not taking the time to respectfully comprehend it and move on could explain a lot about the feelings and emotions that seemed to rush back). Besides all this going on within my brain, my phone flew out of my hand and across the room. Why? Thats the tough question. Thinking back at this outburst of athletic strength, similar to the sports in the Olympics, it was for many reasons. Mostly because I’ve been in a strange headspace these last few months as it is, why now? All the months and years that have passed, what are the chances of you wanting to talk to me now? I was in a similar situation a few weeks ago with an old friend, but this one was different. This one is special. This was the only time I can remember, ever in my life, that I didn’t actually know how I felt. Just baffled. Still am baffled.

I used to be a coward, I used to run away from problems and feelings because I had too much pride to tell somebody how I felt or whatever my issues were. Thinking hard into all the events of the past and the present, I believe this pride and ego has led to regrets I’ve got from wishing I had said certain things to people, rather than nothing at all.

I wasn’t going to be a coward this time, I went to see them. Confronted them about why they messaged me? Why they were a massive fucktard? Why they pissed me around several times for no reason? Yet the moment I looked in their eyes, it was like none of it ever mattered. Being there in that moment, with those feelings inside my gut that I didn’t know I had. Seeing what I saw in their eyes, the way they looked at me. Knowing that it was a terrible idea, knowing it would confuse me even more. Knowing they felt as confused as I did/do. I know it will end badly in some way or another for one of us, at least. However, for some reason, I don’t care. My whole life has consisted around me being a thinker, constantly thought too much, especially of the consequences. This time I don’t feel like there will be consequences. This time is just going to be chilled out, building trust and possibly something amazing.

Lately, I’ve started trying to believe in ‘living-in-the-moment’ and ‘everything happens for a reason’ theories. They’re interesting to take part in. I’ve read books, essays and listened to podcasts on the idea of the concept. I’m going to follow these ideas for a few months. This could change my life for better or worse, but the effects of how this will change me is interesting, so why not? I’ve spent 22 years holding back. I want to shoot towards the stars, not sit back and hope they fall in my hands. As cliche as that sounds, it seems to be how I feel. This is similar to how I feel with my music, why am I written songs and waiting for something to come of them? Why can’t I just get out there with a “fuck it” attitude and just go for it? Maybe because i’ve got too much pride…still….

I’d like to apologies for ranting slightly and using naughty boy language. Yet, “swear” words are only bad because people individually attach a bad meaning to them. Don’t hate me for using an open and unrestricted language.

Onwards and upwards fellow humans…

Thank you, I guess.

Hello world, internet, people, strangers. I have realised that its been quite a long time since I last wrote a post for this creative and opinionated outburst site I write on. Several weeks ago, weeks that feel like months, I wrote many blog posts to upload regularly over time. Unfortunately, I ran out of “pre-writen” ramblings, meaning I was back to silence. Thinking about it from my present perspective, the lack of articles has subconsciously meant that I haven’t had anything to complain about, or think about. Maybe even, my soul has left my physical being and stolen my brain and ability to type along with it on its journey out into the universe. How exciting that would be. Right?

Moving swiftly on to why I have decided to sit down in front of my computer at 11pm on a Thursday evening. On Saturday, 13th June 2015, I saw Damien Rice live in Chelsea. A master songwriter with an unbelievable level of talent. Thats how my opinion would describe him.

Cutting a long story short, i’ve waited around 8 years to see him live, let alone for a third album which did eventually happen. Words cannot explain how this performance effected me. How does one man, performing solo with an acoustic guitar grab the focus of thousands. Utter silence and appreciation during songs. How? Why can’t I? Is he a wizard? So many questions. Damien Rice is personally responsible for my own addiction of becoming a songwriter. I stubbled innocently across his slow and ‘delicate’ music years ago (fans of him would get that pun there <<). It stuck with me, inspired me, and guided me.

The following day a friend asked me if I’d ever met him, or wanted to meet him. This brought a lot of thoughts to my attention. Firstly being no, I believe his music has inspired me and given me a pathway to follow and a kind of platform that allows me to express my own feelings and emotions through music. I’d be completely lost getting stuff off my chest if I didn’t write music. It’s bizarre how things could have turned out so different if it wasn’t for this man. I also meant no so that a preconception or illusion of what he is like as an individual person stays intact. My second thought was a yes, I would love to. Not for reasons that most people with presume. I wouldn’t jump on him. Fan boy him and get star struck. I wouldn’t care about a “selfie” or any of that pretend and annoying shit. I’d want to say thank you.

Thank you for writing music. Thank you for being there when I was trying to deal with tough times. Thank you for encouraging me to pick up a guitar and sing my feelings out. Thank you for pointing my life in a direction. So many things I could thank for. Words aren’t great at explaining everything. Perhaps i’m just not great at using words to explain things. Either way, thanks. People can love or hate somebody. I get that. However, it’s interesting how one artist can effect so many people on such a different scale of dramatism.

If you’re a creative individual, a poet, songwriter, dancer, actor/actress or general performer, see him live if you ever get the chance. You don’t need to be a huge fan like myself, you don’t even need experience listening to his music. Just go and witness a true performer in his element. On his stage. His audience to stun. To entertain, effortlessly.

Out of all the things you could look your idol in the eye and say..

Thank you, I guess.

Thats all.

“You send me pictures before I sleep, and talk dirty to me. 

But I’m sick of these love games that I speak of, it’s the real things in life that I miss” 

(Copyright 2015 Ryan Anthony)

Another day

Here I am, another beautiful day. The sun isn’t hiding behind the clouds, she is out. Free from cover and shining bright for everybody to see. The communal areas have burst into life. People out walking their dogs, friends hanging out in the park, chatting and catching a long lost tan. Convertibles with their roofs down, posers without their shirts on. By now you probably get the point of what is occurring around me as I type this post. Another post, another day.
When I started this blog it was an experiment, as I’ve mentioned before. It was a new place to let out my thoughts, express my views, or, break down my emotions to an understandable and manageable level. Now I’ve started it, I can’t get enough of it. The more I write posts to clear my mind of thoughts, the more inspiration and ideas I get. The more I write, the more I want to write (if that makes sense). This leads me to think that I’m suffering the same symptoms as when I write music. I originally started going doing it to clear my mind of whatever view or emotion was blocking it. This being said though, they lead to more thoughts and eventually, a mild level of insanity. Well, it feels that way sometimes.

Whilst I’m sitting on this park bench, MacBook on my lap, it’s obvious what is happening here. I’m inspiring myself, I’m encouraging myself to be productive. At the same time, I’m building up a subconscious passion for blogging. I never understood the craze until I started reading lots of blogs, and writing my own. Now. I. Get. It.
A great positive out of all of this is actually reading back through my older posts. Being able to try and comprehend my thought process at that specific time. This activity is actually something I find quite interesting. I’m disagreeing with myself. Finding new ways to look at problems I had only a week ago. That’s unusual. Well it’s unusual and bizarre to me, personally. Back in the 90s, people had diaries to write in. Then years later they could read through them and kind of reminisce. Now people don’t tend to have diaries. Social media seems to hold every story the majority of people have gone through. Summing up their day in either a “status” or some photos. This is my diary, that’s what I’m going to call it..

Saying that, I’m not going to write posts about my daily events. Nobody wants to read that, here’s is an example of what you’d get:

“Today I woke up, maybe around 9am. I can’t remember fully as I’m slightly disillusioned when first waking up. Like all other days, my first activity was brushing my teeth. What a lovely feeling, fresh breathe…”

A post like that would suck. I write on here to try and bring many different thought patterns together. I’m learning about myself, and that was the main reason I decided to adapt and dive into this blogging hobby without fully thinking it through.
Like I said though, another day. Another day or writing, another day of trying to be productive but realising that I’m worse off now than I was before university back in 2011. Four years have gone by, I feel like I’ve gone downhill, but actually I haven’t. I’ve learnt a lot, I’ve matured. I am what I am, that will continue to grow and develop into the future…

A new chapter..

Tomorrow is my birthday. The fourth of June. One more year older.

I can look at this celebration in numerous ways. One being that i’m thankful to be alive, I’m glad to be healthy. Too many people on this overly glorified planet aren’t, it angers and distresses me greatly that the tiny percentage of billionaires can’t suck up their pride and help others (there is a lot more to this opinion and view than I want to get into during this post). Another way could be to wish I’d spent the last few years more productively as they have whizzed by quicker than imageinable. To reflect on this, I could have made a list of what I wanted to accomplish in the past year, it wouldn’t have happened. I get new ideas and pathways all the time, lately I just lost my focus and pathway to success.

No matter what way I look at tomorrow, no matter how I plan to celebrate it or ignore the occasion, its still going to happen. Another date will be crossed off the calendar. Another year would have come and gone. I feel like i’m getting old, i’m only going to be 22-years-old. Millions of people around the world would give anything to be 22 again, yet I seem ungrateful about it.

It’s not that i’m sad or ungrateful, I just mentally cannot comprehend where the last 3/4 years of my lifetime have gone. I’ve accomplished some great things, I’ve met some even nicer people yet I feel like I should have done more. But then, age is just a number labelled to somebody, linked to the date they entered this great world. Age isn’t going to stop me doing what I love, what I enjoy and so forth. It shouldn’t stop you either!

A new chapter. A simple turn of a page in a book. Metaphorically, a new part of my life. As you may or may not know from my previous posts, i’ve mentioned a lot of changes in my life since the beginning of this year. I’ve adjusted though. I’ll push forward no matter what and learn from my experiences or mistakes. I lost a family, a wonderful girlfriend, a lot of friends and my motivational drive and passion for what I wanted to do with my life. Lately, things have looked brighter, a lot brighter. I started a new job, it’s local, really enjoyable, the guys their are great. Plus, it’s related to my hobbies. WHATS NOT TO LOVE?!!

My focus into songwriting has grown rapidly again and i’m rolling out new songs constantly, like an inspired, musical genie. My EP release did well, I regret not gigging it like I should have but there is always time. I’ve spent some time away visiting family and friends and so on. I hope i haven’t lost your attention and bored you to sleep. I’m really struggling to get my thought process out in this post. All of the above mentioned things have brightened my mood more than I could have imagined. Coincidentally, they’ve all fallen around my birthday. The perfect metaphorical location for a fairytale ending to a chapter. The beautifully driven and dedicated beginning to a new chapter.

I’ve sorted out my head, had some honest conversations with people I used to be very close to. Ended one chapter. Started a new one. I also reconnected to arguably the closest person I had to me for a few years. Of course I have things I wish i could change, thats impossible now. They’re in the past, I don’t necessarily live with regrets. Frustrations, i think is a better way to put them. That’s  what we’ll call them for argument sakes.

I’m not going to ramble on for much longer as it is almost 11:30pm, 3rd June 2015. Half an hour left of being a 21-year-old. Half an hour left of an exciting age, spiralling uncontrollably towards my 30s at 100MPH. I’m excited about this coming year though. I’m on a mission to better my lifestyle, complete my goals and share it with that one special person…I will have all mentioned. Whatever it all takes.

Here is to another year, it’ll be gone before I truly feel like i’ve got started but i’m going to make my plans. Write down my goals. Win back my drive. Gain inspiration and press forward in this lifetime. Time to get back to it. Work hard. Make money. Travel. Release music. Tour. Kiss the love of my life. Learn. Improve. Grow. Enjoy.

Happy birthday to me for tomorrow, I don’t know how I feel about it being my birthday. The day will be over before I know it though…..

Words and Music

For as long as I can remember, English has never been my strong subject. I battled through primary school trying my hardest to be able to read as well as everyone else, to write as neatly as my old sister or be able to understand how words on a piece of paper have revolutionised a culture. Look at the works of William Shakespeare for example.
Some of my youngest memories go back to reading hour in primary school, everyone reaching in their book-bags for something inspiring whilst I normally took the time to have a nap or be a ‘pain-in-the-backside’ for the teacher. I regret this. Yet at the same time I believe finding your own way into a love for literature is more rewarding. Discovering your own interests is far more important than being pushed into something from a young age. Or any age to be honest. That’s my opinion.

Away from the reading side of things, the writing was never my strong suit either. I had extra teaching support and always struggled with grammar, verbs, nouns, sentence structure and so forth. Something I did find interesting from a young age however, was music. Being aware of how a melody without lyrics could create an emotion, how a chord progression and a rhythm could inspire. This could have been subconsciously created by my Dad. I remember every Saturday and Sunday morning he would play his music collection. Everything from Genesis to Bruce Springsteen. My dad likes to think he is open to all music but it seems to be that if there isn’t a guitar in the song, he isn’t interested. He’d definitely hate me for pointing that out.
As my interest in music developed, I developed. I grew up. The interest turned more into a passion. This passion is something I hold today, stronger than ever, the desire to expand my knowledge. As my interest into the world of music expanded, I grew an intellectual interest into literature for the first time in my life. Starting with artists such as Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Bruce Springsteen slowly led into more such as Nirvana, Foo Fighters and Machine Head. All of these being a wide range in regards to musical genre, yet they all had one thing in common, something I picked up on quickly, poetry. Not all lyrics in songs rhyme, neither do poems. Song structures and poetic structures run simultaneously. My music taste grew, my studies into lyrical structure expanded, I grew an interest into poetry.

Whilst all this was going on, I wrote my own music, my own lyrics, my own poems. These artists inspired me, they still do today, the more I learnt the better I wanted to be as a song writer. The more I looked into poetry, the more I realised that a great deal of poems and songs are based upon a story, an experience or a historical event. This eventually pushed my younger, adventurous self towards books. The imaginations of many authors that I envy, the events of history that I find hard to believe, and how they have changed society and cultures as we know them today. The more music I listened to, the more poems I read, the more stories I learnt about, the more history I took onboard. It was a dramatically encouraging roll-on effect.

To me words can change everything, one sentence can inspire a generation. Similar to the effects of one song. Look at Bob Dylan’s ‘Blowing in the Wind’, and how it affected the Civil Rights Movement. How Martin Luther King’s speech opened people’s eyes (in a metaphorical sense, not literally).
I like to think my own music can inspire others. Besides everything, they’re my own views after all, my own emotions and my own experiences being expressed. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m not one to talk about my feelings. Having a guitar in my hands and a notepad in front of me helps me express a great deal. Writing music keeps me sane. Yet sometimes it drives me insane when it doesn’t come together smoothly. That frustration will be contained and left unheard of for now.

No matter who you are, where you’re from, where you are now, who you know, or your occupation, don’t become detached from the power of words. The power of music. The evolution of these topics combined together. A story isn’t a story unless it’s told to the masses.

Seeing is believing, somebody once said.

Back when I was a youngster, a charming young bubbly boy who had the world as their oyster. Anything was possible from that age. I used to laugh about everything, run around until my legs couldn’t take any more, bounce around without a care in the world, i did what I wanted. I said what I wanted. I like to explain my younger, child self as an extraordinary, entertaining and cute individual. The wider picture being that actually, I was a dick. That is what the majority would say. Old teachers would agree, my parents definitely do. Sorry Mum. Sorry Dad.

This being said, I was told during this charming, indulgent period of my life that seeing is believing. I cannot remember exactly who said this, may have been a family member, may have been somebody in school, may have been a weird stranger, whilst offering me sweets and pointing to their van. However, I believe this thought process is seemingly interesting, quite frankly, i think it’s wrong.

You can look from the point of view that you have to see something before you know it exists, before you know that its “real”, before you know its something to believe in. On the other hand, does something really need to be physically viewable in order for one to believe in it? I don’t think so. I think that belief in something is like a faith, you can believe in whatever you want to. Sometimes people believe in something out of hope. Sometimes they believe because it’s something they imagine to be real, because it brings them happiness. Whatever the case, seeing is NOT believing. Nipping back to the time when I was young, there was Santa Claus, something that nearly every child believes in. No I have never met him, i’ve never even seen him, but who am I to say he exists or not? I’m just a hairy bearded man with a keyboard and a blank page to fill with my words. As a child, christmas would suck without the belief and the hope that Santa was coming. Yeah there is more to christmas than presents. It’s a day of celebration, a time to spend with the family, a great dinner. A really, really good dinner. These things you take for granted when you’re young. I especially did. I still do now because deep down I don’t like “family” time. There are many reasons behind this but maybe thats a thought for another day.

Whilst on the topic of Santa, Father Christmas, St Nicolas, whatever the lovely old chaps name, what about the Tooth Fairy? I believed in the tooth fairy, it made losing a tooth not too bad. It was 20p for a small tooth, £1 for a big tooth. Or if I was lucky, maybe more. £1 was 100 1p sweets back in the day. All the ingredients of sugar to help me lose more teeth..

Thinking about this statement I realised it isn’t about seeing at all, it’s deeper embedded in our souls than that. It’s about hope, faith, happiness, excitement, determination and so on. I believe in many things. I don’t believe in God (you can say i’m “bad” for that, but as mentioned in a previous post, every body to their own). I still believe their is somebody up there, up in the sky looking down on me. A friend who i’ve lost, or a family member no longer with us. I still believe that we’re here for a reason, I believe that if I work hard enough and push towards my goals they’re achievable. I also believe that many people thought I was a dick as a child. Maybe think i’m a dick of an adult. Even though that one is more obvious but hidden by my ego.

Belief is a very important part of our society, without dreams or putting our trust in an idea or a concept, what do we really have to guide us? What do we have to look forward to? Whats next? Where are we heading during this journey of life, as a species, evolving, learning, why? No matter how you look at it, I think everybody believes in at least one thing. I used the Tooth Fairy and Santa as examples, they were the first thing that came to mind at the time to prove my point about happiness, excitement and acceptance (especially how sad it would be losing a tooth as a 10 year old knowing nothing would come of it).

Seeing is not believing. Believing alone is a beautiful thing, something internal, something incredibly powerful to pick us up from our lowest points. That can’t be taught by anybody, that is some thing that comes naturally to us, us humans, us as one species. We’re all individuals and you’re as good as everybody else. A life is a life, no matter how famous you are, poor, religious interests, your skin colour, you’re equal. You’re beautiful. You are a human being, just like me. We’re all stuck on this planet together so how about we stick together and stop arguing about crazy things and starting wars. I’m going to end that there before I go off on one for ages.

Don’t let anybody say something isn’t real because you can’t see it. As humans we can only see between ultraviolet and infrared light, there could be wonderful things all around us and we’d be unaware anyways. Believe all you want, put your faith in something that makes you happy. Strive towards your dreams, and never let any make you feel like you’re not equal.

“Why can’t you forgive me for what I should have said?
7 Billion of us and I chose you amongst the rest”

(© Copyright Ryan Anthony 2015)

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Birthdays

Birthdays are a strange concept to think about. The fact that they’re a yearly celebration from the date you were born is understandable. It’s the bits about how people feel about their birthdays, that’s what makes it unusual..

When I was a child, a birthday was the most exciting time to look forward to (except for Santa or the Tooth Fairy for example). The counting down to the big day, I’M GOING TO BE OLDER!! Getting presents in the morning and then celebrating with some friends and eating cake. What a day to look forward to. Thinking back, I’m not sure if I was so excited about becoming a year older or just receiving presents (possibly, just the cake). Yes that makes me sound spoilt, and I understand there are many people in the world who aren’t privileged enough and that saddens me, but I’m trying to understand my own experience of life here.

The strangest thing about the “BIG DAY” is how people respond to it. When I was younger I was excited, as explained above, it was BRILLIANT! Now I’m getting older all of my excitement happens to have evaporated. It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I was turning 18 years old. Being an English gentleman (you read that right, a gentleman), that’s a big deal, legally I could drink alcohol, or smoke cigarettes, or go into a nightclub. The important word here being ‘legally’. Basically everything that “cool kids” get up to these days, yet it didn’t change anything because I was already doing that stuff. I looked older than my age, fortunately. I was already tattooed by then too, wow that’s weird thinking back about.
Now I have realised that in less than a month I’m going to be turning 22 years old. This upsets me slightly.
No, my 18^th birthday doesn’t feel that long ago, however, since then I’ve been in a wonderful relationship, got a degree, released two EPs (possibly 3, I can’t remember…), played many gigs, met some great people and learnt a lot about myself. This all makes me think. It makes me think that it must have been a long time ago, times has just come and gone too quickly.

Sometimes I think it’s best to take a step back and actually see what you’ve accomplished in a specific period of time. I had a checklist of things I wanted to achieve before I was 21 years old, hardly any of them were ticked. Yet as I mature, I realise that time doesn’t change anything. It was created by mankind, it was mankind that meant an hour had 60 minutes in it. If we changed it to 70 minutes from now on, as weeks go by, that slightest change would bring darkness to day, and light skies to night, how unusual.

Anyways, my point is, when you’re younger you get excited about growing up, birthdays are brilliant.
When you’re my age you’re a little uneasy about seeing how quickly your life is going by, comparing that to your success and getting yourself into a tangled mess.

Adults, the older generation wish that they were younger. What an unusual concept. I’ve met older people in the past who literally do not celebrate their birthdays anymore because they don’t want to come to terms with reality or how old they are. Age is what you feel! Remember?

Enjoy being young, you’re only young once. Enjoy being adventurous, find out what you enjoy or hate the hard way. Don’t become an old man or woman regretting they tried to become successful or something else. Be the old person who can sit there and say, “At least I freakin’ tried my hardest!”.

p.s. Today is an old friend birthday, I’d like to wish her a very Happy Birthday, see me soon? (<< here is a test to see if she actually stalks my blog posts or not)