My Vicky Life

A vote of confidence. Thank you. The reason I sometimes hesitate to speak as freely as I’d like is because I feel a certain responsibility where my followers are concerned. Most, I sense, are right-brain romantics, and unfortunately for them, I’m a left-brain realist. The one thing a lot of us have in common is the fact that we admire a fellow called Brandon Boyd, but, I think, for very different reasons. He, too, I believe, is a right-brain romantic, but I’m a much bigger fan of his darker side, that angry streak that seems to be gone now, or at least subdued. That part of him that observed the world with such a critical eye, and questioned why things are the way they are. Recent evidence suggests he’s found some answers, which should make me happy for him, and I am, but I’m nevertheless experiencing some difficulty with the product of that contentment. If you listen to the last Incubus album, If Not Now, When?, it’s ALL about demanding happiness. (“When will I get mine?” “When will I stand up and face the bright light?” “I want more than this kite will soar,” “I want more than you can offer…”) I really don’t know how autobiographical these songs are, but the overwhelmed adolescent seems to have succeeded. He endured his ordeal with the wolves in the wilderness, emerged transformed, and now enjoys enchanted evenings on the wings of fireflies. Nothing wrong with that, especially since such happiness is contagious. Unlike my followers, though, I seem to be immune. As usual, I’m overthinking this, but my problem with happy people is that they sometimes tend to be a little too free and easy with the advice. In the world I live in, you put your hand in the spokes and it had better be a hand you won’t be needing any time soon. Ten toes into the abyss? Well, nice to know you. So you see, where everyone else is seeing unicorns and rainbows, all I’m seeing are body parts flying all over the place. And trust me on this one - you swing and miss too many times and eventually you’re out. All this is compounded by the fact that I’m still having a heap of trouble with the whole concept of undoing oneself. “It’s not so hard,” he says. “Just forgive yourself,” which is only the hardest thing in the world. It’s not like you can “just” do it. “It takes courage and control, and you start by letting go” - the OTHER hardest thing in the world. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve been trying to let go of the wrong things. Maybe what I need to let go of is this blog, if only to relieve my poor followers of all my pathetic negativity, which can also be contagious. I don’t know. I’m still trying to decide. Meanwhile, I’ve done what I said I wasn’t going to do. I said I wasn’t going to bitch about a perfectly beautiful song, at least not until I’d heard the whole EP. There’s still the possibility that the rest of it will put into context what I’ve heard so far, and I’ll end up having to post a most humble and apologetic retraction. Actually, I’d like nothing better.