Negative

"A prophet is not without honor except in his own country and in his own house"
-Matt 13:57



The only way I can think to describe my life back then would be "drunk on unhappiness". Maybe it was a product of growing up on post hardcore music or Woody Allen films but it seemed like there was no spring to the winter of my discontent.

The worst moments were the late nights. A bright computer screen and the looming, nearly audible, grind of time passing and being wasted. Waking up late because, hell, why not? Staying up late for the same reasons and perpetuating a dull existence.

I wanted so badly to give it all a reason - to say that the small things, the insignificant experiences, could be a microcosm for bigger things. Thinking I was struggling for my art. But in reality I was just like rubber soled shoes on melting ice. The worst was imminent, all that was left was for fate to decide if i slipped or broke through.

I thought I could write something important back then. Grow into something worth listening to. I would look at my favorite stories like arrows pointing to the tidy slot my voice could fit into. I have no idea why that thought popped into my head. The notion that I had a chance and the blind hope in a phrase like "making it."

I was watching TV with my parents one early afternoon. A recorded late night talkshow that we could all agree on. I always talked when I watched TV. It might have been when I was most conversational.

"You're always so negative Evan."

"But this band is a joke, look at that guy, he's seriously convinced that he is a cowboy."

"Don't you have anything positive to say ever, son?"

"They can't play more songs, I guess that's a good thing."

"See? Listen to yourself every once in a while, not one good thing comes out. Nobody likes hanging around a critical person."

I was the accused in my own home -though, as they saw it, it was their home and I was still living in it. A sentiment which was at first unsettling but it seemed like every day I felt more like a guest. My parents were probably right, I was being negative, even prodding them a bit. But the more they derided my behavior, the less I wanted to tone it down.

"Whatever, I'm just saying-"

"That's the thing Evan, you don't have to say anything at all."

"You're the one that asked me why I was laughing. I mean the guy has two slide guitarists. And the sound is so cleaned up, it's a wonder they didn't just play the track over speakers while he two-stepped around the stage."

"You can't even do it Evan. What happens when you have a wife someday? she wont want to listen to that kind of talk all day."

I just ignored them. I wasn't rebelling because there's no point in rebelling in your 20's. I wasn't even trying to make a point. Really all I wanted was to be left alone. If I couldn't be listened to in my own home then why would anyone else care to?

"Fine, I won't be negative, I'll just go upstairs."

And then I left the room.