#1 Hello World
Hello, cruel world. It is the middle of the night and I have made the decision to take the leap into what will hopefully be the continuation of the personal journey of a boy who has been lost for too many seasons. As I near the end of my BA in Music Performance and World Music, I stand before a critical crossroad between my world in small-town Ohio and the beginning of the rest of my life. It is WILD to me that in less than a year, I will have a bachelors degree, no job prospects, lots of debt, and an even stronger, more intimate connection to the sonic world than I ever imagined possible. By the way, my name is Joe and this late night post is sponsored by Lana Del Ray, Sesame Chicken, and Tanqueray and Raspberry LaCroix.
Setting the Stage: Tonight, I find myself 400 miles from home in the middle of a sort of internship/ sort of research fellowship... situation? -- Let me explain.
Before I get to that, I find it worth mentioning that the inspiration of starting this blog came from a dear friend of mine from high school, Keni. Though we are not very close anymore, she has always been a young woman who I have looked up to and admired for her strength and effervescent personality. So, go follow her blog, or don’t. I’m not your mother.
This spring, I was awarded a prestigious fellowship through my school which is giving me the opportunity to study a new style of music: Appalachian Old-Time (new to me, at least). As part of my proposal, I desired to learn how to play the banjo, connect with old-time musicians, and research the forgotten experience of the African Americans from whom the tradition was (partially) appropriated from. I traveled North for my first interactions with the community with my new instrument and to meet some of the people who would become my mentors. Now, I am in Washington D.C., doing an internship that is turning out not to be what I had hoped. I am also conducting individual research at various libraries and museums and am drowning in data. I am also trying to keep up with my saxpohone-ing, and attempting to implement a self-care regimen that I will be able to keep up when I enter my last 2 semesters of college.
Earlier today, I was doing some research in the Library of Congress’s main reading room. Though I had been there many times, I am still constantly astounded at the sheer beauty and size of the hall. Though I have spent most of my research time in other rooms, the smaller reading rooms that I frequent are sadly closed on the weekends. After my journey through tourist traps, 3 levels of security, and a few strange looks from other, much older library patrons, my anxiety finally settled itself as I began my descent into the state blissful ecstasy that only comes from room full of old books.
Just kidding. The truly old books are kept underground in a storage facility, and I was mostly scanning articles for later use, but you get my point. During my moments of clarity between books, articles, and whenever someone sneezed, I would occasionally glance up for inspiration as my jaw would drop to the floor in awe of where I actually was.
God am I such a lucky boy to be where I am today.
Then I remind myself of the sleepless nights, anxiety attacks, and hundreds of pages of reading and writing that got me where I was.
God am I such a lucky hardworking boy to be where I am today.
I was truly proud of myself because even though I am still figuring out how to use the collections, I was able to confidently navigate my way from my apartment in Maryland all the way to the main reading room without the help of a map of any kind. I even gave a few tourists directions to with total confidence- A truly astounding accomplishment for my anxious self. This is especially astounding because I heard a woman say “I don’t think we should go over there because everyone has an ID badge that way”, which made me chuckle a bit. However, it also started a snowball of thoughts:
“Why do I wear my intern id from a different government org when navigating the halls?
What possessed me to think that it was a good idea to wear long sleeves, khakis, and leather oxfords on a humid Saturday in Washington D.C. in JULY?!?!
Why did I stop wearing the bright colors that bring my joy?
How dare I feel knowledgable enough of the maze that is the Library of Congress tunnels and tourists' needs to interrupt them and offer directions to a room that I only found for the first time literally yesterday?
What the hell am I doing at 21 years old with a fellowship, when I actually have no clue what I’m doing?
Why do I not feel deserving of the opportunities that I have earned?
“It is crushing to realize that I have lived in the academic bubble these last 3 years where I am *mostly* not being judged by my skin color or sexual orientation only to be thrust into a city where these issues are not only very real, but personally hurtful. I myself have even caught myself glaring at other people of various demographics while taking part in this judgmental culture. Being a midwestern, queer, man of color, I realized that I have subconsciously made these changes to my behavior, dress, and language in order to pass as a non-threatening, older-than-I-look, more-put-together-than-I-actually-am academic. I flaunt the little knowledge that I do have to others to prove to myself that I am doing alright, even though I am only a few-hours-of-wandering-around more familiar with the building than they. Hopefully I helped them out and did not come across as condescending. This is something that I need to work on as I continue.”
Immediately following these thoughts, I then remind myself, “It’s okay to be happy and confident with where you are today, even if you only just got here today.”
Breathe, Joe. Your brain is just mean sometimes
I am proud of how far I have come in order to have this dialogue within myself without loosing my cool. I am proud that I have found something that I genuinely enjoy and am able to guide my independent learning experience in a productive direction. I want to be happy that I was willing to helped a confused family as much as I could. I hope that I arrive to a place where I do not feel the need to change my appearance and actions to ‘prove’ to myself and others that I am well adjusted to my current environment.
After a cup of iced coffee at one of my favorite coffee shops in town, a brief walk around Columbia Heights, and evening plans with friends falling through, I began my long journey home which eventually brought me to this lovely moment in time.
I could write for ages about my current projects, internship, and city experiences, but that will have to wait for my next big post.
Now, lets start the fade-out with a song from a new album which I thoroughly enjoy, In Love Again- Mannequin Pussy
If you made it this far, Thank You for taking the time to read the words that decided to leave my brain. As this blog continues to develop, I will try to use my musical knowledge to curate a soundscape that will hopefully add another layer of understanding my special brand of crazy on any given day. The first song linked in the title paragraph was Lana Del Ray’s Cruel World followed by Wilkommen, from my favorite musical (at the moment), Cabaret. This blog in no way will accurately represent my whole existence, nor should it. Here in my little corner of the internet, I hope to plant a garden of pure and unadulterated personal expression. Even if this blog showcases the confused person that I actually am, it is my hope that this will become a log of the stages of my thoughts on music, life, and all of the anxiety and fear that comes from the level up to real ‘adult’ status.
Peace and Love,
MoJo JoJo