Try!

I need to get out.
I really really need to get out.
I am not a wallflower. My friends that think they are wallflowers are not wallflowers.
Why do we feel this way anyway? We are so antisocial, nay, lazy, that we tend to feel ignored or unnoticed when really, we're just not making an attempt to get out there.
Where is there? Anywhere. Go see a movie. Go to the park. Play croquet. Get drunk and play spin-the-bottle. I don't care (but if you choose the last one, let me know).
My last few outings have been purely music related. I went back to the Sauasalito Cruising Club for another Monday night blues jam, and I must say that I played wonderfully. I've found I don't solo well under pressure, but recognizing most of the crowd from last time, I felt no pressure to have to wow them.
Tuesday was spent with Chris and Justin at Justin's house. We played through our set list for our upcoming webcast (late September, folks) and I played my ass off. Seriously, I don't think I've ever played better in my life. The shared energy between three people coming together to play the music they love helped create an amazing sound emanating from the garage.
It couldn't have been easier. Chris and my shared obsession over John Mayer made those songs easy to play, and our love of the blues made the slow blues songs fabulous (especially when Chris and I both played with one hand while holding our sodas in the other hand).
That's the great thing about the blues. You can improvise, and you don't have to learn a specific part.
I deeply admire and respect Eric Clapton, often to the point of worship, but when we motored through "Crossroads," I know my solo was more engaging than anything Clapton's played in the last ten years. Go on youtube and check. His playing has decreased as he's aged. He's lost that youthful energy, and not even a guitar battle with John Mayer was able to get him to kick himself in the ass and say "fucking GO!"
I think that was the first time I've said "fuck" in a blog.
No. This is the fourth, not including a quote by a friend, and the above "fuck."
I've gotten off topic from what I was saying, but wallflowers are just people who think they're wallflowers. The people at parties that stand against a wall and think "Hmph. Look at him, having a good time. God, she's so beautiful."
There is absolutely nothing preventing you from having a good time, with the possible exception of torture. But even then, you can say "Thank you sir, can I have another?"
People who think they're wallflowers just need a kick in their self-esteem's ass.
As a wise man once said,
Easy does it now,
just keep your damn mouth shut.
She thinks you're hot already,
don't go and press your luck.
No news is good news coming,
you've got to know you tried.
Don't go and blow it,
you do every single time.

That wise man was John Mayer, and the song was "Try!" Sometimes, you have to fall flat on your ass to boost your self esteem. Sometimes you've got to spend money to make money. If you realize that rejection, embarrassment, and humiliation aren't that bad, then you're more likely to be more social.
But Jason, you ask, what if I've ruined my reputation?
Simple. Get a new reputation.
If you were the most popular kid in school (like schools even have a "popular" clique these days) and you ruined your reputation by sleeping with a teacher to get the answers to a test.
Become a photographer, and claim your "abuse" is an inspiration and a recurring theme in your photography. It doesn't have to be good, but if you say that it's inspired by abuse, people will have pity on you and love you again.
Your friends might not, but you can always make new ones.

Speaking of creepy sex, Edward Cullen is the worst thing to happen to literature since Adolf Hitler's autobiography "Mein Kampf."
Oh, and Bella chooses Edward instead of Jacob.
Spoiler alert, bitch.

Bring me the heads of Kim Kardashian, Carmen Electra, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, Tyra Banks, the programmers at MTV and VH1, John McCain, Dick Cheney, and the person on that Yahoo! chatroom that said they would never vote for Barack Obama because he's "too skinny."

Seriously, people?
This is a good sign.
They can't find any fault with Barack Obama.
He's "elitist," because he prefers arugula. He's "a fool" for telling people to fill up their tires, even though every expert agrees. He's "too skinny". If he eats fast food, he's "being fake and bending to the will of the people."
Give me a fucking break (four "fucks" in one blog!). Are people really that shallow?
Unfortunately, yes. Forget killing millions of Jews. Forget genocide in Darfur.
These are the people that should be wiped out, regardless of race, appearance, gender, or religion.
John McCain was trying to discuss problems on the "Iraq-Pakistan border."
There is no Iraq-Pakistan border. There is only Iran.
Iran, and you should run too. This is a very old, very confused, likely dangerous man. This man was middle-aged when William Howard Taft was just a young statesman. This man makes C. Montgomery Burns look like a toddler. I'm exaggerating, of course, but that's still no reason to vote for him.
I've never gotten this political in a blog before. This is a blog full of firsts.

Brian Wilson's coming to the Paramount Theater to perform his new album That Lucky Old Sun in its entirety the day after my birthday. YES. He is one of my all-time heroes. Listen to Pet Sounds or Smile to fully understand his genius.

I like to think of myself as a party animal, but the last time I was at a party and was given alcohol, I was really nervous and freaked out if someone took a picture. God forbid someone should put the evidence on the internet, like, say, a blog.
I like to think of myself as a drinker, but I've only been really drunk twice.
I like to think of myself as a songwriter, but I only like three of my 592063064 songs.
I like to think of myself as a person with a flowering social life, but these days that flower seems to be wilting."

Is it all in that pretty little head of yours? What goes on in that place in the dark? Well, I used to know a girl, and I could've sworn that her name was Veronica. She used to have a carefree mind of her own, with a delicate look in her eyes. These days I'm afraid she's not even sure if her name is Veronica."
-Elvis Costello, "Veronica"

That song speaks to me. It's about Elvis Costello's grandmother, who had Alzheimer's and couldn't remember who he was. My great-aunt has dementia. Sometimes she doesn't even remember her own brother. I'd like to see her again, but my dad would prefer that our memories of her remain pleasant. I feel bad about this. I feel like I'm being sheltered from the real world. What if, in their old age, my parents develop Alzheimer's or dementia? Will I know how to deal with it, short of reading an informational pamphlet?

Sigh.

I just reread most of this post. Blogging to an audience of, like, three has been therapeutic. Like talking to a psychiatrist who doesn't say anything, but just lets me talk.
I have issues, and I need to share them with someone.
There's just so many questions I have left unanswered.
But those are a mystery for another day.

-Jason

Try!