Empty Theater

One thing I really enjoy about my job is the solitude I find. Driving here and there doing this and that gives me a lot of time to think things through and process just what exactly is happening to me. Whether it be the stress of moving into a new place or simply dealing with a repressed emotional state, I get plenty of opportunity to meditate and weigh the decisions I have to make.

I feel I should mention at this point that half the music I have on my phone is just random stuff that I threw on there just for the sake of taking up space. Yeah, I’m one of those guys. However, I am fully aware of what type of junk I put on it. So, I may not know what a song may have in it but I’ll put it on there because the title makes it seem relevant. It’s odd considering that this is one of these instances where the ignorance of my own content gave me a swift kick in the ass.

Pretty much since I was a teenager, I have honestly felt like that the majority of the time I’ve spent with people has either been me trying to speak to an empty room or a room full of people who didn’t give a damn. As I got older, I’ve found that it doesn’t nearly bother me as much now because I can shrug it off and move on with things. However, as a child wanting someone to believe in them, your hopes and dreams falling upon deaf ears and unfeeling hearts can savagely curtail our own social and emotional development. Unfortunately for me, I was such a person. Suffice it to say, I was not a very happy person. That’s a discussion for another time, though. Back to the message at hand…

When I first listened to this song, I wasn’t expecting for it to hit me like it did. I grew up around music and I had wonderful teachers who did their part to nurture that part of who I am now. As a teenager, you don’t really appreciate much of anything much less the importance of music and believe me when I tell you that it is pivotal. In my own personal case, it wasn’t until I got older when I could fully appreciate how music can help you get along with yourself or offer clarity when it is being elusive.

I’ll preface what is to come by saying that I’ve had a hard time developing… whatever this is… because I’m not sure how it will all work together and that’s assuming I can build momentum. There’s definitely a feeling of unrequited interest or appreciation, that’s for sure. But, that’s not really what stood out to me. Here’s the part that did:

“So, I labor for hours ’cause I know the power of a song
When a song hits you right
[I]Pour my soul into stories of life
Hoping someone will hear one tonight”

I’m big enough to admit when I’ve gotten kicked in the mouth and this is one of those times. A lot of the time we want maximum effectiveness with minimum effort. I’ll admit that I’ve been like this too. I’ve swung for the fences and come up empty and it’s not a wonderful feeling. Especially as a kid who didn’t really know better than to start small and progress. It’s nothing short of a profound revelation that what I want to do now is how I lived life as a teenager: speaking to an empty room. Instead now, I just hope that someone somewhere is listening. Instead of hoping and praying that I’m being heard as my teenager self could attest.

In a time where social media lets us be interconnected in a way that we could have never dreamed possible, anyone with something to say can find themselves talking to great audiences and ultimately have not a single soul listen and then be dissuaded by people saying “I told you so.” Concurrently in that moment, be left wanting forgiveness and mercy and in turn be greeted by having your spirit broken.

It’s really weird how we can learn things. In moments where we fully expect to be kicked while we are down and ostracized out of pride, opportunities for growth can appear. For me, it came in a phrase:

“I love you,” not “I told you so.”

I don’t think anyone would like to perform for an audience of none. As life would have it, someone is always listening.

We just don’t think that our own selves are the ones that should be listening.

-Kevin

Author. Blogger. Photographer. Podcaster. Kinda do it all, actually.

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