After having 6 kids, my parents took a breather. Can’t blame them. Breather? With having to take care of 6 children, how could anything sound like a breather? Yeah, good point. Well, anyway six years passed and then voila! There I was. Precious, isn’t he.
My dad said I was mature even as a baby, like a real responsible adult. Not sure if that’s true and so I will accept that as he said it. As my life continued and I became a kid then a teenager then a man child, I always had a dream. A huge goal. It was what I used to get everywhere. I used it in school, knowing that school wasn’t my path. I used it to get by, survive. Then I was a grown up. I had children, a job, responsibilities and people who counted on me. That never felt bad to me. I suppose I was ready for that from a very young age.
I met the goal, or so it seemed. A strange thing was happening and I wonder if my being the baby of the family plays a roll. I never feel satisfied. In fact it always feels like every time I can reach the hoop, someone lifts it up an inch or two.
When I was a child in a house with 8 other people, there were times of joy and times of trouble. Those things came and went and I always had forever to solve any problems that may have occurred. Now I don’t feel like I have forever. I feel like I only have one problem to solve and I have to really figure it out soon, before I lose sight of the answer forever.
How do I become okay with my life results?! How do I look at my body and say, “Not bad.”? How do I listen to my records and say, “Dude, you fucking did it!”? When will I sit in a dressing room in Birmingham, England, knowing that I am about to perform to a beautiful group of people in a sold out O2 venue and look in the mirror and think, “Congratulation! You’ve come a long way.” Because all I do now is want more. I want to look better. I want to be better. I want to have more and more and more love till I explode. I read 10,000 things from people that say “I LOVE YOU, Pat” and then one that says,”Hey Pat You suck!” and I am filled with sadness to my bones.
Some say that I feel these things because I am an artist. I don’t feel like an artist. Some say I am the baby of the family and that’s the way that works. But I’m certainly not a baby of anyone’s family anymore. I’m just a man trying to do his best and breaking shit along the way.
I promise myself to stop taking things personally but then the time comes and I do the whole routine all over again. Then I commiserate with others and it feels better for a moment or two. I sometimes feel like I should call it quits and grow a garden. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing some good for people. Sometimes I could use a break. Sometimes I could use a friend. And sometimes I feel like I am not alone and that makes me feel a bit better.
I don’t know if I will ever solve this one. The only thing I can do is my best. I hope that everyone in my life always knows that I am always trying to do my best.