Friday = Free Day!
Celebrity Deaths

Punk Rock And Me

Yeah. I'm not really that punk rock. More of a poser really. But listening to Green Day (I know, I know, bear with me...) has really made me feel good. I think it's because I can sing/shout and pound my hands on my steering wheel to the music, which is "acceptable" in our society. Really what I want to do is scream and yell and break things and run and run and run until I can't run anymore, until I can barely breath. 

Most of it is my sister being dead. How could she leave me and my mom and her kids this way? How could she be so selfish? The preppie-square in me says: Stop it. You are the one being selfish. I say: Fuck you, square-preppie me, I'm pissed off, leave me alone.
  
I want to pound on the drums, which really means I want to break things. There is so much to get out. But in moments of mellow-ness, when the volume on 21st Century Breakdown is not rattling the windows in the car, I think: Okay, I can't suddenly be a rock and roll drummer and sit down at a drum kit and beat out some cathartic rhythms. What can I do? How can I express all this? Writing. How can I be a punk writer? Wait, do I have to be a punk writer? Doesn't that mean I just want to be HONEST? 

Yes, that's it. Honest. True. Harsh even, in some situations. My punk side says: Stop being such a pussy and write what you feel! My preppie-square side says: ooooh, scary!

Time to really get over it. Stop being so afraid. 

Time to bang out some truth.

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