inspiration

i found this last night. it really struck me; hit me so hard over the head i think i'm still seeing stars. really makes ya think, huh?

we were attracted to this life for a reason.
we sing the songs of rebellion and raise our fists against it all.
we chant slogans and read books and find music in opposition.
in protest of a life we don’t want.
a refusal of common and boring.
our dissent boils over with middle fingers and blue hair.
because fuck them, right?
they don’t get it.
they don’t see what we see.
they don’t live the lives we do.
no one understands but those singers and those with the heart to hold the protest signs.
and that’s fine.
better than fine...

but why?
for what?

be different. be weird. be unique. be gay. be free. be fucked.
color your hair. rip your clothes. tattoo your skin. read books your parents told you not to. watch documentaries. listen to artists. love who you want. stand for a cause. raise your voice. oppose the haters. speak up.

but remember why you do it.

if you have green hair and you don’t know why, fuck you.
if you sing along to the rally song for the hook, fuck you.
if you pick up a cause and don’t know why, fuck you.
if you tour the country in a broken van and don’t see the beauty in three am gas station dinners, don’t do it.

i don’t know your inspiration, i only know mine.
this scene. this culture. this community... is a parachute, not a destination.
it’s a scope for your high-powered rifle of splendor and wonderment.

there is supposed to be a purpose behind all of this.
not all that DIY/punk ethos i’m always talking your ear off about... but about building a better life for yourself.
we are attracted to this for a reason.
in the beginning it all seems so clear but after time, tends to lose its luster.
the image gets smudged by back-stabbing, scene points, who got to the barricade first, list spots, message board drama, backstage passes and name dropping.
don’t you remember why you wanted this?
when it was more than music.
when it was a fight.
and not a fight against your parents and the kids at school or even the popular radio dance crap you hear day in and day out, when it was about a real fight... the fight to save yourself from yourself.

see, this isn’t about that hot and sweaty feeling of being smashed in a sea of a thousand people or dressing up for the show on friday or throwing elbows at the dude who is sweating all up on your back or winking at the bass player or impressing boys or girls or bands or security guards or getting on tour buses... its about being alone in your room with headphones on and feeling it so hard it brings tears to your eyes.

its about driving home alone at night and screaming at the top of your lungs to words that at that moment in the world, only you understand.
it’s about not being scared anymore.
it’s about the refusal to sit on a couch and rot.
it’s about forcing yourself out the door to be productive.
and it’s about wanting to live so hard you just know you're going to shred this world or go out trying.

while you're off playing 'punk' or whatever it is your crazy kids do these days, remember one thing... this is not here by accident.
groups of people across this world make this possible because a few groups of people before them had a crazy idea that life is ours for the taking and we get to paint it any fucking color we like because it’s the only one we got and we need to make the best of it.
to make it fun.
so that one day, we can learn to have fun and smile when it snows and get excited to pass on the secret we learned about life.

that it’s not about playing things safe, because safe fun is for retards in bike helmets and knee pads.
real fun is in the adventure of the leap from the stage to the crowd.

and real living is in the faith of knowing someone will catch you.

because you would for them.


-christopher gutierrez