“I remember piano lessons…”
The tune began as I sat updating my resume or as it’s called in emails, ‘résumé’. I hate doing that. I dislike interviews and the fact that despite all your work and achievements, your career depends more or less on how well you’re able to convince a stranger about your prowess.
I was having a serious conversation with a buddy who’d shown up at work one day, about a few opportunities and how I’m dumbfounded by the kind of decisions I need to make.
That very evening I hummed the tune for the first time in years.
Not remembering the lyrics as well, maybe I never did back then too. Just humming the tune of Piano Lessons by Porcupine Tree. I play the song as I wait for my friends to wrap up work. I read the lyrics and feel a connection…
I play it again, and again, and again. Read about the lyrics, the band, the album, the meaning of the song on ‘popmatters’ as it plays. Repeat.
I read to realise that the song is a metaphor for how the music industry runs on stereotypes and packaging and doesn’t focus on the art behind the tunes anymore. It “strips artists of their creativity.”
As I see the still above in the music video… I realise that’s me in the corner. That’s me in the spotlight, losing my… attention. Err, sorry. I realise that’s me in my current situation. Lost, trapped, confused in the quest of ‘packaging’ myself. Not just now, but since a couple of years. Preparing my case to present myself as ‘good enough’ for others to judge. And it plays…
“Credit me with some intelligence, or just credit me.”
This summer’s been a strange one… personally, professionally, mentally. Like the season finale of a show, it brought around quite a few ups and downs.
“She said there’s too much out there
Too much already said
You’d better give up hoping
You’re better off in bed”
It’s funny (and a bit ironic) how you sometimes have to go against your nature to convince someone who you really are. ‘Yes, I can do 5 completely unrelated work-tasks and I’m fairly good at them.’ ‘Wait, what do you mean I can’t do all of them?’ ‘Why do I have to choose again?’
‘Oh, so my work makes me look I’m good at what you think I’m good at, and my word or ability holds no value. Yet you’re offering me an important role in what you think I will excel into regardless of what I have to say. Thanks ha.’
“You don’t need much to speak of
No class, no wit, no soul
Forget your own agenda
Get ready to be sold”
‘What do you mean you got too comfortable?’
“I didn’t mean to lose direction
I didn’t want that kind of fame”
Well, some compromise is always needed to unwrap the bigger picture. And plus nothing builds an ego more than it getting destroyed. Probably what’s happening here. Probably few days to go till I log back into the estranged yet esteemed Jobless Journal.
“And even though I got it all now
My only stupid dream
I see you and me together
And how it should have been”
Regardless of what comes my way.
Regardless of how long that takes.
Regardless of anything.
It’s, (remember when I tell you) …clobbering time.
Why ‘clobbering time’ specifically? Well, that’s just a tale for another day. Meanwhile I continue my journey to auction my abilities to the highest bidder. Let’s just hope there’s an epic guitar solo hiding somewhere around here…
“Credit me with some intelligence
If not just credit me
I come in value packs of ten
In five varieties.”
It’s only fair you listen to the song now. Ciao.