For as long as I can remember, people have told me I’m a great writer. I’ve done considerably less writing than music in my adult life, but my writing has always been rewarded with high praise and appreciation – the kind I’d always hoped my music would provoke. But alas, we have no way of controlling the sensations of those around us. The more I tried to get people to love my band, the more I noticed they just didn’t feel it. But they felt me when I wrote about how hard that was to take; how it made me walk away and start anew. It’s entirely possible these long blogs have a way of tugging at people’s hearts because I only write them when there’s something really hard to say. My songs on the other hand, they could be about anything. I once wrote a blues song about how I didn’t want my band to play blues songs. Of course most of the time I was going for something with a little more substance, but I digress.
I find myself doing it again. I’m writing another long blog, about another major life event. And I’ve no idea how this all ends. I don’t even know who I’m writing to really, or if there’s any audience left who should care enough to read it. At this point, this page is becoming an annual blog about a guy who used to have a band that no one ever cared about. Yikes - things have not gone the way 16-year old Nick hoped they would.
I’m saying all this to point out that for the first time in a long time, I feel a lot of pressure for this blog to kick ass from a literary standpoint. And it’s just plain silly that I’m so conscience about it. But I am who I am. I aim to please. I’m a natural born entertainer. Or at least I was.
And therein lies my current predicament. I just don’t know how to be that anymore. Not without Cara.
If you haven’t heard, Cara and I used to be in a band called Get Along. We made music together (under one name or another) for eight years. For perspective, I’m 29-years old. If the term “my entire adult life” isn’t an appropriate one to describe how long I pursued a music career with Cara, then allow me to be inappropriate for a moment. It feels like forever. And it would, naturally. Cara and I did more than play in a band together. We built a life together. We got married. We had a daughter. We had inside jokes and subtle hints. We liked the same restaurants and knew all the same people. We had friends that felt like family and family that felt like friends. We saw miracles together (like, actual supernatural events). We learned what failure was, together. We experienced jubilance and joy. We rolled our eyes at Boulder Running Company for literally no reason at all. We walked each other through the hard stuff. Sometimes, we put each other through the hard stuff. We anticipated each new Star Wars film together. We took care of each other when we got sick. We both did the dishes. She did all the laundry, right up until it needed folding. We went on magnificent walks. We loved to sit and talk. We made each other really happy a lot of the time. We hosted Black Elephant Parties, Bible Studies, Game Nights, Toddler Birthday Bashes, Wrestleshmania’s, and two Japanese Foreign Exchange Students. We loved each other.
And then we got divorced.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t write that last one with tears in my eyes and a great heaviness in my heart. Hell, I almost forgot I’m trying to make this an impressive read. Luckily after I bumble my way through the next few pages, editing will clean up any remanence of a broken man. If only I could go back and edit the mistakes of my past, the way I do my paragraphs. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s wished for that. But like the rest of you – I’m stuck with the reality that what’s done is done. I can’t change who I am. I can’t change what happened. I can only pick myself back up and hope to be a better person with a better plan going forward. But truth be told, I have no better plan. I invested my whole life into being a successful musician. And I invested all of that lifelong dream into the woman I married; the most talented singer I had ever worked with. Cara was the easiest person to write songs with and the most fun to perform them with on stage. But she’s gone. It’s over. The dream is dead. All of the dreams we had together are dead.
And now we have to wake up and dream again. Apart. Alone.
Cara’s good at that. She’s a positive, magnetic, idealistic force with a voice that leaves no-punches-pulled. She’s a romantic with enough naivety to believe and (therefore) make anything happen. And she’s doing phenomenal things already. Her work with WorshipMob since our separation stands among the best vocal work of her life. If you haven’t checked her/them out, it’s easy to find on YouTube. I suggest you look it up, particularly if you like Contemporary Christian Worship. She’s really great, you guys.
Now back to me. The thing is, I’m not Cara. I’m not any of those pretty descriptive words I just used. Honestly, I’m kind of a bummer to work with sometimes. I’m obsessive and competitive. I’m constantly comparing my quality and success to those around me. I’m neurotic about my art and impossible to please. And the worst part is, I don’t have the talent to excuse, or overcome, these attributes. I know, I know, this all sounds self-deprecating enough to secretly be a lame ploy at fishing for compliments. Don’t worry, I’m not sitting here shitting on myself completely. Somehow, I’m also quite arrogant.
In fact, I think I’m brilliant. My mind is my talent. My vision is transcendent. I could be a once-in-a-generation personality; the kind that makes an actual impact on this world. I really believe that. Or I used to, anyway. You see, because I’m so goddamn smart, it’s easy for me to recognize that I can’t do it alone. I’m not a strong singer. I don’t play a lick of guitar and the fact that I’ve played enough keyboards on stage to convince people that I actually know what I’m doing, only goes to show that I’m better at manipulating people than I am instruments. So yeah, without Cara there’s basically just a bunch of really good, unfinished songs in my head (or on my laptop). There’s probably like 38-million people who would make that same statement. I’m over here trying to be one in a billion. You can see why, after doing the math, I’m not feeling great about my current trajectory.
So where does that leave YAN YEZ? Good question, reader. Well, as you surmised from this post so far, YAN YEZ is no longer Nick and Cara’s long anticipated sequel to Get Along. It’s just me now – Nicholas (I changed to Nicholas, if you hadn’t heard – it’s a whole rebirth thing we’ll save for another time). Unfortunately for me, Nicholas isn’t prepared to write, record, or perform music anytime in the near future. Nicholas has a lot of inner healing to do still, and a lot of things to figure out in general. Nicholas needs to focus on being as good of a father as he knows how right now. Nicholas probably needs a new crowd. Nicholas needs to take some time to get right in his head and his heart.
I need to get right, guys. I really, really do.
If you were excited for new music from me and Cara, I’m sorry we disappointed you. I’m sorry for a lot of things… You’ll be happy to hear that we wrote and recorded three songs for YAN YEZ that we both felt were the best one’s we’d ever made. You’ll be sad to hear that there’s a chance you’ll never experience them. But maybe one day you will. I sincerely hope so. I plan on keeping this page active and alive (as long as facebook lets me) in the hopes that one day I shake off all these demons and make music and film and blogs for you all again. That stuff makes life so much more worth living. Thanks to everyone who ever cared. If you send prayers and good thoughts to us, I’m sure we’ll both appreciate it. Despite everything, Cara and I are dedicated to remaining good friends and better co-parents. Our daughter is a beacon of light in this world – we both see it and take our influence on her very seriously. The way things have been I’m sure I’ll hit you with another, hopefully less depressing, blog next year. Until then…
(long, dramatic pause)
Goodbye everyone.
Nicholas
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