The Future Has 24 Hours
Morning walks are good for your health, they always say; so I’m back at my routine. I always wanted to be a more ‘sporty’ person, but every time I started working out, I lost the willpower within a few weeks. Any way, this is a new day — and academic year, therefore: new goals. I started some visualization to help me sustain this impetus. The key for change is to get drunk in the idea of what you want; to think about it, picture it, put all the colours and flavours you wish: to desire it so badly, the body won’t resist but to sink in the pleasure of achieving the goal.
Pleasure is the key that opens all doors in your mind; and desire, what helps us not surrender.
I watched Whiplash (2014) yesterday morning, and at night, again. It was so good I can’t say anything about it but to suggest that you do yourself a favour and watch it. I recognize many of the feelings Andrew goes through, I understand every single decision he takes. It’s hard for me to feel identified with others or characters, so when it happens, I feel joy.
This morning during my walk I remembered the exact moment I decided to do music. The cool thing about working out is that the mind rests while it throws you some clear samples, like a PowerPoint of your conscience. It’s always good to move while formulating arguments about polemic topics — personal advice. Helps with perspective.
So, I was around 6 or 7, hiding in the T.V. room at my grandmother’s house while my elder cousins were watching MTV. My parents didn’t let me watch this channel, obvious it is why, but I couldn’t be bothered because of the lack of substance in their arguments and the always irrational judgments towards everything. I knew I shouldn’t see nude people or violence because I felt inside me that it was not right. I always followed my instinct because I felt every single thing kind of… ‘amplified’: in general terms, good feels calm; while wrong feels heated and uneasy. Music to me had nothing to do with the accessories. They didn’t get it, so as a kid I started living a double life, in my interior. I had to hide things in order to rescue my personality. There was a little space between the couch and the wall, and I would sneak after lunch and wait there. They would always close the door to the kids, so I anticipated. You may be born smart, but only difficulties make you ingenious. They would watch some shows that I hated; the lack of aesthetic in the cartoons was groundbreaking and produced in me a sensation similar to a stomach ache; but I had to wait, because when the commercials came up, so did the music videos. That’s how I discovered Christina Aguilera. She. I’ll speak about that another time. But the thing is that one Saturday, a commercial came up in between videos, and struck me to the bone and further. It showed a guy, working at a zoo, cleaning animal faeces all day long. You would see his discomfort but he would continue. At the end of the day, he gets paid and walks straight to a music shop to buy a guitar. As he walks out with his new case, words appear:
“Life without music is shit. Become aware.”
I could hear a metallic sound of something drastically moving inside me and one sigh gave me away. Mild tinnitus. I got kicked out of the T.V. room, I’d been discovered and so did my secret spot, but I couldn’t care less: It was at that moment that I realized I had to hide myself in order to be free. But that I could be free, because of music.
Two days ago, on the 7th, was the anniversary of my grandfather’s passing. One year ago, just when I came back ‘home’ to visit, the day I went to see him. He was waiting for me and we could say goodbye. Kiko was one of the very few people to whom I didn’t need to hide stuff. A misunderstood, unapologetic sort of musician… Like me.
