Reflections at 40

So in a few days as of writing this, I'll turn 40. As a preface to this, I'd like to point out to everyone that I fully realize my life is really pretty good. No seriously. It's really not a bad life! I have a beautiful daughter who is an absolute blast to watch as she grows and learns. I have a full-time job that pays decent benefits. (A definite good thing in today's economy!) A second child on the way, which I am very excited about. My wife is employed full-time also. (See previous parenthesis) She loves me. I love her dearly. We aren't rich, but we don't quite live hand to mouth either. I spend a LOT of time smiling when I think about Steph and Gwen and the little one to be named. Overall, things are very good. I have no real right to complain about much. So please take the rest of this in the spirit in which it is intended. A guy who's whining about turning 40 and is hoping for some sympathy/commiseration from others.

It seems like 40 is the age that people start looking back on their lives and evaluating it. I look back on my life thus far and can't help noting how very different it turned out from the life I imagined at 21.


I was 21 in 1991. By that fall I lived in a single room efficiency apartment in Middletown, OH. I had just started attending Miami University there. I really think now that I had very little interest in college. (It had taken me three years after graduating high school to even think about going) But most of my buddies were going there and easily acquired student loans seemed like a good way to keep from getting a BS corporate job in a cubicle somewhere. So, almost on a lark, I took the placement tests and was accepted. (Scored pretty highly too as I recall)

However, my real dream was to be a rockstar. Not just a guy who toured the world with his band and partied all the time. I wasn't into getting smashed and puking on stuff. (The endless parade of cute groupies, however, did hold a great deal of appeal!) No, I wanted to be a hard rock slash heavy metal "Artist!!" (pronounced 'arteest') My heroes then were (and still are) guys like Eddie Van Halen, Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, John Petrucci of Dream Theater and Ty Tabor from King's X.

I had played music since I was 13 and picked up electric guitar at 18. A late start for most virtuosos, to be sure, but I wasn't concerned! I played pretty much all the time. Literally. I skipped classes to sit in my apartment and work out a cover tune or write something original and record it on my 4-track tape deck.

I was going to form a rock band and make millions and be adored by all true music lovers everywhere. (Country and Rap be damned!!) My life would be filled with studios and stages and I would be surrounded by amps and guitars and keyboards and mics and spend all my time creating my art. Nothing else was important. (Certainly not grades or a paycheck in the meantime!!)

Of course, things didn't work out that way. Turns out that while I did and still do have a great passion for playing music, well, uh..... I'm really not all that good at it.

I mean I'm not the worst ever. I play decently. Well enough to impress folks who don't really pay close attention anyway. I just never studied my craft properly. I spent an inordinate amount of time with my guitar in my hands and me playing it, but I never figured out how to practice properly. I just did the same things over and over again. If I couldn't learn a more advanced technique in 5 minutes, screw it! A real rocker doesn't need to do that crap anyway!! Right?

Wrong. A quick listen to any Vai or Dream Theater tunes should prove that. As a result of my constant playing but non-practicing, at my best, I never progressed past the level of a modest classic rock cover band that plays your local bar a few times a year. Not cringe inducing, but nothing to write home about either.

I also had a real problem keeping a band together long enough to get to the level of actually playing in front of people. It just felt impossible to find 3 or 4 other people who were all on the same page together to get a band working. After a number of years, I just ran out of steam.

The dream never really died. I never reached a point where I said to myself, "This is a stupid idea! I'm not doing it anymore!" I kind of always felt like it was just "on the back burner" for a bit while I did stuff like, earn a living, pay off debts, get a car, get married, etc. But eventually, I'd get back into it and make a run for glory!!

Alas, years kept going by and I never really got back into. I made attempts, sure. Every so often I'd dig out my gear and plug everything in and play for a while. I got a few new pieces of gear every so often. My wife even got me a nice new guitar amp for my 34th. (She's pretty freaking cool if you ask me!) But I never managed to get back to the level I was playing at and I never found a way to get another band started again in a way that didn't mean a huge sacrifice on my wife's part. It's just unfair to her to expect her to take up all the slack in our life that would be created by me playing in a band. Things still need to get cleaned. The yard still needs mowed. Gwen needs attention paid to her. Etc.

Not to mention that I've actually come to like doing most of those things. (Except for cleaning! I only do that because I enjoy living in filth less than doing the cleaning.) I adore spending time with Gwen and just generally being a dad. It is awesome! And I wouldn't give up spending time with my wife for any amount of money.

To this day, I still try to find time to do my music. In the last couple years, I've even experienced something of a resurgence. I've bought some great new gear and found a lot of great software to go digital with. I can at least be that guy who sits at home and records by himself. I still believe that even with my mediocre playing abilities, I have a LOT of good music inside of me waiting to come out and be heard by the masses. (Or at least by the three or four folks who've listened to my ReverbNation page.)

But as Thursday Feb. 25, 2010 approaches, I have to admit the fact that I will never actually be a rockstar. And even though that isn't the end of the world, (or even really a bad thing) there is still a faint echo of the 21 year old kid with dreams of glory. And he is pretty sad about that.

The 40 year old guy will most likely get over it, kiss his wife and go have fun playing with his little girl.