Tuesday, October 4, 2011

That Hurt

               When I was young, I was what my parents wanted me to be.  They decided I should learn to play the clarinet.  I made noise with all my grade school classmates in band class.  My grandfather was a professional musician and gave up on my tone quality saying it was contaminating his ear drums.  Folks should have bought me a guitar. 
               As a young adult, I decided to be who I thought I wanted to be.  I rose fast as a restaurant employee in the kitchen, from dishwasher to head cook.  This was an upscale dinner house and I cooked a hundred meals an hour every night.  Made it clear to the bosses I wanted to learn to bartend, but they never gave me the chance. 
               In my thirties, I became what everyone else expected me to be, a good father, provider, protector of the fort.  When I had some spare time, I took up painting with water color.  I got a primitive set-up, nothing fancy.  Sat on the hill in my backyard and painted my sanctuary.  The green grass, the house with all the shadows of the siding, the shake roof, my new deck came out fantastic for the brushes I had.  I painted the sky and treetops I could see in the front yard above the roof’s peak.  I was a bit disappointed with the angle I had of the hot tub, but other than that, I had captured the essence.  A sister-in-law saw my painting and innocently asked if one of my small children had painted it. 
               Now in my fifties, I am becoming who I was meant to be, a creative soul.  Getting too old to play stupid games with people and their rules.  I am learning to speak my mind and let my imagination soar.  I don’t need to blow through a woodwind to make a quality tone, don’t need to be a bartender to come up with stories, I can paint pictures with words my sister-in-law can’t even pronounce.  Foolishly, I shared a story recently with what I thought was an open minded friend.  Offended, they didn’t even bother reading it all.  It was meant to be read for what it was, creative writing.  My feelings were bruised by the response and I will recover, not sure our friendship will and that hurts.
               We all know what sticks and stones can do.  Take care, there are actions and words that hurt too.


  1. I loved reading about your journey to "now". AND about your hidden talents!! Cooking and painting eh? I think you should give painting another try sometime!! People can be so cruel and thoughtless---I hope your bruises are starting to disappear already!!

  2. You are a very creative soul Glenn! So cool to read about your different creative endeavors. Music, cooking, painting, writing. Oh what fun!!! Forget the naysayers. Do it all with gusto. The only outcome you need to have is the outcome of pure pleasure and creative freedom. Kudos to you for getting back on the creative horse and trying again.

    I'm sorry your friendship has been affected. Perhaps it's not the friendship you thought it was. Perhaps there are issues on the other end you are unaware of. Perhaps the universe knew you needed the test. Not only have you passed the test, you may have inadvertently extinguished a relationship that was not beneficial to your creative expression. I'm sorry it hurts. Perhaps it's a good hurt. A lesson learned. Like a child receiving a burn on a stove. Now you know.

    I'm one of those "want everyone to love me" people. I know not everyone does. The older I get, the less I care. It's quite liberating really! Liberate yourself with me!!!

    p.s. good last statement. true that!

  3. I didn't mean for my words to hurt and they weren't written for me to get hurt either.

    Liberation ideed! I refuse to pretend to fit the mold others try to restrict me in.

  4. You have all expressed exactly how I feel. I don't know how or when I got to feel this way. I have to think about that.

  5. April, it doesn't matter how you got here. Just be grateful you feel the way you do.

  6. Soar on, Glenn! And paint and cook and play music...

  7. Write....and let any other form of creativity that wants to come out follow.
    You have the talent.
    And if you ever get the hankering to watercolor again, let me know.
    I'll send you a couple of brushes!
    Sometimes the sad price of creativity are the words of the completely clueless....which seem to be the majority of the populace.
    I'll shut up before I offend.


  8. I can't say more than the others. You were meant to soar and better late than never. No need to let shallow comments keep you shackled to the ground.

  9. thanks for sharing you Glen...I enjoyed hearing more about your pass.