I’m not naïve. At least I’d like to think I’m not.

Many years ago, I was involved in a variety of music projects. It was the early 2000s (1999.9), social media was young, and cell phones were just phones. A very different landscape of promotion, industry control, and production. The old ways of doing things were still breathing. The independent artist was a shadow of what it can be today.

And for me, it was the golden age of “I’m gonna make this f*cking work!” I just decided it was going to work. It will work, right!? Put in 150% and it will work.

I had abandoned my corporate job, went to recording school, and then found myself in LA working for nothing all over town on other people’s dreams. Wait, how the hell does that work? Well, kind of… it doesn’t. It’s exciting. You’re there. It’s tangible. A part of the buzz. Behind the magic… and behind the magic is ugly. Man, don’t get me wrong. It’s still hard now, but that… that was stupid.

Today, I still feel like I’m failing, but somehow succeeding at it in other ways. The first few months of this were really tough on me. In some ways, it was like reliving my parachute drop into LA. I hadn’t done social media for a long while (posting pictures of my cat—that’s what it’s for, right?). It was completely foreign to me. Thrust back into it in September for this new project, I gravitated toward what I knew about it, which wasn’t much.

One thing is clear: no one cares what you’re doing until you give them a reason to care. And I’m still figuring that out. Not that I aspire to be popular (the worst motivator, incidentally) or anything of the sort. But I don’t want to feel alone in all this. All this.

Okay, so what’s different this time? Attitude. Self-respect. A clear identity. And what I really care about. What it is that really makes me happy in music. Do that. And just keep doing that. And don’t let it be work.

I’m tough on myself sometimes. Patience? Not one of my qualities. I’m doing all the right things (I think) and it’s slow as hell. I had to decide I don’t give a f*ck—or rather, I’m giving the right kind of f*cks (thanks, Mark Manson).