It was the weirdest experience I've had in a long while, and I have had some pretty weird ones. I went for a night out on the town, which in Tulsa on a Tuesday night means going to a local coffee house's open mic night. I had no idea what to expect, but I followed my friend inside a dimly lit coffee house (mood lighting for good feelings), and nearly every table and couch was filled with interesting characters all here to share their thoughts and songs, supporting the arts. So, without knowing how this was going to go down, I got myself a mocha and a cinnamon crumb cupcake and sat down with my friend at the only available table, spitting distance from the mic itself.
Things then started, beginning with a boy who wrote a poem about love and the sadness of losing the girl. Touching, but it seemed a little extreme. Maybe it reminded me of my angst-filled poems from high school about unrequited love, which we all know was not love at all. Then there were several musicians, some pitchy, some playing weird instruments that they really didn't seem to know how to play, and it ranged from a young man trying to be Elvis, to a country artist, to a guy who seemed to be going for an old school rocker, but really was just singing in a gravely voice way too loudly (while his guitar skills were fairly impressive to say the least).
So what is this supposed to mean? I recently finished a novel by John Green called An Abundance of Kathrines, which all you need to know is that the main character, Collin, just wants to matter. Collin was a child prodigy, but fears he won't grow up to become a genius now that he's graduated high school. I feel perhaps I have this same fear. I am by no means a prodigy at anything, but I just want to find some way to matter. I have this constant fear that I am simply mediocre at everything, and will never be wonderful at anything. I fear I am nothing but average.
Then I go to this open mic night, and have to hide a few laughs at what was sometimes being performed, and I thought, with the wretchedness that is humanity, that at least I am not that. But even the fact that these people, while maybe not close at all to being prodigies in music or comedy or poetry, are at least trying. They put themselves out there in a way that strikes me with so much fear. I am the person who will literally strive to be second at something, vice-president of a club or class instead of president, doing backstage work instead of being onstage during shows.
Maybe I can learn a lesson from the kid with dreadlocks and a weird, green, metal thing that looked like a ufo, but he called a drum. I had no idea what he was talking about, and his poems reminded me of a version of myself from ninth grade, who was trying to figure out who I was in this new pool in life known a high school. Even he, who baffled me so much, was a traveller and lover of things, and was doing exactly what he loves, and sharing it with people who were very receptive of that kind of love. This guy, one of the most outrageous, was at least working towards something I would be too afraid of doing. In John Green's novel, Collin believes he was a prodigy, but also admits that it is only through handwork that he is able to do the things he is able to do.
So what all of this means is not to be obsoletely crazy, but at the same time fear should not be so crippling. If you want to do something, then what the heck, go for it. Be Troy Bolton from High School Musical, and sing at karaoke night, and then get the lead for the musical (or, you know, be ambitious enough to at least try to get it). We live in a world that is so concerned with safety and social expectations that we are losing the drive to be more. Even the Beatles were rejected and had to work for an extremely long time, singing in local bars and what not, before they were even recognized as being something more than just a band of guys with a hopeful wish. So, be the kid with dreadlocks, or Troy Bolton, or The Beatles. Just pick something you love and just do it (after all, if Nike says it it must have some worth to it). If you are going to matter to the world, or anyone at all, you have to first matter to yourself. Take the time and energy to make an investment in what you can do and what you will do. Maybe writing poetry full of angst is the first step to writing poetry like Frost. Only time will tell, and only if you put your time into it.
