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Monday, 16 January 2017

Whiskey Lullaby

"Next round's on me, guys" Jared said, already heading towards the bar counter.
"Damn right it is, bitch... last round you got us was back in our freshman year" Quipped Sam with a smirk.
"Oh, blow me" Replied Jared irritably.
"Don't mind if I do" said Emily with a sly wink to a chorus of rowdy hoots and catcalls...

It was going to be a good summer.

After weeks of all-nighters and a strict Ramen noodles and Redbull diet, finals week was over and he was finally looking at a full 3 months of non-stop partying and gaming without a constant feeling of guilt because he wasn't studying for an exam or writing a paper for a course... and to kick it off, Jared and his friends had decided to get some drinks at their usual bar. Curiously enough, although their original plan was to get completely hammered and wake up with vicious hangovers and no memory of the night before, when they'd reached the bar they realized that they were far too tired for hard liquor and instead decided on having a few beers and turning in early. They had the whole summer, after all... there was no rush.

It being a Tuesday evening, the bar was almost empty. As far as he could see, there were only two men at the pool table; a kissy couple who seemed to be transitioning from second to third base and a fidgety middle-aged blonde woman who seemed to be nervously waiting for someone but who kept stealing glances at a well-dressed man sitting alone by the bar; whose formal attire made it seem oddly obscene that he should be drinking on a Tuesday night rather than sitting at a negotiating table somewhere, or shouting at a subordinate or poor person.

The bartender was a pretty girl who looked to be in her early 20s. Her wavy brown hair cascaded elegantly in an artful tumble over her collarbone and down almost to her tiny waist, and her black, low-cut tank top emphasized firm, shapely breasts which he couldn't help noticing even in the dim yellow light. He briefly considered flirting with her until he noticed that her green eyes were fixed on the same young man at the bar, almost as if she were trying to catch his eye. As he drew close, she shifted her gaze to him with a forced smile.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

"I'd like 4 Coronas, 2 Blue Moons and a Guinness, please"

"Coming right up!"

As she went to get the beers, he started fumbling for his wallet but he couldn't find it, and after several seconds of vigorously frisking himself he was forced to accept that maybe he'd left it in his jacket pocket back at their table. The handsome young man was looking at him, his eyes twinkling with dry amusement.

"Lost your wallet somewhere?" He asked with a smile. If he'd had to guess his age, Jared would have guessed mid to late 20s.

"I must have left it back at the table" Jared replied with an exasperated shake of his head. "I'll go get it". He was turning back when he heard the man say "don't worry about it, I've got this- hey sweetie, put it on my tab"

He imagined a bartender as pretty as her must hear similar comments all the time, so he expected her to snap back at the man or at the very least give him a cold look... but what he didn't expect was that the girl would blush bright pink and murmur "sure!" while twirling her hair. Damn, that guy was good! All the same, he wasn't about to lose a gallantry fight in front of the girl, so he had to at least try to turn the man down.

"I can't accept this- hang on, I'll get my wallet" He said aloud, but making no move back towards his table.

"Don't worry about it, man. Enjoy!" He said, raising his scotch glass in a toasting gesture.

"I swear I have money, there's no need! I'll run back and get it" Jared said, inwardly hoping he'd insist. Money was tight and free beer was free beer.

"I'll tell you what, have a drink with me and we're even. Fair enough?"

Jared was checking out the bartender again who was still staring at the man and evidently in the midst of a wild 50 shades of grey-esque fantasy. Any man who could do that to a girl that pretty deserved a drinking partner.

"Deal. I'll just go give these beers to the guys and be right back"

He took the beers to their table, and after a quick "be right back", he went back to the man who seemed unusually interested in the wall opposite his face in spite of the bartender's obvious interest in him.

"Dude this girl is into you, you should ask for her number" Jared murmured to the man as he seated himself on the stool next to him.

The man replied "Not interested" with a bored, dismissive yawn.

It figures, Jared thought. Someone like him probably got all the girls he wanted without even trying. Everything about him screamed "rich"; his black suit was visibly expensive and obviously tailored since it seemed to perfectly complement his tall frame and muscular build, and he didn't even want to think how much his golden Rolex must have cost. Even his face had an air of regal nobility about it; from his slicked and side swept black hair to his tightly cropped reddish brown beard which emphasized his square jaw and prominent jawline. His cheekbones were so high they jutted out from directly under his sparkling blue eyes, and his teeth were so white and perfect they made Jared's look like he'd just walked out of a boxing match with Mike Tyson.

"So how come you're here on a Tuesday night? Don't you have work tomorrow or something?" Jared asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

The man gave him a warm smile that didn't quite reach his sad blue eyes. "I'm celebrating! It's the seven year anniversary of my marriage"

"Oh, you're married! I'd have never thought... so your wife is here?"

"No we've always had this tradition where I'd get drunk and go home late after she'd gone to bed"

"I see. Trouble at home, Mr. ...?"

"Ted" Answered the man, extending his hand and curtly shaking Jared's. His grip was firm and business-like.

"Jared"

"Nice to meet you, Jared... and yes, I'm not exactly on great terms with my wife"

"What happened?"

A pained expression flashed across Ted's face for a split second, only to vanish without a trace as it returned to its previous look of bored elegance. He gestured for the bartender to bring him another scotch as he pondered the question, evidently having an inner struggle of some sort.

"Sure you want to hear this?" Asked Ted, his gaze still fixed on the wall in front of him.

Jared was almost sure he did not. He felt like he was intruding on the man's private moment, but Ted clearly needed to talk to someone and it didn't seem right that he should leave him. Besides, he had paid for the beers... Jared was in his debt.

"I'm all ears" Jared replied dutifully.

Ted didn't respond at once. He didn't look at all like he wanted to talk about it either, but after a few awkward seconds had passed he reluctantly muttered "she cheated on me".

The silence stretched on for what seemed like years. Jared knew he had to say something, but how do you console a half-drunk man whose name you'd only learned a few minutes ago? He was just about to make some sympathetic noises when Ted continued in a flat voice:

"I love her. I really do... that's what hurts, Jared. I gave her everything she wanted, everything I had, everything I am... but it wasn't enough for her. I love her, and she cheated on me, and I still love her, and isn't that just pathetic?" His speech was slurred, but he spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, like he'd had sufficient time to process her betrayal. Jared guessed it must have happened quite some time ago.

"How long ago?" Jared asked as Ted emptied another scotch glass in one gulp and asked for another.

"Months, years, decades... who cares? The important part is that it happened... and you know? I used to blame myself. Doesn't that just make you want to punch me in the face? She cheated on me, and the first thing I thought of was that it was somehow my fault. But you know what? It really wasn't. I was right there with her through thick and thin. I remembered all the events and the anniversaries, I spoiled her with gifts and traveled everywhere with her, I wrote songs about her, I nursed her back to health when she got sick, I turned down a great job offer to stay in town because she didn't want to move. Can you believe that? I lost the opportunity of my life for her sake, and the irony is that it turned out that the reason she didn't want to move was because her lover lives here. I ruined my career so she could get to cheat on me some more. How the hell is it my fault?" He finished with a sour laugh.

"Of course it's not your fault... but why are you still with her, then?" Jared asked, involuntarily empathizing with Ted and hating his wife.

Ted grunted and continued as if he hadn't heard anything:

"The next few years were tough. I didn't file for divorce, because I think a small part of me always expected us to make up eventually... but I left town. I took a job abroad and I threw myself into my career, and life was fine for a while... I made some friends, traveled the world and tried to convince myself that my random hook-ups meant that I was over her. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and I did something I hadn't done in years- I checked her Facebook profile. It was the worst thing I could have done, Jared. She was happy. I was miserable and in all that pain, while she was dating someone else and not thinking about me at all. That was rock bottom for me, you know? I started drinking, neglecting my job... almost got myself fired. I hated myself for not being enough for her. Maybe it really was my fault... maybe I just wasn't good enough."

At that point, Ted must have had at least 5 scotches since they'd started talking... and Jared guessed he must have had a few drinks before. He caught the bartender's eye, inclined his head ever so slightly towards Ted, and then lightly shook it. The meaning was clear; no more drinks for this guy.

"Come on man, don't say that. That girl over there is practically sleeping with you in her head... your wife just didn't know what she had."

"Well she realized it later. When I saw her happy like that, I decided to be happy too. I stopped thinking about her at all. I began enjoying my life, and even started dating again. Life was looking up for me... and that was when she started trying to reach me. It was like a blitzkrieg; social media, phone calls, common friends, you name it. She even called me at work claiming to be a client once. But I was having none of it... My life was finally good again. I was over her. She could grovel after me for years but I was rock-solid... I'd show her what a grave mistake she'd made." He was so bitter, Jared could almost smell it.

"And then what happened?"

That was when a single, solitary tear rolled down Ted's face. He looked away, evidently furious with himself, wiped the tear away with a gracefully fluid motion you could have missed if you'd blinked, and continued with a completely expressionless face as if nothing had happened:

"She tried to get in touch with me for 2 whole years. Would I be a horrible person if I told you I enjoyed that? I enjoyed putting her through that pain. There, I said it. I figured she deserved it. It was my way of exacting petty revenge on her, and I think I was successful for a time. But then something terrible happened... she stopped. For a while, I pretended like I didn't care for the sake of my ego... but as weeks stretched into months, I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong... something was terribly wrong. When I checked her social media, her life seemed to have frozen a few months earlier. She didn't answer any of her phone numbers. For some unknown reason, I started panicking. I took the first flight home and came back to town. That was yesterday."

Jared tensed. Ted's story was approaching its climax.

"Turns out my wife had been diagnosed with late-stage cancer. She was trying to reach me for all these years because she wanted to make amends, apologize and tell me she loved me one last time... but I didn't make it in time to see her before she passed away." Ted's voice cracked as he tried to control himself. "I was so fixated on hurting her that I never heard her last words... they were screamed at me by her tearful mother at her funeral procession today, which I had barely arrived here in time for."

It suddenly made sense why Ted was wearing a black suit and drinking on a Tuesday night. Although his face was completely void of expression, tears were streaming freely into his beard now, and he made no move to wipe or hide them as Jared sat there frozen to his seat, with no idea what to say.

"You don't have to say anything, Jared. There's nothing to say. I love her, and she's gone, and we never made up. I never forgave her... never talked to her. I wanted to deny her closure... but you know what's funny? I didn't get any closure either... and now I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life. I know what she did was unforgivable, but why couldn't I have just talked to her? Why couldn't I have just ended things like an adult once and for all?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Jared decided to break it.

"OK, Try not to think about that now... what about all the good times? You must have been happy with her at some point, right?"

Surprisingly, Ted's lips curled upwards ever so slightly- the closest he could get to smiling, Jared guessed. "We were. It was like something out of a movie... we were inseparable. She had this thing where she was always getting super excited about things and then changing her mind about them days later -weeks if she's persistent. One day she's a painter, then she's a pianist, then she's really into football, then she's a painter again, you get the gist. I remember one time when she decided to be a cook, and tried to make us dinner. It was the worst thing I'd ever eaten in my life, somehow both under-cooked and burned at the same time- I think it was chicken, but I can't be sure. Anyway, it was only our fourth month as a married couple and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I tried to force it down and pretend it was delicious, and she sat there staring at me with her mouth wide open, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing... then she started laughing so hard, she fell out of her chair. Turns out she literally ruined it on purpose to see how far I'd go to pretend to like her cooking. From then on, we agreed that I'd always give her my real opinion on everything she did." Ted gave a snort. "No wonder she slept with someone else, huh?" He laughed, and Jared deemed it safe to nervously chortle along. He was starting to feel relieved that Ted seemed to be in better shape, but one look at his face told him that they were back to square one.

Ted must have read his mind.

"Nice try, Jared... I appreciate the effort, but it would take more than some nostalgia to get me over this one. This is the sort of thing that breaks you for life, there's no happy ending for me... but do me a favor, will you? You can't save me, but you can save yourself... don't make the same mistake. If there's someone you love, hold onto them as hard as you can, and when you can't hold on any longer, for the love of God, END IT or it will end you... as it did me."

Ted took out a wad of hundreds from his pocket, and drunkenly slammed them down on the counter top in front of him... it was at least twenty times more than what he'd owed.

"Thanks again for listening to me. All your drinks are on me tonight... and leave a generous tip for the bartender" Ted got up and staggered towards the door with surprising speed. Jared hurried after him, stumbling over his stool in his haste and crashing to the floor.

"Where are you going, man? You can't be alone like this!" Jared said to Ted's back as he struggled to catch up with him.

"You've done all you can, Jared. I'll be alright" Ted replied without turning around.

"At least let me call you a cab" A sense of dread took hold of him as he quickened his pace to a jog.

"They don't need cabs in hell" Ted said as he pushed himself outside the door, pulling out something from his pocket which had the gleam of metal.

Jared was running now. He had to reach the door. He had to stop him.

A few people outside the bar screamed. There was a gunshot.

He was too late.

They found a note in his pocket:

"It was all my fault"

Wednesday, 4 January 2017

Talent ≠ Creativity

I've wanted to discuss for a while so I'll jump right to it...

We often mistake talent for creativity, but they are two very different things. There are 3 main factors that determine any artist's success; creativity, talent and hard work... but let's disregard hard work for now because it's not the point of this post... and again, you're going to have to forgive me for the business metaphors I seem to favor more and more as I slide deeper into a career in finance, but bear with me here; a talented person is a person who is able to package their product in an attractive way which appeals to the consumer and makes them "buy" it, regardless of the content... in other words, they are the "Apple" of artists.

Picture an author who can make an international best-seller out of a middle aged housewife's sex dreams (I'm looking at you, Twilight's Stephenie Meyer); or one of the dime-a-dozen "pop-stars" -such as Justin Bieber or Rhianna- who can be reliably counted upon to create hit songs on a regular basis with lyrics a hungover 5 year old could write with their eyes closed and very basic music -if you can even call it that. In such cases, the actual content seems almost irrelevant if it's packaged well enough; Stephenie knew how to write books to appeal to a wide demographic of aging, bored housewives with unfulfilled fantasies, and Bieber's combo of genuine musical talent and boyish good looks won him massive appeal with pubescent teenage girls. However, considering their frankly disproportionate success with such embarrassingly bad content (baby, baby, baby, oh), it's fairly obvious that even though they're talented artists, they are most certainly not creative.

Creativity is completely different; creativity is getting out of bed at 3 in the morning because you just had an amazing idea for a book that you had to write down so you don't forget it come morning; creativity is when you lock yourself at home for days because you have an idea for a song in your head and you physically can't bring yourself to enjoy anything else until you've perfected it; creativity is when you can picture a beautiful scene in your mind's eye and it's all you can do to paint it before it fades away...

But here's the hiccup; talent and creativity don't always overlap. When they do, we get the greats like Jimmi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Van Gogh, J.R.R Tolkien or Steven Spielberg; in all of these examples, the artist is both creative enough to come up with amazing ideas and talented enough to execute them perfectly and present them to us as clearly as if we could see into their mind. In such cases, humanity is blessed that these individuals had both traits aplenty... but can you imagine what would have happened if genre-defining giants like The Beatles weren't very good at playing their music and couldn't get a record deal? Their art might have never reached us and the world would have been that much darker for it.

That might have been how A Song of Ice and Fire ended up (or Game of Thrones as you might know it), if George Martin hadn't been incredibly lucky.

You see, George Martin had amazing content, but he simply isn't that good a writer. The qualities that make him such a brilliant world builder are also the same qualities that make him a mediocre writer; he can't control his thought process or guide it in a certain direction... he simply allows his mind to wander and take him where it would, which results in very vivid descriptions in his books -usually of food and sex scenes, but I digress- and all the intrigues and subplots we've grown to love so much about the series, but it also makes him lose sight of the over-arching story-line and get completely side-tracked, and left unchecked, this has resulted in what was originally supposed to be a trilogy spiraling out of control into a 3000+ page behemoth of a series that intimidates all but the most invested fans.

The point is that George Martin's mediocre talent almost cost us something as wildly popular as A Song of Ice and Fire... and he's an OK writer. What would have happened if the idea for the series had come to a construction worker of no literary talent whatsoever who just shrugged it off or tried to write it down but simply wasn't good enough a writer to do it?

Here I am finally arriving to my key message; it's truly a tragedy when creativity and talent don't coincide. All the artists on the other side of the Justin Bieber coin must endure constant frustration; the feeling of being constrained and chained down when your mind is soaring through colorful skies and realms of surreal beauty is more painful that you might imagine... like being gagged and tied down (and not the sexy kind), or wearing a strait-jacket every day of your life. You're on a boat in a vast ocean of ideas and possibilities in the midst of the raging storm that is your fury at your own limitations.

I count myself among that unlucky number. What small measure of talent I've been blessed with at writing and creating music is not nearly enough to keep up with my creativity, and it can often feel very suffocating as I try to find some way to express a thought or a feeling... and that is precisely what I wanted to direct your attention to; never confuse talent for creativity. A talented artist can swindle your senses and sell you the artistic equivalent of a fish and custard cream pie and have you asking for seconds; while an insufficiently talented creative person could be bursting at the seams with artistic genius... which you and everyone else in the world would appreciate IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE IT TOO... but sadly you never will, because they're unable to express it.

How many Stairways To Heaven and Comfortably Numbs have we lost? How many would-be Mozarts? The answer is too many.

One of humanity's greatest tragic ironies is an untapped creative mind.