Elitist Club

It's an incredible feeling to know that the music genre you love is run by humble individuals. The band members casually walk by you at shows, the main medium of hardcore music, other than the internet. You can say hi to the members and run the risk of embarrassing yourself, or you can keep to yourself. When you first get into hardcore, and go to a couple of shows, it starts to consume every aspect of your life. Maybe you're not one for lyrics and ideologies, but the genre still has a significant impact on your life. You're part of an elitist club now. Maybe you're an extrovert and these shows are just a fun social activity of your week, no different from any other night of your people-orientated week. But if you're an introvert who has dealt with constant rejection in your life, you feel as if you're finally part of a social group. You feel accepted in your new community.
When you go home after a show, you listen to the bands' albums and sit in your room in awe. You feel so blessed you've had so many flawless albums come into your life in such a short period of time. The next morning, your real life hits you square in the face. You try to tell your coworkers or classmates how perfect your night was, but they simply just don't understand. They aren't part of your elitist club; they really aren't worthy of your time. You've tried countless times to show them your music. But unfortunately, you can only show them about 20% of your music. The rest is too abrasive to even suggest.
Your "unworthy" friends ask you to hang out. Ideally, you'd want to hang out with the friends in your elitist club, but you haven't realized that you don't have any friends in your club. You had a few small conversations, but these people probably live an hour away. Heck, you don't even know where they live. You agree to hang out with your other friends. You wan't to sit in your room and listen to hardcore albums on repeat, but you decide that it probably isn't that great for your mental health. You go out with your friends while they'll play the radio. You now the radio shouldn't aggravate you this much but the annoying electronic beats are just really pissing you off. Your friends pass around a bowl and after a few grams you realize, "This isn't me. I don't enjoy this. I want better friends." In your alternate state of mind, you imagine yourself in a small cottage covered in grass. While sitting in this cottage, you are surrounded by the "scene". Everyone is sitting around a fire chanting whatever song they're chanting. Time doesn't exist in that moment. Everyone in the room is connected infinitely and is screaming in rejoice.
But this meditation doesn't really exist. Sure you're supporting an underground endeavor when your purchase concert tickets and band merchandise. Sure there's a lot of other people who feel the exact same way as you do, but they are spread across this very large planet. You won't ever meet a fraction of these people in your life.
These are usually the first two stages of your involvement in this scene. I'm not sure how many stages there are, because I've only made it to the third and fourth.
The third is the most tragic stage you'll go through. You finally to decide to drop all of your social anxieties and branch out. Starting conversation is a pretty easy strategy. You seek out the most extrovert person and start some small talk. Actually that's a lie. You go outside and wait for someone to bum a cigarette off you. It's not hard to find someone who needs a cigarette. Everyone at that show smokes. Maybe they aren't addicted like you, but they smoke socially at shows for sure. No one is "straight-edge" anymore. There isn't much awkward silence. You just talk about that last record that came out. How did it compare to the bands prior release? How much did the band progress? Did they sell out? What other bands do you think they drew influence from? When was the last time you saw that band? Dude, I was at the show too? What did you think of the opening band? etc. etc. Chances are you're both annoying the shit out of each other. But you keep talking because you're both desperate for friends. It's similar to those awkward encounters with other college freshman in your dorm. But this is totally different. You don't want to make shallow friends with this person bumming cigarettes off of you because you're afraid of being alone for your four years at college. You're scared of being "weeded" out of the hardcore scene. You're scared of being weeded out because you failed to make any lasting friendships and won't be able to go on a road trip when you're 40 years old listening to every hardcore album ever made. The scene will die at some point. It's legacy will live on for sure, but you won't have a connection to the next generation of bands. You can't go in a mosh pit with other 19 year olds when you're 40. It's so hard to find people that like this music and this re-entry section of the music venue is your only chance. You've worn a band t-shirt every day for two years and no one has ever said, "I like your shirt". This is your only chance.
After a few awkward encounters with the same person, you decide to tell yourself that they are your friend. You never hang out with them, but telling yourself that you've made a friend helps you sleep at night.
You get invited to a local show on facebook. You've heard of this small band with less than 1000 likes before, and you think they're a pretty solid band, but you haven't really gotten into them. It's a Tuesday night and you've got nothing else better to do, so you drag your friend along and pay 5 bucks. Suddenly the band starts and it hits you. Everyone else knows each other. You don't know the words and you're sticking out like a sore thumb. You aren't part of this club. You've been trying to be a part of something and you've just realized you've been wasting your energy. No one knows you. No one wants to know you.
So what are you gonna do? Get a real job, stop going to shows and be the hero that your father was. No not really. Just don't take music so seriously. Have some fun. Just take a look at what's beneath your feet and go ahead and part that sea between brightness and me because give suburbia your all until you're nothing. Don't try to hard to make friends. If you don't meet any just get in your car and blast your favorite records and scream them and make sure everyone on the road knows that you're a crazy psychopath.

Freshman Year (Part Two)

I might repeat stuff and leave stuff out from my last post but I don't really care about accuracy; I just want to write. My second semester was the hardest few months of my life. I still don't consider this era of my life over. I haven't been happy since August.
Here's the issue: I can't take a break. I'm 19 years old. The top priority of people my age is to make friends and have fun. As I'm writing this, I'm being reminded of one of my strengths.
Efficiency and Speed: Working in a restaurant for five years, you are forced to do everything as fast as possible without fucking up. This semester, I didn't spend much time on homework. When I did homework, I did it as quickly as possible without getting distracted. It's easy to focus on all five of your math classes when you love math. If I didn't understand something, I don't give up. I try to figure it out quickly. There were a few things I struggled with this semester but I decided to utilize my teachers' office hours.
Anyways, my success this semester would not have happened with this strength. I commuted back home every week and worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, 6:45-2:45. I pulled off a 3.188 GPA while working 24 hours a week and taking five math classes. I already have all the requirements for a math minor and I'm halfway done with my math credits. I have a $7,000 car that's completely paid off, $4,000 in savings, and I pay for all my own shit. I only make $2.63 but I haven't even cashed a paycheck since September. I don't even know how much I have in checks, probably $1000; my employer doesn't deduct taxes for some reason. I've also paid $3,000 dollars out of pocket for college and right now, I'm only $5,500 in debt with student loans. I also lost $3,500 on an old car I had. I work my ass off and I deserve every twenty dollar bill I fucking have. I spend a lot of money and just signed up for a credit card. I have a $700 credit card that I'll probably max out by next week. My credit score is going to be through the roof next year and my credit limit will skyrocket.
So right now, I'm working four days a week, and studying for the next actuarial exam: MFE/3F. I don't actually want to work four days a week though. I'm getting tired of being a server. I also need more time to study and enjoy myself. I think about quitting everyday. I can't take that place seriously anymore. My boss is crazy, I'm sick of dumb customers, I don't always get along with my co-workers, and I can't stand the fucking radio.
My music taste has changed a bit since high school. I always liked hardcore, but now I can't even listen to mellower stuff, except Balance and Composure, The Menzingers, and Turnover. All I listen to is Counterparts, Pianos Become The Teeth, and Defeater. It's pretty depressing music and it's great to listen to when you're depressed. I don't think I'm actually depressed though; my anxiety has just never been this bad before.
It's safe to say that this is the first year of my life I've had legitimate panic attacks. I've always had some sort of agoraphobia and general anxiety, but nothing this bad. This is also the first year I've had a "normal life". I don't have the time for any personal projects, movies or video games, which are actually some hobbies of mine. My entire week is consumed by either work or academics. Nothing wrong with that, but it's definitely stressful. I wonder if my panic attacks are brought on by over thinking. I think a lot to begin with.
Every time I drive my car, my check engine light is just seconds away from coming on. On the highway, I'm going to swerve because my car shakes in the wind and I need new steering links. Every day I'm worried about getting a panic attack.

Freshman Year (Part One)

I just finished my freshman year. It was quite a shitty experience honestly. The only good things that happened were completely unrelated to the school. Before I left for college I had a pretty clear expectation of how it would play out. I imagined myself skipping class a lot but doing well in my classes. I knew I wouldn't have a major change in my life. I knew that I was going to come home every weekend to work. Despite all of these expectations, I was prepared to be pleasantly surprised. I was wrong. College has taken up all of my thoughts and I'm ready to be done with it. That is why I'm trying to graduate early. I ended up moving into a dorm right next to this annoying cunt named Charlotte. She kept me up every night talking pretty loudly. I couldn't figure out any benefits to being present there. My schedule was somewhat lame. I had five classes. Multivariable Calculus was pretty easy. I was really good at calculus. Probability was hard. My biology elective, Insects and Human Society was a huge waste of my time and my money. It was an easy A, but I still got a C+. I put absolutely no effort in that class. College Writing wasn't bad. I didn't learn how to write. I just listened to my teacher talk about the Daily Show or something like that. My Java course was 100% online so I obviously went to class never.
I had a rough time in my mind. I couldn't understand why I was paying so much money to learn useless knowledge, especially since I was capable of teaching myself everything. I actually was teaching myself everything. I was hated the dorm I was paying 2k a semester for. It was so loud and I could never sleep. Then I realized I was living alone and could basically smoke pot whenever I wanted to. I also decreased my Seroquel from 100mg to 50mg. A doctor out there suggested that I lower my Seroquel and take Xanax as needed. Things were going okay. I got a new car in October. It's a 1999 Toyota Camry and it doesn't break down randomly like the old Subaru. Despite this, my anxiety is worse so I'm more scared to drive.
Like I said, things were okay until one night, December 9th. I had a few hits of weed and watched mean girls. I went downstairs to go to sleep and couldn't get comfortable in my bed. I was getting very nervous and realized I was just having a bad high. I had them before and knew I could get through it. I had that prescription of Xanax and decided to take one. I felt as if I had to go to bathroom. Nothing came out. I stood up and my hands were shaking, and then my heart fell into my stomach. Something wasn't right. I entered my mom's room and told her I couldn't stop shaking. She got up to get the telephone and I laid down in her bed. I began to shake uncontrollably. I clenched my teeth into the blanket fearing my chattering teeth would pierce into each other. She called for the ambulance.
I felt like a lunatic in the ER. I couldn't stop screaming or shaking. I was desperate for something to calm me down. They gave me Valium and I came back to reality. I cried for awhile and then fell back asleep. I managed to get through finals the next week, and study for exam P all of winter break.
I'm a math major, with a concentration in actuarial science. To work as an actuary, you have pass a series of off-campus exams. I was having a rough time over winter break and didn't really want to leave my house. I thought my ER fiasco was related to the Seroquel so I came off. I got really anxious and agoraphobic. Fortunately, this worked to my advantage. I studied very hard for P and passed on January 16th. I passed the first actuarial exam at age 18. When I passed, I wasn't really proud of myself, just relieved. It wasn't long before school started again. I signed up for Linear Algebra, Differential Equations, Fundamental Concepts of Math, Math of Finance, and Statistics II.