For the people who know me, the following admission will be yet another “Yep, that’s Matt…” moment: I couldn’t fucking decide which album’s version of this song to link.
No, I don’t mean “which version”. I mean: “Which album cover should appear when people see the embed?”.
Early Trax? Every Day is Halloween? Trax! Box? Toronto 1986?
It would be the very same song in each instance, but… Well… Shit like this matters to me. Sometimes I get hung up on inconsequential things and focus way too much time and energy into them. Most of the time, the payout is ridiculously minuscule. It /matters/ to me to get it /just right/. But for people who only see the end result, most often the reaction, after I tell them about what I just spent minutes or hours ‘perfecting’ is: “What difference would it have made?”
And, well, most of the time?
Not a single damn thing, for them.
But it matters to me.
When I work on something, stuff has to be just right. And I measure that in millimeters, seconds and tiny details. I will painstakingly re-create a logo I want to use if the only version I can find online is too low-res for me and it’s within my capability to create a better version. Even if I /know/ that nobody besides me would care. Or even notice.
And this happens in all creative efforts I engage in. Roleplaying campaign prep, writing, creating digital art, curating playlists…
Many, many moons ago… (Well, ok, maybe just 11 years.) …I actually took the favourite album of a dear friend and very, very carefully shaved seconds off of the “white space” between tracks so that at the end she was left with her favourite album, but about half a minute shorter if she’d listen to it from first to last track in one sitting.
Why? Because I once made an off-hand comment to her: “If I could, I’d give you more time as a gift.”. And so, in a roundabout way, I did. She’d save some time without losing anything from the experience of listening to her favourite album.
I made this comment, and I just HAD to follow through once I thought about that one thing. And then I went so far as to re-create the actual CD. I got high-res album cover and inlay copies, I sourced a printable file format copy of the CD art and I went for high quality paper. And then I assembled it, and she was left with a CD that was a near-perfect copy, just… About half a minute shorter.
At other times, I spend half an hour switching between various albums on Spotify to find the one that would provide the most “authentic” experience when embedded into a post that about 50 people max, world-wide, will end up reading. Ah, well.
Upsides and downsides to everything in life, right?
About today’s picture and song combination: They go hand in hand. As we’re just a day away from both Halloween and the end of this particular blogging adventure, I wanted to strongly and directly express something that’s dear to me:
The idea that people need to “normalize” with getting older needs to fucking /die/.
In a dumpster fire. A hot one.
There’s nothing wrong with retaining a sense of self and individuality after turning “adult”. (Whatever the fuck that even means nowadays.)
And fuck all the old, stuck up assholes complaining about younger people having dress styles, tattoos, piercings and hair styles and colours that don’t conform to their reactionary sensibilities.
A proud, violent, stiff middle finger to all of those.
And I just /love/ the fact that slowly but surely things are changing. People with non-mundane styles, wearing and showing them off obviously, are getting into more and more important and powerful positions.
This is one of those situations in which “fighting them from the inside” seems to be working. Let’ continue doing so.
Nobody should be forced to have to juggle two lives, two sides of themselves, in their day to day life because of the tender sensibilities of people unable to cope with changing societal mores and youth culture.
If I can deal with Snapchat, all those older than me can fucking deal with some ink, die and surgical steel.
Even Cradle of Filth fans, for example, are as good, if not better, teachers as the people who are braindead enough to like Pitbull. Why would you ever leave your children in the care of someone showcasing such blatant bad taste and judgment? *shakes head*