I’ve talked about the duality between “Spiffy” and “Sean” in the past, and I think last night gave me a moment of Jager-fueled clarity. Yeah, this column is about me.

Recently I’ve been talking a lot about how the perception can be spun to suit the situation. If a TV station wants higher ratings, they lead with the story that they know appeals to the widest demographic – sometimes even if it has to be sensationalized and almost manufactured not in the vein of journalistic integrity, but instead with money and ratings as the motivating factor.

Which of these guys would you rather date your daughter:

1 – A business owner working on a PhD who owns his house, has a nice car, and comes from a good family?

2 – Some guy in a band who spends his weekends sweaty, fat, drunk, and stupid dancing on top of bars and chugging entire bottles of Jager?

… What if they were the same guy?

A lot of people aren’t comfortable with the fact that I don’t have a “real” job. To them, a “real” job means something that you have to show up every day for, on a schedule, with a boss, and wearing pants.

I just decided that none of that interests me.

“You’ll never become the man if you are working for the man.” – SSS

Playmakers last night

Playmakers last night

People often ask me why I do what I do, and last night it kind of all came together for me. First off, I had one of the most fun weekends of shows that I’ve had in the 4 years that Walk of Shame has been playing music. The vibe is good, the shows have been getting increasingly tight, and the response is where it should be for the level of talent that I’m surrounded by.

So last night at our show in Butler, there were a bunch of Army guys there. They were in town for some drill work before going back out on another tour of duty. I’m the kind of faggot who gets teary-eyed at the Star Spangled Banner, or when the announce returning servicemen at the Pens games.

Anyway, after the show this guy comes up to me. He shakes my hand, and compliments the band on the show. He then says the following to me:

“I just got back from the desert. This is the first time in a year that I’ve felt alive. Thanks man.”

I’m now the kind of faggot who gets teary-eyed while writing a column about the serviceman who validated his entire music career in one sentence.

I like my job. It’s fun, it’s good money, and with the guys I’m playing with right now it’s also amazing art. I never really looked at a bunch of guys getting together to play cover songs as art – but now I do. Most people in my field don’t take their job seriously – but I do. Is it selling myself short to “waste” 10 years of education and tens of thousands of dollars in tuition to get drunk and sing “Jessie’s Girl” every week? Some people would say it is.

I’d say that music makes people feel alive – I don’t think I could be doing anything more important.

Have fun at your “real” job.