In Times of Crisis... Start a Punk Band. (For My Pop)

NOTE:: This post was originally removed at the request of a friend. I however feel that it has been down long enough. I wrote it, it's part of my story, and with no ill will towards anyone, I'm putting it back up for the archive.

And so, with one very nasty text message and a de-friending on Facebook, thus ends the saga of BodyTalk:All Female RATT Tribute. I can't pretend that I'm not sad that it's over, or that I'm not disappointed by the way it ended, but it's time to call it what it is and understand that it was time. The RATT band was wonderful for what it was... a learning experience, a technical exercise, a damn good time when times were good- but it was never quite fulfilling, because I wasn't all that into RATT (although I had, by the end, acquired a new respect for their unexpectedly tight musicianship). And although I love the ladies, each of them equally and individually, such highly concentrated levels of estrogen may or may not have been instrumental in our collective downfall.
In the last post, I alluded to the possibility of there being another project in the works, as of yet in its formative stages. This new endeavor is effectively the death knell for the last one. If any one cause must be given for our abrupt ending, this would probably suffice. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that there may have been some confusion as to how certain people really felt about me starting this project, in reference to who "owns" the original idea, and in contrast to the permissive words that were actually spoken and the neutral (positive, even) sentiments that were outwardly expressed.
One evening when tensions were running high and the stench of "breakup" was permeating the atmosphere, one band member suggested that should our current project come to a close, perhaps we ought to start a Misfits band with me singing. Which is something I've been waiting to do since I was a teenager. Not wanting- waiting. There is no way to verbally express the feeling of excitement that wells up inside me every time I so much as think about singing in a Misfits band. So I agreed that yes, should our band break up, I was RIGHT there on the Misfits project, ready to get started immediately.
One evening, after one unnecessary cat-fight too many (which should have been about 5 ago), I decided that the upcoming show should be my last. That particular sentiment had been frivolously tossed about by each of us like a batted balloon at a child's party since this project's inception, but I don't think anyone ever really wanted to take that final step. Our band was almost like a codependent relationship, with its high and low cycles, so I had enough and began allowing my brain to broil over the details of this potential Misfits ensemble.
My Dad was a very wise man, and my obedience to his advice over the years has indisputably altered the course of my life for the better. Saved me, even. He had a full arsenal of idioms and sayings that he would pull out at appropriate times; though initially appearing as simple statements, these phrases had a knack for lodging themselves in your head, and resurfacing at appropriate intervals to reveal the true multi-layered nature of their message.
One of the Reverend Charles P. Shustrick's favorite maxims has been a constant vapour in the forest of my psyche of late... a ghost dancing through the trees, never fully materializing, never attempting to convince me of anything concrete or influence any of my specific decisions directly- but always there, hinting in abstractions that these are the times for its particular employ.
"Mick, you gotta eliminate the 'What-If's."
The "What-If"s. The things you wanted to do while you could, but chose not to because of fear, inconvenience, or too much consideration given to the emotions and opinions of other people who certainly would not return that level of consideration to you. My Dad telling me to "eliminate the What-Ifs" is what helped me to end up in New York City- twice. Both times I showed up here on a Greyhound bus, with a bag of clothes, a guitar, no job and no money. And I think it's worked out pretty damn well- thanks largely in part to my Dad, who, although he didn't necessarily want to see me waitressing at pool halls, sleeping in parks and subways and delivering marijuana to strange places in Brooklyn alone late at night for $10 (first job!), still gave me his support and reminded me that I did not want to wake up at 35, hating my life and beating myself in the face because I didn't just leave everything and run away to New York City in my early 20's.
I am at a similar crossroads. It's been four months now, and I am just now beginning to heal from his loss- and from the loss of both of my grandparents at the exact same time. I am empty and hurt. My heart has been in a terrible winter that has overextended the welcome it never had, and the process of getting this new band started has provided me with the first real hints of warmth that give me hope that soon this arctic deep-freeze in my heart, soul and mind may end. I am at a point in my personal life where I just have to do what must be done in order to move forward with my life, as long as it doesn't hurt anybody. Now offending people, that's a different story. I do not want to appear a calloused person. But I just can't care right now about people's petty objections to things that, in the grand scheme, do. Not. Matter. One. Bit.
 And so to return to our narrative after this anecdotal detour... in an attempt at brevity, I will simply state that when I was all geared up and ready to get started with the new band, had an entire game plan laid out complete with co-conspirators, my bandmate who had initially suggested the Misfits project said that she was not ready, perhaps wanted to take a break from bands in general for just a moment, and gave me express permission to continue as she was aware that this was something of a lifelong dream of mine.
Continue I have... my dear friend Davey and I have put together a four-piece ensemble (me and three guys), already with a full practice under our belts. It happened so naturally and so quickly that it almost can't be anything other than providence.
Then out of nowhere I receive a cellular missive indicating that someone else in my band, not the individual who initiated the dialogue about the Misfits thing, is VERY angry with me for doing this, that they find me to be the most horrible and deplorable of human beings and that they have given me an express order to "stay out of [their] life for good." On grounds that I am an "idea thief."
And all I can really say about that is... Give me a fucking break.
I'm thinking that what this means is that someone was initially unable to tell me how they really felt about me moving forward, and then felt it necessary to vent about it behind my back. I would just love to know how that conversation went.
This is a bit of a strange feeling... Other than all of the bitchfights and temper tantrums salt-and-peppered all over this band, I haven't had any actual conflict in my life, really, for a couple solid years now (unsolicited battles with inconveniently-placed homeless lunatics notwithstanding; boyfriend spats don't count either, nor do intellectual cage-fights with flaming liberals).  I once had such a vile temper that it became my all-consuming obsession for a time to overcome it. I worked hard to learn how to exercise objectivity and patience in regards to the often gauche behaviour of my fellow humans, learned how to practice peace. See when someone offends you, it is for the well-being of your own mental and emotional health that you should learn how to simply let it go. There is no reason to engage in combat, unless someone is literally threatening you or your family. There are just more important things to worry about. Losing my Dad has really helped me understand this. After dealing with that kind of pain, how could I possibly place any value on some of the silly (and I do mean silly) issues and dealings that put some of these people into a tailspin? I mean SERIOUSLY folks. Some of the things I've seen people get upset about lately, and some of the cruel and dismissive things people are willing to say to others over absolutely nothing...
There was a point in time where I might have conceded. Self-loathing as I am,  it would be very easy for a personality like mine to internalize these insults, accept them as fact, concur that I am indeed an awful human being and abort the mission. But I just can't do that now. This is a "What-If," and I have to eliminate it. In essence I'm doing this for my Pop- all I can hear in my head is, "Mick, you gotta eliminate the 'What-If's." I see myself at 35, kicking myself because I had the chance to sing in that band I've always wanted to, but I didn't do it because somebody would have gotten pissed off about it for no reason. Chuckie Blue-Shoes (Dad's street name in his younger years, loooong before he became a Pastor) would be very disappointed to know that his kid backed down at high noon, left my gun in the holster and put my hands up over an issue that I had every right to fight for. You would have to have really known the man to fully understand what I'm trying to express here. My Dad was an old-school badass with a gentleman's code of honor. He never messed with anybody- but you didn't mess with him. You didn't mess with his daughter. You SURE as hell didn't mess with his wife. And if there was an issue worth standing for- you stood for it.
Playing in this band makes me HAPPY. It gives me something to look forward to, an outside source of energy that gives me a quick shot of adrenaline every time I so much as think about it. It's an undertaking, an endeavor, something to think about, plan, wrap my little bird-brain around so I don't go crazy. And in the band room when all four of us practice, I can really feel something. We are not worried about playing everything note-perfect. We are there for the RELEASE. We come together in inglourious disharmony to kick, scream, and pound out all of our frustrations in a constructive outlet that will hopefully translate into a hell of a good time live once we're ready. We need this for our souls. We all need this right now. Each one of us has our own personal reasons for just needing to be a part of this project, and if anyone out there feels it necessary to try and tell us that we shouldn't, well... all I can say is that I am very sorry for how you feel about that...  May You Find Peace.