Damn, It’s One of THOSE Nights. A Way to Survive The Sad Saturday Nights.

Of course, the one time I get off work before 8:30, I have no plans. Coming home to an empty house on a Saturday night is just depressing. Nevertheless, I really don’t care. I am high school student that works 20-25 hours a week, goes to the gym for 2 hours every day, and would like to maintain a social life with my friends on the weekends. I’m busier then my parents. A break would be nice. My 10th grade self would probably murder me in my sleep if I ever said I wanted to be home on a Saturday night.

In 10th grade, I was smoking a lot of weed and using whatever drugs dangled in front of my eyes. I abandoned all my friends, stop playing sports and was doing pathetically bad in school. I was depressed. The only thing that kept me going was the future. I was smart, attractive and had nowhere to go but up. With that thought process, redemption was inevitable.

There was still 2 problems, I was a heavy drug user and I had nothing to keep my mind occupied . I needed to find something or I would have become manic. So I used my stoner intuition and thought of all the things I loved to do high. I did a total of 3 things, watch TV, masturbate and listen to music. That is the exact sequence of events of Matthew Bulanchuk being high on marijuana in 10th grade. Unless I was going to be an actor or a porn star, there wasn’t much I could do in television or masturbation. Making music was the only conclusion my putty like brain could come up with, so I went with that. The only problem was I had no musical education whatsoever.

After my what I now call an epiphany, I begged my dad for a drum set.  I chose the drums because the power of intricate Rock n’ Roll beat moved me in an indescribable way. My dad, with the little hope he had left in me sucked up his doubts and bought it for me for Christmas. I played it every day for about 6 months for hours at a time. Eventually, I got bored. I really wanted to make music but its impossible to do so with just a drum beat. I needed to expand my instrumentation. That’s when the guitar came into play.

John Coltrane, one of the best saxophonist of all time played the saxophone for 8 hours a day until he was considered the best. In the summer going into 11th grade, I did about the same. I became a guitar maestro in a summer.

This whole process did two things, it bought me too what I now consider one of my passions.  Also it took my mind off of all the shitty things that were happening to me at the time. This is why I emphasize looking for a passion. Love takes your mind off your surroundings. I love my music, like Romeo loves Juliet.

A passion can do wonders. It increased my confidence, gave me meaning and actually gave me something to talk about. I remember one time I was at a party in 9th grade and the host asked me during the pregame “so what do you do?”. I stood and thought about the question and said “well, I smoke weed”. He gave me a look of complete pity. That was the first and last time I ever talked to him.

My passions saved me from internal destruction. I was ready to just give up an become a full time pill popper. The idea of that sickens me too this very day. I still think about that life style and the euphoric feeling of not giving a single shit. Everyday I think about getting back into it . The only reason I don’t is that I love writing and music too much to just throw it away for a few leaves and a white pill. My passion saves me everyday. It could save you too.

 

 

 

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