Even Robots Get the Blues.

You really do have to be a machine in order to make any significant headway as a self-made man or woman, or at least this is what I’m assuming since ’self-made’ doesn’t quite apply to me yet. As a culture, we have an undying fascination with the whole rags to riches story, but what gets someone from the rags to the riches exactly? There is this romantic notion of chasing down the American Dream, but as we all know, with romance comes the ever encroaching risk of heartbreak.

No one seems to linger on this point though, perhaps because the people that ‘make it’ are only interesting enough to interview post-success. And so, looking down from the top, it’s probably easy for them to adopt a sentimental view of the struggle. I, however, am in the thick of it, and the uphill climb is a sonofabitch. Sentimental feelings are a long way off for this little bird. That said, the relationship is not without romance. Waking up at a reasonable hour, strolling in to my very own studio, enjoying the backdrop of good music and old movies while I work, these are the small payoffs that I treasure.

Unfortunately, these pleasures take a back seat to the grunt work that actually fills most of my day, which brings us to the machine part of the scenario. The internal robot needs to be turned on at some point, and I encourage everyone to welcome it with open arms. It will not only carry you through all of the boring, tedious, brain numbing work that is unavoidable, but it will also protect you from some of the emotional wear and tear that will inevitably come your way.

By the same token, it cannot shield you from all heartbreak. Even in robotic mode, people and situations can hit the weak spots in your armor. This is why the mix of heart and machinery is necessary. It will be your passion that helps you rise to your feet again, but it is your robot that will get you to the next rest stop. So, squirt a little oil on those hinges, and be kind to it.

Filed under Blackbird Diary |