I think people see me differently than I see myself. it’s like I see myself as a giant fuck up, but now and then, here and there, I don’t know, I get the feeling that I matter.
I feel this way when I’m playing and singing in group or some hole in the wall, even when there are only like five people there. when the words or melodies I leave behind rattle around in people’s heads for hours or days, I feel I matter then, too. when I keep challenging myself to be better at what I do, then, too.
I was reminded a couple of days ago by someone I follow, a talented and kind musician named Gray, that we can be our own worst critic. he’s so right.
it’s pretty easy to avoid being criticized, rejected, out of tune, humiliated, cancelled, and under-appreciated. you can avoid all of it simply by doing nothing. but if you risk it, you know, put yourself out there, then there’s the chance you’ll reach someone, brighten their day, and maybe even change their life. even if you suck a little, you can still matter.
yesterday at the memory care center Carolina asked me to sing for her again the song I performed there a week ago, called Who Will Love Me Now?
I did, and she loved it, and cried through the whole thing. and when I finished she told me (loose translation from Spanish here), I often cry when I am happy, and smile when I am sad.
when I played it the first time I was convinced I did a shitty job. the tempo, my phrasing, the pauses, all of it: in my head it was all really super bad. I couldn’t find anything good about my performance.
but I had overlooked the single most important part: it meant something to Carolina.
when I sang the song the second time, I didn’t think about how PJ Harvey’s haunted imagining is just so good, or how my guitar was a bit out of tune, or whether I was making all the notes. I know I left out some words (typical of me). but I left all of that alone.
and no one seemed to mind or notice, not Carolina or anyone else at the center. everyone was having a feeling during the moment as it was happening. for a little while everybody there was beautiful and young and covered with a kind of gold dust. and I felt like a positive bit of karma in a place filled with loneliness and isolation. I felt like not a fuck up. I mattered.
here’s the recording.
cookie nieves 
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