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It May Not Mean Anything To You,
But it Means The World To Me

by Jason Ghionzoli

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I recently had the pleasure of catching the last three shows of my favorite band's summer tour. I will not bother to mention the band's name because it is not important and is fairly obvious anyway. I had a great time as always, and I felt the need to share the most memorable moment of my trip- so here it is.

On this particular day I let myself get caught up in the moment and chomped a pre-show snack a little earlier than I normally like to, and I found that I had some extra time to think things over. Unfortunately, I inadvertently used this time in a somewhat negative manner.

As I watched numerous "kids" weasel their way from the lawn to the pavilion, I began to wonder if I might be getting too old for all of this. The same thought briefly floats into my head at most shows, but this time it stuck there. This occurred partly because of what I had eaten and partly because of whom I was sitting next to. You see, the majority of the people I hang out with do not listen to the same music as I do and therefore consider it a "waste of time" to spend so much time, effort, and money going to shows and collecting tapes. But, thankfully, I am not completely a stranger among my friends as there are a few of my buddies who share these same musical indulgences with me. I was fortunate enough to get one of them to accompany me on this mini tour, but now-with a million fungi-induced thoughts racing around my head-I was beginning to question our trek. Perhaps we were wasting our time, perhaps we were a couple of old men among legions of kids, perhaps my attitude of "I don't care if the 'scene' isn't what it used to be, I go to shows for the music not the scene" was no longer enough to justify me sitting there waiting for yet another show to begin. Then I began to wonder if my friend was having similar thoughts. Maybe he was thinking that our friends our right. Maybe he was kicking himself for accepting my demand that he come to the shows. Maybe, at that moment, he hated me for taking him away from his air-conditioning and leading him to this hot and sticky sweat-fest 200 miles away from home. These were the thoughts running through my head just before showtime and I didn't like it one bit.

For the first time in my life the band took the stage while I was in a negative mindset. Although the music certainly helped, I was still not able to shake these thoughts from my head. I went through the motions for the first two songs, hoping that the music would transcend me to another place the way it usually does. I was losing this struggle inside my head, even deciding that these would be my last shows, and then it hit me. As the band slid from a standard song into a fine jam, my mind began to untangle and some ration thoughts started to form. I was able to shoot down these complex questions with simple, yet effective answers until it all culminated in one glorious thought: "It may not mean anything to you, but it means the world to me!"

That was the reason I was at that show and that was the reason some people couldn't understand why I was at the show. This music that was swallowing me whole and showing me the way is what I live for, the same way planting flowers and watching them grow is what my mom lives for, and collecting stamps and admiring them is what my great uncle lives for. We all have hobbies that to us mean everything, but to others seem silly. At that moment I realized that this music, and everything that goes with it, means the world to me and if other people can't understand that then screw them. As human beings that have relationships with others, we must learn accept other people's passions. Even if we are not able to comprehend how someone can be so enthralled by something that to us appears trivial, we can still be happy for them.

While tolerance is the least we can exercise towards someone and their hobby, the ultimately righteous thing to do would be to try and dig it the same way they do. This is a great way to stumble upon a new love of your own! Certainly the last thing anyone should ever resort to is making fun of another person's passion. This may seem like an obvious piece of advice, but I'm sure that if you stop and think about it, you can find a time when you've belittled somebody's hobby just because you didn't see it the way they did. I know I have and I now realize that this is essentially equivalent to walking around with the words "I am the world's biggest asshole" painted across my face.

I'm sure that I knew all this stuff previous to my recent experience. The point is that it took some awesome live music to make me see from this particular angle. And the fact that music allowed me to realize such a powerful aspect of life tells me that this is all too great to throw away because of a few silly mushroom provoked thoughts. It also tells me that the next time my mother starts talking to me about her purple Dutch Azaleas that just bloomed on the side of the house, I'm going to show some interest because it may not mean anything to me, but it means the world to her!

Peace :)