I’m pleased to announce that five songs from the Steve’s Quest soundtrack have been fully recorded and mixed, and are now available for listening and download here.

I decided to put these out there for your (hopefully) listening pleasure, because the visual side of our production is taking a bit longer than I originally expected, and I wanted to serve up an appetizer to anyone craving fresh, nutritious Steve’s Quest content before the main course eventually arrives.

I hope you enjoy the songs, and I’m looking forward to your feedback!

(Note:  You can listen to the songs for free on the Bandcamp site — the .99 charge per song is only for downloading.)

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I used to assume I’d become more “realistic” and conservative in my thinking as I aged, but actually the opposite has happened.

Ten years ago, when I was 26, I was focused on “establishing myself” as a “high-powered professional,” and acquiring the relationships and possessions that fit with that “role.”  I lived as if it was urgent for me to achieve these goals, because, my thinking went, I “wasn’t getting any younger.”

Today, none of those things is important to me.  What’s important today is getting my creative work into the world.  The only reason I ever do anything else for money is to support my artistic habit.  The only thing I have in common with my old mentality is somewhat of a sense of urgency.

Rule #1:  Try “Flaky” Stuff for Its Own Sake

How did I manage to get less stodgy over time?  I think it’s because, at around the age of 29, I started slowly letting myself experiment and try new things that I would have scoffed at as “flaky” or “irresponsible” three years before.

One of these was buying a keyboard (a piano one, not a computer one).  The fact that this seemed adventurous to me probably gives you an idea of my mindset at the time.  More radically, I explored what now seems to me like a dizzying array of personal growth practices, including yoga, meditation, holotropic breathwork, men’s groups, ecstatic dance, etc., etc.

The more I let myself explore, the more I realized how much choice I had around the way I could live my life, and the more I understood that I could handle taking risks.  Once I had a lot of “trying stuff for the sake of trying stuff” under my belt, my priorities started to shift.

Doing Whatever I Want Is Hard Work

At this point, the best description of my goal in life would be something like this:  “do what I want, as much of the time as possible.”  It looks like a simple plan on the surface, but sometimes it’s actually a lot harder to pursue this mission than it is to fall into familiar patterns of trying to look “respectable” and “upstanding.”

Occasionally, when I’m talking to someone, I find the urge coming up to drop a casual reference to the achievements I racked up back when I was intent on becoming a “superlawyer.”  But usually, these days, I’m able to smile at the impulse and move on.

One thing I’m sure of is:  I’m looking forward to getting younger, and less “settled down,” with age.

I used to worry about “overstaying my welcome” with people in my life — talking to them too much, or hanging out with them too often, and causing them to get bored or irritated with me.  Or maybe, if I spent too much time with them, they’d start wondering whether I had anyone else to be with.

Believe it or not, the same concern would come up when I was about to write a blog post or say something on Facebook.  If I post too often, I thought, won’t people get tired of me, and stop reading and interacting with me?  Don’t I have to be really careful not to talk too much?

My Stunning Realization that Other People Are Grownups

These days, although the same issue still comes up for me from time to time, it feels a lot less important.  The reason is that I eventually realized that other people, seeing as how they’re adults, can actually make their own decisions about how much time they want to spend with me.

After all, if I hold back from talking to someone because I’m worried that they’ll get sick of me, aren’t I assuming they can’t protect their own time?  That they’re incapable of telling me that they’d like to spend some time alone, or spend it with somebody else?

In other words, if I assume people can’t say “no” to my requests for their time, I’m basically treating them like children who haven’t yet developed the ability to communicate what they want, and need me to take care of them.

. . . And That I’m a Grownup Too

Also, I’ve come to see that, if I’m avoiding someone because I’m worried about “taking up too much of their time,” it’s probably because, on some level, I’m afraid of how I’ll feel if they say they don’t want to be with me.  In a sense, then, I’m treating myself like a child, because I’m assuming that I’m too fragile to handle the intensity of hearing “no.”

Now, there may in fact be people out there who just couldn’t bring themselves to tell me if they didn’t want to spend time with me.  (Who knows, maybe lots of people secretly feel that way!)  And it may be that, sometimes, I’m feeling kind of sensitive, and hearing someone say they don’t want to be with me will be painful.

Still, I think it’s more respectful, and does more to promote growth — both other people’s and mine — if I treat myself and others like adults, and I let others be the judge of how much time they want to spend with me, instead of trying to decide for them.

We’re putting the finishing touches on the animation for the first episode of Steve’s Quest, and we expect to release the episode later this month!  To whet your appetite, I’ll share a few — oh, wait, what should I call these pictures from the episode?  Screenshots — or is that term only appropriate for video games?  Stills — or does that only work for shots of live people?

My mind boggles over this question, and perhaps rightly so, as the online animated musical is, after all, a new art form.  Maybe the fact that we’re breaking new ground means we can call these pictures anything we want.  How about something totally unique, like “fruzzils”?  Sounds vaguely Harry Potter-ish, but I don’t think that word ever actually appears in the books.  Anyway, without further ado, help yourself to some fruzzils:

Gain, the hero of Steve’s sci-fi novel, emerges from behind a wall, poised to foil the dastardly plans of his nemesis, the crimelord Wotan.

Gain pursues Wotan into “The Net,” a Matrix-like virtual world that — you guessed it — you can enter by plugging a fiberoptic cable into the back of your head.

Gain discovers a mysterious antique telephone.  What is its possibly sinister purpose?

Steve in bed, where he gets his most profound creative insights.

Steve’s Mom, on the phone — likely with the sinister purpose of harassing Steve.

Steve’s roommate Andrew, next to a truly enormous lightswitch.

A typical day at the Steve & Andrew residence.

I hope you enjoyed this brief peek into the Steve’s Quest universe — some day it will undoubtedly be called the “Steve-o-verse,” just as the Buffy the Vampire Slayer universe is affectionately known as the “Buffyverse.”  Anyway, more to come very soon!

I left my psychology graduate program a little over a week ago.  It was a decision I’d agonized over for months, mostly because of how much I care about and enjoy my fellow students.

I eventually recognized I had to cross at least one or two items off my agenda.  I’d been working on my show, doing solo law work, going to grad school at night, and organizing events for my men’s organization, and I started to notice I was spending a lot of my non-music-oriented time wishing I were working on music.

At a deeper level, I saw that, if I was going to be honest with myself, I had to admit I didn’t like the notion of choosing a path in life.  I was “keeping my options open” because I loved the exhilarating feeling of contemplating my limitless potential (a/k/a not growing up).

And Now, Ironically, For Some Psychology

On the “psychology tip,” I think Jung would have called the part of me that wanted to simultaneously pursue everything the puer aeternus, which is a fancy Latin term for “eternal boy.”  The eternal boy, like Peter Pan, wants to stay constantly in flight, never settling for too long on any perch.

On the surface, the eternal boy part of me might seem like a liability — after all, if I keep chasing every new idea that strikes my fancy, aren’t I likely to end up regretting, thirty years later, that I didn’t pursue one thing hard enough to really make a go of it?

But if we look deeper, there are amazing things about that Peter Pan energy.  The eternal boy is the source of my creativity — he thrills in flitting around between ideas and finding cool ways to put them together.

This Might Actually Help Me “Not Grow Up”

What I realized, when I thought about it, was that being clearer about my path can actually serve the eternal boy.  After all, the eternal boy doesn’t thrive under lots of structure — he doesn’t like anybody plotting his flight path — and dropping some of my recurring to-dos fed his need for freedom.

The creative part, I think, needs time to forget about time — to let go of the linear and the predictable (the “grown up”), and play around with possibilities.  With a schedule that’s too full, that doesn’t work so well.

The challenge for me now will be to let go, during the time I’ve gifted to myself, and really allow the eternal boy to play, rather than fretting that I should be doing chores or something else more “responsible.”

Seeing how much fun I’ve been having creatively over the past few years, I think I can handle it.

While the visual side of Steve’s Quest has been trudging along slowly but surely, I’ve been working on song ideas for other possible shows, since my goal is to write and produce a whole bunch of musicals.  My biggest ambition is to be able to say I have a musical oeuvre. 

I have several (okay, closer to many) show concepts kicking around in my head, and I’ve been struggling to settle on one to run with.  So, I’ve decided to “crowdsource” the issue, and ask which of the following show ideas you find most interesting:

1.  Astragundia:  Astragundia is an animated musical comedy set in the world of a classic console fantasy role-playing game, complete with 8- or 16-bit Nintendo-style art.  Given how much console video game music influences the songs I write, this seems like a natural fit for me.

As in the typical plot of such games, the hero’s true origin is unknown, but he was found as an infant outside a humble village, and raised there by a kindly farmer couple.  Strange events transpire, such as a mysterious star falling to earth outside the village, and a girl (or girl-like being) claiming to be from a distant world coming to town, that ultimately lead our hero to embark on an epic quest to save the world of Astragundia from destruction.

2.  The Grate: I shared a bit about this concept a while back, but for those who missed it, The Grate is about a man who falls into a sewer or subway grate, and finds himself in a magical realm of immortal creatures (played by Fraggle Rock-style puppets).

The only part of the plot that has really solidified at this point is that our hero, after spending some time with the puppets, starts to notice green fur growing on his body.  The puppets tell him that, if he stays in their village, he’ll eventually turn into one of them, which will mean that, although he will have eternal life, he’ll also spend eternity looking Fraggle-esque.

So, he must choose between immortal puppethood and venturing into the darkness beyond the village.  My current thinking is that he’s freaked out by the prospect of becoming one of the creatures and leaves, and he is taken captive by some more sinister-looking puppets.  These creatures are ruled by a dark queen who turns out to be the hero’s ex-wife.  In the end, they find a way to reconcile, or at least get on speaking terms.

3.  The Therapist: This live-action show won’t actually be called The Therapist, but that is its working title because it is, shockingly enough, about a therapist.  The hero runs an afterschool program at a high school that students in the “self-contained” group, meaning kids viewed as dangerous to themselves or others, are required to attend.  The kids in the program are all male, which, for better or worse, tends to be the gender of people who commit violent crimes.

Anyway, our hero has unorthodox methods of working with the boys — rather than trying to teach them to obey society’s rules, he provides a safe place for them to talk about how they’re actually feeling, which is sometimes pretty rageful.  He also teaches them how to firmly but nonviolently stand up for themselves.

The boys’ parents and teachers feel threatened by our hero’s approach and how it seems to be changing the kids, and some of the adults try to get him fired.  I’m not sure what happens in the end, but the concept seems controversial and exciting to me.

If you prefer one of these ideas, or you’d like to suggest something else, please let me know.

I recently noticed that, over the years (and it has been years) that I’ve been blogging, I’ve become less interested in giving advice to other people about what they should do, and more interested in just sharing my own experience of living.

I thought it would be interesting to take a moment and ask why I’ve moved in this direction.  I mean, let’s face it — the most popular posts in the blogosphere seem to be lists of the best ways to pitch your business, the best iPhone apps to buy, and so on.  Why would I shy away from this “prescriptive” approach people seem to like and just start talking about myself?

“Prescription” Ignites My Inner Two-Year-Old

The most obvious reason is that I simply don’t like being told what to do.  When someone tells me something like “here’s how you should introduce yourself to people,” my first instinct is to resist and perhaps even do the exact opposite of what I’m being told.

I may be unique in this sense — maybe, for some reason, I never fully grew out of the “Terrible Twos” stage of psychological development.  But my sense is that a lot of other people also instinctively dislike being told what to do, whether by their mothers or some random dude on the internet.

My Rejection of Projection

At a deeper level, though, what I’ve come to realize is that, when I’m writing about what someone else “should do,” I’m usually, in reality, talking to myself.  If I’m telling someone how to organize their living space, for example, my own (physical or emotional) space is probably somewhat of a wreck, and I can likely stand to take my own advice.

Psychologists call what’s happening here “projection.”  Because we don’t want to acknowledge what we’re feeling and what’s going on in our lives, we pretend as if someone else is having the experience we’re having.  If I say “you sound really angry,” it’s likely that I’m projecting my own anger onto you because I don’t want to admit that I feel it.

It feels riskier, but more honest, to drop the façade of telling you what to do, and acknowledge what’s going on for me and what I want to do.  If I tell you that I want to be more organized, I take a risk, because I admit that I’m disorganized and therefore imperfect.  Still, it feels liberating to be able to simply speak my truth, without trying to look good or avoid criticism.

It also feels great to me when someone else tells me what’s going on for them, and what they want and need.  It gives me a sense of permission to let down my own guard, and helps me to feel a connection with the person I’m talking to.

So that, in a nutshell, is why I’ve taken to navel-gazing lately, and why you should do it too (just kidding).

I’m excited to share a new song that appears in the second episode of Steve’s Quest, my upcoming online animated musical, called “Give Her The Tour.”

This song is a duet between Steve, our software engineer hero, and Ash, Steve’s friend and self-appointed romantic adviser.  Ash is giving Steve advice about how to romance Sabrina, Steve’s love interest.

The video you’ll see below includes both the song and a montage of the concept art we’ve done recently.  You’ll also see some candid shots from the time we’ve spent in the recording studio (which at this point, at least for me, has been a lot):

If you enjoy the song and video, I’d appreciate a “Like” on YouTube.  You can also hear another song from the show, “Maximized,” here. Thanks for listening!

I recently realized that, whenever I’m doing something creative, whether it’s writing a song or a blog post or something else, one question I’m usually, and unconsciously, asking myself is:  “would my parents be okay with this?”

Not surprisingly, this concern is particularly strong when I’m writing a piece where some of the characters are parents.  In Steve’s Quest, for instance, Steve’s Mom is overbearing, maybe to the point of being tyrannical, and I fretted over whether I should play the songs she sings to my mother (in the end, I did).

But even if I’m not writing something that’s specifically about parents, the same worry is usually there on a subtle level.  If I’m writing a song with a sad or angry mood, for example, sometimes I’ll wonder if my parents will hear the song and think I must be in that mood.  What’s more, maybe they’ll interpret the song as my way of blaming them for making me feel that way, and then feel guilty or get defensive.

But What Would They Want?

There’s probably some truth to all this.  After all, the songs I write, as well as all of my thoughts and feelings in any given moment, probably are deeply shaped by my experiences with my family.

And it’s not impossible to imagine that, if I wrote a song that expressed anguish, and my parents heard it, they might hold themselves responsible for the feeling conveyed in the song, or see the song as an attack on them.

But when thinking about this issue a few days ago, I had an important realization:  even if my parents felt hurt by a song I wrote, that doesn’t mean they’d want me to scrap the song.  They wouldn’t want me to stifle my creativity to spare their feelings.  I’m fortunate enough to have parents who have, by and large, encouraged me to write.

Who’s the Parent Here?

Seeing this has helped me put my concerns about “hurting my parents with my writing” in perspective.  But this realization might not be as helpful to some people.  Some of us, I suspect, do have parents who would want us to repress our creativity to keep them comfortable.

For people in this situation, I think a useful question is:  if you stifled your expression to keep the peace with your parents, would you really be helping them?

In other words, if you kept your parents from hearing difficult truths about your relationship with them, would you be acting in their best interests?  Or would you be treating them like children, and depriving them of opportunities to grow?

Sometimes I suspect that creative expression is really about communicating things we don’t feel able to directly say to people.  A lot of psychologist Alice Miller’s writings (definitely check her out if you haven’t already) are on this subject.

As so many of us find honest communication with our parents one of the hardest things to do, I think, our creativity can be one route to building the connections we want with them, or at least feeling like we’ve said what we need to say.

Growing up, I believed that, if I told someone I was feeling sad or hurt, I would be “complaining.”  People who complain, I thought, are whiny and weak.

So, to be a “good boy,” and later on, a “real man,” I made sure I kept my moments of sadness and hurt to myself.  In fact, you could even say I built my identity around being able to tolerate pain without protest.

After all, in my mid-to-late twenties, I spent most of my time in my office at a law firm, striving to handle as many matters as possible without a peep of discontentment, and show I was tough enough to take on any task the “higher-ups” threw my way.

How I Got Caught Singing

Sure, this attitude had its perks.  Some people admired my inhuman discipline and stamina.  But one night, I had a chat with a coworker that revamped my worldview.

I had the door to my office closed, and I didn’t think anyone else was in the building.  Believing I was alone, I momentarily dropped the tough-guy façade and started singing.  The song was “Remember,” which Josh Groban sings at the end of the Troy soundtrack.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door.  My colleague walked in and said “I didn’t know you could sing.”

My first reaction was to be mortified.  Not only did my coworker hear me singing, but she heard me singing a mournful ballad originally recorded by a guy who does Christmas song duets with Celine Dion.

I mean, couldn’t it at least have been something macho and aggressive like Metallica?  Something more in keeping with the hard-as-nails image I wanted to project?  Didn’t this episode make me look like kind of a wuss?

How “Wussiness” Feeds My Creativity

Actually, though, she seemed excited by my singing.  “I always imagined you doing something creative,” she said.  “I’m glad to hear it’s true.”

This was a surprise.  Not only did she appreciate my singing, but she enjoyed hearing me perform a song that showed my softer side.  To her, it didn’t mean I was weak — it just meant I was a creative guy.

It occurred to me, in that moment, that my creativity was closely tied to my “vulnerable” feelings — hurt, sadness, embarrassment, and so on.  By hiding those emotions in order to look tough, I was actually stifling my creativity, and depriving the world of what I had to offer.

Soon after this realization, I started getting back into songwriting and performing, which I hadn’t done for a long time.  Writing songs was easiest, I noticed, when I based them on difficult experiences from my life.  My “vulnerability” became more of a well to draw on for creative inspiration, rather than a weakness I had to hide.

I hope other people who feel scared to share their creative parts are fortunate enough to have someone in their lives who catches them singing.