As I Near the Age of 20

by AppleJared

Octavia's Birthday

An evening in Canterlot is something most would sacrifice a day's walk to be in. The city itself perches high enough on a mountain to be above low-level cloud cover; this makes it is a fantastic place to stargaze and dream of days past or one's future. It has been said that there has never been a cloud blocking a star's view at night in the Royal City. Mum says it is because it is because Princess Luna is favored by the skies themselves. Stories reverberate around the lands of a couple's love being rekindled solely due to the wonderful view in the evening times. I have heard the stories that the sky from Canterlot's view is so powerful that it provides visions of the future for some lucky ponies. One of my old foal-books was about a story of a wandering stallion who traveled to Canterlot to find purpose in his life.

It is truly a wondrous place to be.

But the Royal City taunts me where I stand. The low-level clouds in Ponyville block the upward view just fine, which is where I currently wish to view the stars.

As I near the age of 20, I realize that 20 seems so much more of a big deal than most of the other benchmarks I have had in the past. 20 is completely out of the teenager years and into a 100%, undisputed adult-age territory. And even as I jot these words down, I feel no more adult than I did 4 years ago.

I feel more alone now than ever, which is comical because I used to be popular. Sure, I have best friends... two or three of them. And of course I have acquaintances but I cannot seem to find myself to ask for help or share my problems with these 'friends'. Even my best friends have heard enough of me in recent times and though they would put up with more, I cannot shake the feeling I have worn out my welcome in not only my friendships but also where I live.

Where my parents live.

Which is painfully hilarious in a very sad sense because I still live with my parents. Even so, there is an ever-strange mix of "You're not ready to leave us" and "You need to get out of here" attitude towards me. Matters like these shape who I am more than I would like to admit. They affect how I walk and speak and think and sleep.

I used to be better than this.

I was terrific in school and never had to study for anything. I made friends with ease and received attention from the better looking colts of my age. I spoke my words with pride and walked to my destinations with bravado and purpose. I was recognized as talented at a very young age and kept myself busy with sports alongside of my musical studies. I was better than most. I was born of class. I was elite.

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"The rain was only meant to grow the flowers and the sun would come to warm everything back up. Weeds never came close to the flowers so the flowers decided to let their guard down. The grass around the beds of beauty often praised those higher than themselves, wishing only to be something higher than what their world would allow. The flowers were born for greatness and they showed it. One day, the weeds would find their way to the flower beds..."

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Eventually that sickening alarm clock of reality woke me up from my dream-like life and made things much, much more difficult. The world no longer cared about my class, and it certainly did not care about my self-image of elitism. I was forced to take many jobs that were clearly beneath my skill level and was put up against those who had done these types of work their entire lives. I waited tables at a restaurant, I worked in a toy factory, and lastly I worked on an orchard farm with my cousin, Fiddlesticks. Things were looking down, to say the least.

I went from doing easy schooling to extremely difficult and tasking schooling. I was deemed unfit to study music and was thrown into the world of business. At first, my classes were moderately acceptable. They required little time and effort to pass and the teachers themselves were nice enough. After my first year of advanced schooling, however, things began to slide down again. My classes were business oriented and were far more difficult and tasking than what I had previously expected. In fact, it got to the point where I could not even play my cello or compose anything because of the constant barrage of impossible school work. Add this upon my part time job and you have a very bleak, but very honest view of my life. This kind of life truly affects who you are.

It even affects things like my music...

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"...There is always a terrifying moment for a flower when a weed sprouts too close. There is a moment of panic when the flower must ask itself if the weed will eventually win over the ground the flower is planted in. No flower wants to die, but after all, flowers may be beautiful but in exchange, flowers are delicate and all to easily destroyed by the most whimsical things. The worst part of the process is when the weed comes close enough as if to say 'you are no more than us'..."

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....which is a great segway into my next topic. I have picked up music as more than a hobby recently. It's a job now, though it has yet to pay monetary value. I love it. I find things that get in the way of music to be more than an irritant now. I cannot complete school assignments anymore and my grades slip from my honors-level grasp. Sleep is little to none and I find myself working without end on sounds at times like two and three in the morning without a care in the world; only to be bulldozed by the reality that classes will still go on next morning and the next day will be a living hell if I don't get at least four hours of sleep.

I am glued to my workstation/studio and there I am happiest. I have a hunger for music and its knowledge and yet the only thing the Corporate Boss sees is my lack of formal music education. He rejects every thought I produce and refuses to recognize my art as worth-while. To him, I am another wash-out, another coffee-maker, another shoe shiner. Ultimately undeserving of any kind of happiness through music.

This... this is exactly why I must press on. My works will not be choked by lack of effort on my end. I will not give up the flag of the unsigned and I refuse to allow defeat on the dreams I have had since a young foal. I cannot accept that music is not good without education and that the lead violinist of Canterlot Philharmonic is more in tune with music than I because he plays a better violin.

I cannot kneel to the confines of the western art community. I cannot recant my beliefs that birdsong is music; and while I cannot seem to make it, I will not admit that dubstep producers are untalented. I shan't allow myself to be put into a genre-box and let myself be stereotyped with a specific, bland group of people who make one type of music.

(I have made a poem about my feelings concerning music. I will pen in down soon enough.)

But no matter how bleak life may look, things can always change with sacrifice.

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"...Many flowers give up before the weeds can touch them. They would rather become one of the lesser than to fight against it and lose. They understand their fragile state and submit to the stronger forces. Others however, will not accept defeat before a fight has been given..."

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As I near the age of 20, I look back at all I have done. I have paved my own way to where I am through hard work and sacrifice. I have made steps towards exactly what I want to be in life. I will, as usual, spend this night prior to my birthday in severe introspection. I will gaze back into my life and what I have done and try my best to make sense of it all.

But as I near the age of 20, I realize everything I still have yet to do. And though they may not realize it, I have much work ahead of me. I have decisions to make about my future and I have sacrifices to be done. I can glance into the horizon and see the possibilities; possibilities that are so close to becoming real I can practically smell them.

I have lost much on the way; things I can never get back.

I have sacrificed an entire quatrain of social life. I have burned bridges that left me in a corner. I have said "no" to colts I should have said "yes" to. I have denied my parents of the bonding time they pleaded for. I have made the skipping of social gatherings and parties a sick kind of habit. I have lost more sleep than Equestrian numbers could count.

Altogether, it may sound like I have made a line of terrible mistakes concerning major life decisions.

But I have gained so much more than what a simple education could ever offer. I have bounties of pleasure that neither party nor relationship could offer. My eyes have been opened to a world of sound I believe only a select few have seen. That... that is the world I chase. It is not the fame and the money that tempts me onward, but happiness by understanding of the entity we call Music.

I recognize that my gift is one of rarity. I carry what has been given to me with great pride and march onward to dare the fates to do their worst. I take the risk of the uncommon, of the elite. I gamble my life with the positions I aim to acquire. I cannot waste away my life working in a factory or waiting tables. These tasks, while necessary in society, are not what I am called to fulfill.

While my parents as well as the majority of the population will never understand this, I cannot simply waste time to try and convince them of something when they wish to be ignorant. The actions I will take in the near future might not be what others to consider "sane", but I have never been able to promise sanity. I can only do what my heart tells me is right. Anything else would be a sin against myself.

So as I near the age of 20, I am restless of what my future will offer.

One thing is for certain. I would rather go out in flames and before my own time rather than live a long, unhappy life. I must drop everything and chase what makes me happy. These business classes do not make me happy. Ponyville does not make me happy. Living with my parents does not make my happy.

Music gives me happiness.

I will no doubt lie in my bed soon and once again ponder my past and weigh in on my mistakes. I will shed the few tears I do every year when revisiting my losses. I will walk in the shadow of my bad decisions for another night, and I will be confronted with my past. Sleep will not save me this night, nor does it ever before a birthday.

But the morrow promises light and freedom. Tomorrow my bags will be packed and my cello will be encased. I will open my curtains to let in the morning glory of the sun. The ticket to my future will be waiting on my bedpost in the form of a train pass to Canterlot. My brand new apartment will be waiting for me, and shall be occupied by a gray earth pony before the day is done. In a few weeks, Luna's School for Musicians will open and I will be one of the first students to pay tuition.

Though I will lay in bed here, I know sleep will not take me tonight.

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"... Most flowers eventually die in the face of the weeds. Those who give up before fighting are spared the shame of defeat. But some.... some make it out. Some fight so hard that the weeds will give up. Some plants are strong and beautiful. It is the flower in the field of weeds that is truly the most beautiful and prized of all plants."

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Tomorrow, I turn 20. And in the late evening of the morrow I shall see the stars in the sky,

And they shall be glorious.

-Oct.

Author's Note:

Decided to write something pretty close to home, as of (Nov. 11) I turned 20. I also have decided to drop my business degree and pursue my music dreams by way of formal education in music. Wish me luck :)

Also dedicated to Hans Zimmer; my idol, who has no formal music education but still stomps on his competition.

If you are interested in hearing some of my music, you can find some of my work here: https://soundcloud.com/jared-savage-day