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A Message From The Harshest Critic I Know…

April 23, 2012

My right (your left) shoulder has a darker pigmentation than the rest of my body.  I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.  My mom calls it my birthmark (but I have another one…somewhere else), I refer to it as a mark of destiny.

Yet now I refer to it as something else.  Maybe it’s because of my (increasing) crankiness, maybe it’s because of the (mediocre) music that regulates the airwaves, or the fact that I feel like the one person who recognizes it’s mediocre, but I’ve recently felt like I’ve had a chip on my shoulder.  Maybe it was when I logged on to Twitter for the first time that something in me snapped.

I’m always at the opposite end of the spectrum when it comes to debates and arguments, because I’ve learned in Philosophy that you always want to argue what you feel most passionate about/what you’re against, as it’s much easier to argue what you’re against than what you’re for.  Sounds like a sound philosophy to me, but you still want to do your research on BOTH SIDES before arguing any case.  Those who jump into battles blindly tend to be the most scarred, while those who are well prepared receive the least damage.

Whatever it was, it was through the Tumblr of one Mr. Dart Adams, a dope follow on Twitter (if you care), where I was compelled to type this post.

I refer to the (darker) pigmentation my right shoulder as “the ingrown chip”.  All it takes is the smallest of actions, and I feel compelled to attack each and everything in my path.

I want to be one of the best.  I’m sorry, I every time I attempt to type “one of the best”, “one of” gets an automatic strike-through.  As a matter of fact, I’m not sorry.  I want to be the best.  Period.  In fact, I’ll say it again.

I WANT TO BE THE BEST.

It’s the competitive spirit, not to mention Human Nature.  No person wakes up and says, “I do not want to be the best.”  They will say something passive-aggressive, where everyone within earshot will interpret what a person says and make their own conclusions.  That’s not what I’m talking about; I’m talking about waking up, looking at yourself in the mirror and saying “I do not want to be the best.”  Just doesn’t happen.

This desire is what frustrates me, when I hear dopeness get posted that people outside of my circle are listening to.  It boils my blood when I see two dope artists having a conversation on Twitter, while I’m stuck on the outside looking in.  It’s the fuel that feeds me, because I want to be one of the best, I WANT to know I’m not pursuing a pipe dream, and I want to join the ranks of my predecessors and I want to be in the breath of the people that I admire.  Because, contrary to what The Alchemist is said, there is a gate or a wall or an obstacle of some kind.  It’s not visible, but it’s there.  I’m not against hard work and paying dues, but when one has to be sacrificed to gain the other…

At the core, I just want to make dope shit that more than 10 people are listening to.

I’m a tale of two people: my biggest fan & my worst critic.  On one hand, I know my shit is dope.  On the other hand…I’ve heard doper.  Which is both a blessing and a curse, because I’m so overly critical of myself, I fail to see that what I already have/made is dope.  Pete Rock once praised one of (my best) beats, and told me to keep at it.  Yet, I still aim higher.

My boy has a saying “Anything else would be uncivilized.”  I want to hear the best.  I want to make the best.  I want to be the best.  Not “decent”.  Not “it has a few skippable tracks”.  No, I’m talking, I can listen to it from front to back wherever I am without a single skip.  A reach I’m sure, but…anything else be uncivilized.

Of course, I got some dope stuff.  I put the work in to make it sound as dope as possible.  Matter of fact, someone asked, “What more can you do than your best?”

Better.  At least until I can surgically remove this ingrown chip in my shoulder.  But I lie though.  Simply because anything else would be uncivilized.

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