Hilton Head. Perhaps I'm going through a late stage of every musician's psychological nightmare: Am I just living in a fairy tale?

As musicians, we're constantly being bombarded with the most depressing dichotomy; the emotional paradox: if the people that I love believe in me, why am I getting rejected over and over and over again? How many rejections will it take to stomp out a dream?

As a man, I am constantly paying for my mistakes. I make a lot of them, in life and in music, but the immediacy of the latter is more psychologically disturbing than the macroscopic duration of the former. This year, I simultaneously pay for both at a price that is pushing me to a human limit I am being tested to endure for the love of my trade. I don't know how much more I can take.....or at least before I resort to the manual labor of lifting boxes for Staples at minimum wage.

The mistakes I made years ago (really....YEARS ago) that follow me today in every endeavor I pursue seem to only be a reflective reminder of the mistakes I make at the piano that follow me to the announcements of results time again and again.

It's common knowledge today that the best political move for a politician in D.C who makes a mistake is to fess up to it, apologize, and pay for it. (Arnie conquered it well when he fessed up to his bullshit sexual harrassment charge) I've fessed up, I've apologized, and I'm paying for it. Now, it's time to just stop making mistakes.