The Impostor

DISCUSSED:  Lying to Potential Employers for Fun and Profit, Free Things, Christian Rock Music, Magazines That Cover Christian Rock Music (And Their Less Than Stringent Hiring Policies), “the Secret Handshake”, Almost Famous, Peeing Your Pants Onstage,  Being “Real”

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When I was a sophomore in high school, I decided that I wanted to be a paid music journalist.

I knew I could write about anything, but writing about music, for me, was easy, because I was in love with it.  It had begun its wholesale invasion of me, planting its flag in my brain.  I wanted to be on the inside of this mechanism, so I started knocking.

I e-mailed several music publications and told them the same (false) story; that I was an accomplished freelance writer looking to “expand my territory” and make a little scratch at the same time, and that I would love to get the chance to write for their prestigious journal and so on and so forth[1]. And it actually worked.

A Christian rock magazine (one that I will not name, but I’m positive it’s not around anymore) hired me on a freelance basis, to review records and interview artists.  And it was great.  I got free CDs in the mail, and I got to meet numerous Christian ska bands[2], and it was amazing.

I was living the Impostor life – getting paid to be something that I really wasn’t.

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More on that in a little bit.  Let’s talk about 2011.  Let’s talk about it because sometimes I feel like I’m still that same Impostor, only in a different line of work.

I mean, I smile at people, even when I don’t feel like smiling, even when I’m having an awful day.  I speak the language, know the secret handshakes.  I talk about “the Spirit” and “bringing God glory” even though sometimes I’m hard-pressed to explain what those terms mean.  I am really good at playing church.

I’m not sure I want to be good at playing church anymore.

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When I tell people about my past life as a renegade journalist, they ask if it was like Almost Famous.  And it pains me to tell them (and you) that, no, this was nothing like Almost Famous.  The kid in Almost Famous gets to hang out with Lester Bangs and canoodle with a pre-romcom Kate Hudson and even ride on tour buses with a band that sounds suspiciously like the Allman Brothers.  I, on the other hand, got mailed packages of Christian punk rock and techno music and found myself with the unenviable task of churning out 100 words apiece on “why you would like this record”[3] and “what mainstream artist this band most resembles”.[4]

 I “hung out” with precisely one band. They were perfectly nice, but also seemed somewhat nervous to be hanging out with me.  I think they believed that I somehow had the power to potentially derail their career with just one article.[5]

It became clear to me that I was in over my head.  I was 16 years old, pretending to be way older and “legitimate”.  And pretending to be “legitimate” is tiring work.  We see it in the world around us.  We see it on TV, in popular music, and everywhere else.  Having to act like we “belong here” wears us out.  It makes us walk slower and smile through gritted teeth.  We were not made for this. 

So what starts out as a noble enterprise - wanting to make a mark on the world, desiring to use our talents and creative gifting in visible, exciting ways - ends with us banging our heads against the wall, trying to stretch 50 words into 150 words, laboring to find new, interesting synonyms for words that everyone uses.

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“The Church needs people who are passionate and alive,” the Recruiter tells us.  And we respond by being Passionate and Alive.  Even when we don’t feel like being Passionate and Alive.

I would lovingly challenge that.  I would push deeper, and say that the Church needs Real People who feel Real Feelings and hurt Real Hurts.  That is the only way we are going to communicate with a Real, Feeling, Hurting world. That is authenticity.

And I’m not sure what that looks like yet for me.  I’m still exploring that.  But I’ve come to grips with what it doesn’t look like.

It doesn’t mouth shallow platitudes to people who are hurting.

It doesn’t smile and wave when it’s privately falling apart on the inside.

And it admits that there are deficiencies, both in the world and in itself, but that there is a Force greater than all of that.  And it’s a Force that has the power to legitimize things that have been counterfeit, and people that have, for too long, felt like Impostors. - DW

[1] It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been actually published up to this point, or that I was really 16

[2] Probably not the one you’re thinking of, though 

[3] No negative reviews allowed in mid-90’s-era Christian music journalism.  Can you see why I was so bad at it?  Have you ever tried earnestly complimenting the music of Raze?

[4] This was another thing about alternative Christian music in general: the perceived importance of drawing a comparative line back to one’s secular counterpart, i.e. how Argyle Park can’t simply be an industrial act, but “the Christian Nine Inch Nails”

[5] Years later, this band’s lead singer would pee his pants on stage as a joke

DISCUSSED: The Effects That Road Trips Can Have on Our Collective Psyche, Truck Stop Proposals, Doritos, Secrets, Tricking the Ones You Love, Dudes With Beards Trekking to the Desert, Mini-Hurricanes (and Other Unexplained Phenomena), Frodo, Boundaries, Traffic Etiquette, The Difficulty of Finding Food in Palm Springs After 9:00, Managing Conflict by Managing Yourself

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I once drove from Livermore to Palm Springs with an engagement ring in my pocket.  I made this trip with the person I was planning on giving this ring to once we got from Point A to Point B.  That was a pretty big secret, and it cast a weird light upon the entire day.  Not a bad light, really; just weird.

We stopped at a truck stop somewhere outside of Turlock, because I wanted chips, and I remember standing in line to buy my chips and being overcome with this thought: what if I just gave her the ring now?  Right here, right now, in the middle of this convenience mart, next to the Hot Pockets and sunglasses rack?

Thankfully, this rogue thought disintegrated once I realized what kind of story that would make for our grandchildren in 40 years, and also when I realized that they had Salsa Verde Doritos.[1]  But that secret was weighing on me.  I couldn’t wait to see my girlfriend’s face when I gave her the ring.[2]

We drove on, and stopped for lunch in Burbank, and as we ate tacos and griped about the oppressive heat, I thought to myself about how funny it would be to take the ring out of my pocket and say something like “hey, I found this ring in the bathroom of that Urban Outfitters we just walked through, we should totally get married now”, or something.

In retrospect, I’m really glad I didn’t do that.

The road between Burbank and Palm Springs was swarmed, both with the cars of bearded hipsters going to the same desert rock festival we were, and also with these bizarre, wind-powered mini-hurricanes of dirt and debris.  Every five minutes or so, a mini-hurricane would charge at us, whipping past our car.  It sounded like someone was throwing fistfuls of sand at us.  But as it got darker, it got less novel, and more irritating and kinda-scary, and it chewed at our nerves until we were cranky and snapping at each other. 

At this point, we had spent literally something like ten hours in a small space with each other, and we just needed to get out.  And that trinket in my pocket, at this point, was starting to take on the metaphysical weight of Frodo’s ring[3], and all I could think was oh, you’re going to feel so bad once I’VE UNLEASHED THIS SECRET RING ON YOU.  This (purely-justified) complaining you’ve done about my driving in hazardous conditions is going to seem REAL PETTY once I’ve PLEDGED THE REST OF MY LIFE TO YOU grumble grumble grumble…

It’s funny how secrets affect the way we act and the scenarios we envision.

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I’m going to stop right here and say a few things about secrets.

I don’t think all secrets are unhealthy.  I think that some things are meant to only be known or taken into consideration by one or two or three people.  Keeping a secret is a lost art, and in some cases, can be the difference between drawing healthy boundaries and asking every one you meet to play an intimate role in your life.

But the lesson I’ve learned about my secrets, whether they’re caused by expensive, hidden wedding rings or dark things we’ve done or small insecurities or deficiencies that are opening up inside us and threatening to get bigger, is that they dictate how we act, and, to a greater idea, us.  That’s not a bad thing; that’s human nature.  And I’ve learned that being human includes understanding and accepting that the people around me have secrets, just like me.   We all have components of our psyches that we are not comfortable putting on display for the world to see.

These secrets might be small, private things that only their closest friends know about.  They might be huge black holes that they’ve told no one about.  They might be hidden fears, guilt, things they find funny, things they can’t find funny anymore, enjoyments, passions, even places or people.  But they are there, nevertheless, tucked neatly (or not-so-neatly) inside everyone you meet, touch, wave at, bump into, or cut off in traffic.

And the things that other people do, that you find weird or off-putting or hard-to-explain?  Those might be by-products of those secrets.  And you might have to be OK with not understanding.  Accepting the dark unknowns of others is the first step on the road to accepting the dark unknowns of yourself.

In the past, when I have found myself in major conflict with someone, I have had to stop for a moment and think: something is happening in this person’s life that is making them respond to others like this.  I don’t necessarily have to concern myself with what their “secret” is[4] - that isn’t really my business.  My business is to love.

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So we made it to Palm Springs intact and somewhat-functional, and I gave her the ring (in a really non-theatric way that I still wonder if I should’ve spruced up just a little bit), and we became fiancé and fiancée, or however you’re supposed to write that, and she called her parents and I called mine, and we had the requisite “holy smokes we’re engaged” self-realization moment, and then remembered we hadn’t eaten and it was nearly 10:30 at night, and we needed something to eat.

As we made our way around non-familiar downtown Palm Springs in search of food, I reflected on how weird it was to spend the day with such an immense secret biting at the heels of everything I said and did.  I’ll never forget that strange urge I had to get on one knee in the snack aisle of a Circle K and pledge my life to someone.

I don’t want to live my life oblivious to the hurt and pain harbored by the people around me.  I don’t want to take offense at every single misdeed or misspoken word spilled my way.  I want to be full of grace and love, understanding of the private emergencies that affect each and every one of us.  That is a part of Love, and Love is the most excellent way. - DW

[1] These are the best Doritos.

[2] Not just for Sentimental Reasons, either…I really love making people feel like they’ve been tricked, and I had successfully tricked Amy into thinking that I was broke because I blew my tax return on something frivolous, and not on something awesome and life-changing like a ring.  This makes me weird, right? OK.

[3] Whoops, getting nerdy here, sorry

[4] God help us if that becomes our main focus, especially if it takes priority over loving the person in question.