You can’t just, like, use me and then throw me away, and then use me again and throw me away again, man.

As I was sitting in the Shaimus tour van in the middle of an all-day drive, I was tired both physically and mentally. I felt like a human blob–motionless all day and wondering if I was watching a small part of my young life slip away, a casualty of the road. Touring, I should mention, is often a time of extremes: the highs are incredible, and the lows can be pretty rough. I love being on the road and the tour was going quite well, but having all that time to think sometimes leads to a little nagging sensation that you may be wasting precious minutes.

This feeling is dead wrong, by the way. The fact is that almost nobody has a life that’s action-packed all the time, so it’s ludicrous to expect mine to be that way. Also, bands make great progress by touring–it’s essential to the process of building and expanding a fan base. Even when I’m sitting around doing nothing in a van, I’m still moving somewhere… it’s better than sitting around and doing nothing at home. And down the road (no pun intended), that’s the key distinction to your success. I’ll explain with a little football analogy:

The HBO series Hard Knocks takes a look at the preseason training camp of a different NFL team each year (this year it’s the Jets, I’m still waiting for my Eagles). I always find it fascinating to get a glimpse into the lives of people who are among the best at what they do, and since I’ve never played football outside a backyard, the show is particularly interesting to me; I don’t know much about what goes into putting together a pro football team. Athletes at the professional level are incredibly competitive and dedicated. And much like creative pursuits, it’s incredibly difficult to make it to the pro level… The odds are slim for “making it” in sports.

It’s tough to watch players get cut from the team. Most seem thankful for the opportunity and rightfully disappointed in the decision (they’re probably mostly disappointed in themselves). They often ask, “So what now?” Although the standard answer involves processing paperwork and returning play books, I can’t help but get a sense that they’re asking it less as an inquiry to the coach about the immediate future and more as a rhetorical reflection to themselves.

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What do you call a philosophical monk?