When I was a kid I never considered that I was “punk rock” in any way.  I always felt like if I implied that I identified myself as a “punk” I would in fact be a “poser.”  It isn’t until now… now when I’m all grown up… (well, more grown up than before) that I really see what the term “punk rock” means to me.
Fuck conforming to stereotypical definition of the term because that in itself defeats the purpose.  Your opinion my vary from mine but the beauty of it is that I really don’t care.  It’s not that I wouldn’t consider it!  It’s not that I would be closed-minded.  It’s just that I don’t care.  Opinions are opinions and that is a fact.
So anyways, read on if you will if you’re interested in hearing my opinion of the so called punk “movement.”
First let me say that I think if anything is to be considered a “movement” it has to be moving in a general direction.  Or at least it has to be aimed to move in a general direction.
Looking back at the friends, foes and acquaintances that I’ve known over the years…. zeroing in and focusing on the select few that I consider to fit my own personal definition of punk… It’s easy to see the downside of things.
The punk (and often times “punk”) kids that I grew up with that had nowhere to go.  No direction.  Thirsty for knowledge, security and something bigger than what they had. They were angry because there voices were unheard.  They were angry because they couldn’t find answers.  They found comfort from the confusion of adolescence in grouping together, riding in cars and blaring punk music.  Belting unintelligible (unless you actually read them) lyrics at the top of their lungs and throwing themselves out into the world with that “I don’t give a fuck” attitude not just for attention (though we were kids, so of course we wanted attention —don’t deny it!) and not just for the thrill of it, but because we NEEDED that release.
Just like any other hormone-crazed teenagers – we yearned for that liberation.  We needed something to stand for.  We didn’t all dress in leather, spikes and piercings.  We didn’t all have hardcore attitudes and get in the pit at every show.  We were colorful.  We were dark, we were light, we were crazy, we were mellow!  We were “two-tone”!  We were rudies and hooligans!  In a time when we’re all trying to sort out whether we to act like grownups or to act like kids and we just couldn’t get it together… Punk music gave us stability in all of the insanity.
And then we grow up.
Here’s where it gets difficult.
When we’re kids it’s all about self expression, proving your individuality and feeling empowered… or just having someplace to go when you couldn’t be home and you felt noone else accepted you… but what happens when you grow up?
I think because I never fully embraced the “punk” image, always teetering on the edge with my love and admiration for it but my fear of committing to the “label”, it was a bit easier for me to let things go… Keep the good and shed the unnecessary.
I kept the music.  I kept the ideals.  I kept the unity I felt with my friends and family.  I kept the positive energy and the excitement.  I discarded the leather 😉  I discarded the drugs (which thankfully I never used).  I discarded the anger.
Unfortunately with the things that I’d left behind, I also lost some friends…
Some people couldn’t get past the drugs and alcohol.  Couldn’t get past the image.  Couldn’t get past the parties.  They never found that balance in themselves to keep the positive and step away from the negative.  You know those people… the ones that you’d love to reconnect with but you’re afraid to see what they’ve done with themselves.  Or maybe you heard some terrible rumors about how they’ve gone off the edge.  Maybe they’re in jail?  Maybe they’ve committed suicide… Maybe they shut you out because they know you’ll want them to do better for themselves.
I’ve lost friends and family to drugs, alcohol, suicide and even murder.
It’s not just the punk kids.
There are people like that in every genre.  People we love but we can’t reach.  They get stuck in their adolescent angst and their inability to grow and learn from the horrible things that may have happened to them or simply what they’ve done to themselves.
We love them.  We want them to grow, but sometimes there’s just nothing we can do.  Sometimes they have to learn for themselves…. or never learn at all.
Growing up, my punk ass friends were my family.  They still are.  We still get together on occasion and rock out to the same songs that we used to listen to when we were kids, talking about ideals and the crazy ass world we live in.  We may dress different, we may still dress the same, but we love each other because we grew together through those times and we’re happy that we still have each other.  Nobody knows me like they do.
So… yeah.  I may dress business casual Monday – Friday, get my trendy latte and tone down on the cursing, but I feel pretty damn comfortable saying that at heart I’m still that goofy little punk kid.
Long story short…
Punk to me has always been about unity.  I like it that way.

When I was a kid I never considered that I was “punk rock” in any way.  I always felt like if I implied that I identified myself as a “punk” I would in fact be a “poser.”  It isn’t until now… now when I’m all grown up… (well, more grown up than before) that I really see what the term “punk rock” means to me.Fuck conforming to stereotypical definition of the term because that in itself defeats the purpose.  Your opinion my vary from mine but the beauty of it is that I really don’t care.  It’s not that I wouldn’t consider it!  It’s not that I would be closed-minded.  It’s just that I don’t care.  Opinions are opinions and that is a fact.So anyways, read on if you will if you’re interested in hearing my opinion of the so called punk “movement.”First let me say that I think if anything is to be considered a “movement” it has to be moving in a general direction.  Or at least it has to be aimed to move in a general direction.Looking back at the friends, foes and acquaintances that I’ve known over the years…. zeroing in and focusing on the select few that I consider to fit my own personal definition of punk… It’s easy to see the downside of things.  The punk (and often times “punk”) kids that I grew up with that had nowhere to go.  No direction.  Thirsty for knowledge, security and something bigger than what they had. They were angry because there voices were unheard.  They were angry because they couldn’t find answers.  They found comfort from the confusion of adolescence in grouping together, riding in cars and blaring punk music.  Belting unintelligible (unless you actually read them) lyrics at the top of their lungs and throwing themselves out into the world with that “I don’t give a fuck” attitude not just for attention (though we were kids, so of course we wanted attention —don’t deny it!) and not just for the thrill of it, but because we NEEDED that release. Just like any other hormone-crazed teenagers – we yearned for that liberation.  We needed something to stand for.  We didn’t all dress in leather, spikes and piercings.  We didn’t all have hardcore attitudes and get in the pit at every show.  We were colorful.  We were dark, we were light, we were crazy, we were mellow!  We were “two-tone”!  We were rudies and hooligans!  In a time when we’re all trying to sort out whether we to act like grownups or to act like kids and we just couldn’t get it together… Punk music gave us stability in all of the insanity.And then we grow up.Here’s where it gets difficult.When we’re kids it’s all about self expression, proving your individuality and feeling empowered… or just having someplace to go when you couldn’t be home and you felt noone else accepted you… but what happens when you grow up?I think because I never fully embraced the “punk” image, always teetering on the edge with my love and admiration for it but my fear of committing to the “label”, it was a bit easier for me to let things go… Keep the good and shed the unnecessary.I kept the music.  I kept the ideals.  I kept the unity I felt with my friends and family.  I kept the positive energy and the excitement.  I discarded the leather 😉  I discarded the drugs (which thankfully I never used).  I discarded the anger. Unfortunately with the things that I’d left behind, I also lost some friends…Some people couldn’t get past the drugs and alcohol.  Couldn’t get past the image.  Couldn’t get past the parties.  They never found that balance in themselves to keep the positive and step away from the negative.  You know those people… the ones that you’d love to reconnect with but you’re afraid to see what they’ve done with themselves.  Or maybe you heard some terrible rumors about how they’ve gone off the edge.  Maybe they’re in jail?  Maybe they’ve committed suicide… Maybe they shut you out because they know you’ll want them to do better for themselves.I’ve lost friends and family to drugs, alcohol, suicide and even murder.It’s not just the punk kids. There are people like that in every genre.  People we love but we can’t reach.  They get stuck in their adolescent angst and their inability to grow and learn from the horrible things that may have happened to them or simply what they’ve done to themselves.We love them.  We want them to grow, but sometimes there’s just nothing we can do.  Sometimes they have to learn for themselves…. or never learn at all.Growing up, my punk ass friends were my family.  They still are.  We still get together on occasion and rock out to the same songs that we used to listen to when we were kids, talking about ideals and the crazy ass world we live in.  We may dress different, we may still dress the same, but we love each other because we grew together through those times and we’re happy that we still have each other.  Nobody knows me like they do.So… yeah.  I may dress business casual Monday – Friday, get my trendy latte and tone down on the cursing, but I feel pretty damn comfortable saying that at heart I’m still that goofy little punk kid.Long story short…Punk to me has always been about unity.  I like it that way.

Originally posted here http://evangelina.posterous.com/my-thoughts-on-the-punk-scene