When I was a kid, I felt like I could do anything and play anything. I just felt super-confident. And then, once I started to play music professionally, maybe it's from being from a small town, but you grow up and then you're suddenly a big fish in a small pond, and I realized that there were a billion other drummers out there that could play as good as you or better, and everybody wants that job.

You don't really think that things will ever get better, but they do. People always ask me, "What would you say to gay teen youth that are suicidal, or someone who is addicted right now?," and it's hard to say with words that things will change, but they do.

For a person that's on tour, the environment is difficult. I don't want to come off sounding like, "Oh, it's so hard!," but it gets tough, after awhile. You need to take care of yourself. You need to sleep and you need to eat. Those things are hard to keep on any kind of routine.

No one really listens to the drums, I don't think. They're there, but it's not a conscious thing to listen to. Everyone listens to the vocals, of course, and the words.

Talking about music and talking about drums brings me back to my beginning and the simplicity, and the excitement about trying to play something and see if it works for your band.

You've really got to keep on improving and improving and improving. It still involves work. It's not like you get to a point, and then you're good and that's it.

I always wanted to play music, and always loved it. I saw a band come to school, when I was in elementary school, and wanted to play drums. I started playing drums at 11, and that's where it all started.