Sometimes, I really fucking hate your past.
My stomachaches aren't going away.
Just because i'm not dwelling doesnt mean its not there.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Plug In and Press Play.
Sorry that its taken me so long to post, i guess i haven't really had much to say. Although i keep having a few instances where i could babble on about something pointless although i feel if i did that, i'd be wasting my time and yours. Although finally, while sitting on the bus today i came to miss something i never really acknowledged before. So i would like for this to be my temporary goodbye, not with an undertone of saddness but moreso a belief that our meeting helped me become who i am today.
I grew up listening to music that i found suitable to my needs, just as we all do as we develop our own likes and dislikes. It became almost a vice that i would run back to in times of need, distress, angst, sadness or even happiness. The reason i became so transfixed was because of my steadfast commitment to the feeling of connection i developed between the sound traveling through my ears, and the message the author was sending. Moreover (a term my cousin likes to abuse), this connection became a type of therapy. Not to sit and complain about past instances but this relationship i had formed was my means of coping.
My experience would confine me pleasantly in my own existence, subtracting everything save my emotions, my headphones and the music. I would literally become happily alone. Not that this was a means of getting away from my problems, but quite the contrary, it was a means for me to sort, categorize, and develop strategies that would help me alleviate the problems that would be plaguing me.
Through this connection i developed with music i conquered some of the most devastating issues i have ever experienced, as an example when I was traveling south on the ontario northland buslines to visit my ailing grandmother and i received the call that she had passed and that i was never was able to say my goodbyes, i quietly put on my headphones, turned on some dashboard and cried. Music took me away from the evident problems i was facing, and replaced it with nothing but pure, uncorrupted emotion. I cried just that once about her passing and never again. I didn't need to. Music helped me develop the strong, rock of an emotional self i wasn't aware i owned. My connection was a way to deal with the weight of the world, and break it down into sections and deal with it individually.
Although im aware i still have my deep problems as does everyone else, my connection with music helped stablize the self that i am developing. Hopefully with this, Albert Camus would believe this to be a proper act of self-love...
Then, on one late fall day (the reasons i remember this will remain my own) i had, recognizably, my last connection with music.
I love now in a unique way, mostly void of anything other then her and our profound connection.
I cry now during the consumption of booze, or the times i pick up my mothers book.
I revel in the depressed manner that helps me cheer up almost never. Maybe less because of my loss of Music, and moreso with the concept of growing up and growing older.
I miss now, in a means that makes me write, and less in ways that make me seek solitude.
This is why i feel i have lost my connection with music. I dont believe it is lost forever, because i scratch the surface from time to time listening to songs like "Echo", "Let Go", and "Bubbly" although i feel like, in a manner of speaking, i'm passing it on unknowingly.
I believe that my art is not lost, but being formulated now in a way that will forever be a means of overcoming, and rejoicing. I believe, as i'm writing, that this will be a gift i hope to pass on to my children. From my soul to theres. I believe my better-half has this same understanding and connection with music as i do, which gives me no doubt that they will have SOME relationship with the one thing we can relate over even after i pass... Music.
A good friend of mine once said, 'after i pass i'll miss only one thing... the songs i'll never hear.' I wish i had a repsonse in which to give him some sort of comfort. Although i now believe that his connection with music wont be short lived, but through his children, and theirs, there will remain that everchanging, everpresent connection with beautiful music.
Therefore i guess with this... i'm more happy then sad. By hoping that one day my children might throw on a set of headphones, relax and be removed from all that troubles them.
Here's to hoping, Cheers.
I grew up listening to music that i found suitable to my needs, just as we all do as we develop our own likes and dislikes. It became almost a vice that i would run back to in times of need, distress, angst, sadness or even happiness. The reason i became so transfixed was because of my steadfast commitment to the feeling of connection i developed between the sound traveling through my ears, and the message the author was sending. Moreover (a term my cousin likes to abuse), this connection became a type of therapy. Not to sit and complain about past instances but this relationship i had formed was my means of coping.
My experience would confine me pleasantly in my own existence, subtracting everything save my emotions, my headphones and the music. I would literally become happily alone. Not that this was a means of getting away from my problems, but quite the contrary, it was a means for me to sort, categorize, and develop strategies that would help me alleviate the problems that would be plaguing me.
Through this connection i developed with music i conquered some of the most devastating issues i have ever experienced, as an example when I was traveling south on the ontario northland buslines to visit my ailing grandmother and i received the call that she had passed and that i was never was able to say my goodbyes, i quietly put on my headphones, turned on some dashboard and cried. Music took me away from the evident problems i was facing, and replaced it with nothing but pure, uncorrupted emotion. I cried just that once about her passing and never again. I didn't need to. Music helped me develop the strong, rock of an emotional self i wasn't aware i owned. My connection was a way to deal with the weight of the world, and break it down into sections and deal with it individually.
Although im aware i still have my deep problems as does everyone else, my connection with music helped stablize the self that i am developing. Hopefully with this, Albert Camus would believe this to be a proper act of self-love...
Then, on one late fall day (the reasons i remember this will remain my own) i had, recognizably, my last connection with music.
I love now in a unique way, mostly void of anything other then her and our profound connection.
I cry now during the consumption of booze, or the times i pick up my mothers book.
I revel in the depressed manner that helps me cheer up almost never. Maybe less because of my loss of Music, and moreso with the concept of growing up and growing older.
I miss now, in a means that makes me write, and less in ways that make me seek solitude.
This is why i feel i have lost my connection with music. I dont believe it is lost forever, because i scratch the surface from time to time listening to songs like "Echo", "Let Go", and "Bubbly" although i feel like, in a manner of speaking, i'm passing it on unknowingly.
I believe that my art is not lost, but being formulated now in a way that will forever be a means of overcoming, and rejoicing. I believe, as i'm writing, that this will be a gift i hope to pass on to my children. From my soul to theres. I believe my better-half has this same understanding and connection with music as i do, which gives me no doubt that they will have SOME relationship with the one thing we can relate over even after i pass... Music.
A good friend of mine once said, 'after i pass i'll miss only one thing... the songs i'll never hear.' I wish i had a repsonse in which to give him some sort of comfort. Although i now believe that his connection with music wont be short lived, but through his children, and theirs, there will remain that everchanging, everpresent connection with beautiful music.
Therefore i guess with this... i'm more happy then sad. By hoping that one day my children might throw on a set of headphones, relax and be removed from all that troubles them.
Here's to hoping, Cheers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)