Why I Could Do This With My Eyes Closed

I was walking up the stairs. Oh, those stairs, where you're shoulder to shoulder with people whose names and faces mean nothing to you. (I can be a bit of a misanthrope, sometimes.) I had headphones in. It's hard to be "attached" to something when it's always abandoning you. I have had three different iPods. First one, broke. Second, stolen in physics class last year. Third, vanished at a friend's house. (Not stolen, vanished. I swear.) So it's pretty easy for me to give up on my musical connections when I am barely "connected." But I have my phone. It holds a small amount of music, but it's something until I get a new iPod (and the cycle repeats). But popping in headphones for a whole class (like I used to) made me see things brighter. I was disconnected, back in the arms of Music. It felt good. My brain cells weren't bouncing off my cerebral walls. It was like having the first cigarette months after quitting. (Can't really know what that's like, but hey, good comparison.)

"Quitting" tastes horrible in my mouth. That word burns my music-filled lungs. I hate the idea that, for some time now, I haven't been connected to music. I've gotten the feeling that it doesn't matter, because music comes out of me as well as it goes in, maybe more so. But having music IN me again changed my thinking. Suddenly I had my focus back. I could pinpoint the tasks at hand and execute them. I even felt like making conversation with people (haha, first time for everything). Whatever the case, I had some odd strength about me. It was addicting.

Hearing music is different than having it at the forefront of your ears, where no one else can cut through. Music gets a VIP seat to the show that is me. And once it's there, everything else makes sense. Even math. (Math making sense. Imagine that!)

Writing with music is something to behold. Right now I've got Alesana's new album spinning in my ears. For that I will remember this experience in the midst of a week that will ask a lot of me. I'm working tonight till 10, tomorrow till 10, and the day after till 10. Friday, I turn 18. (Whoa....WHAT?!) Going to Blake's house for a movie night instead of having a big party. Bringing Bridget with me. It'll be the first time for her meeting some of my friends. A few of them she's met before. Regardless, I'm excited. Then Saturday I'm going to Worlds of Fun with my family and my best friend, Paul. Eighteen will be a great year.

If I had to choose between ears and eyes, I would without a doubt choose ears. Having that always agreeable voice in my ears, backing everything I do, helping me make decisions, giving me the light my eyes simply cannot...I can't live without it. I'm back to headphones for good. My "internal" iPod, as much as I love it, cannot suffice for all the times I'm feeling lost. I'm finally realizing that I cannot write every song I've ever heard in a single thought. (Since this is writing, not talking, I take this time to reveal some information about me that I'm uncomfortable speaking of.) I have perfect pitch. I can hear notes, tell you the letter (A, B, C, D, E, F, G), sharp or flat. Doesn't matter, I've had this ability all my life. I can memorize songs, pitches, just by listening to them once. I can learn songs on guitar by listening to them a few times. When people ask me, "What songs can you play?" I have no idea how the hell to answer them. I don't keep track. Most of the popular songs I can play, I learn by accident while screwing around or jamming.

I hate telling people all of this, because it makes me feel like I don't deserve any of the music I've written. I feel so unworthy of music as a whole, and that's why I continually run to it, whether mentally, or audibly. Lately I've been running to it mentally more than audibly, but I know now that both are important. You can't write a great book without reading a good one first. Music listening strengthens the voice of your music. It's like adding influences to your collection of experience. It's something that will change you, in some way, big or small. I am currently being changed in a big way, by the sweet sounds of Alesana's new album. (This is the part where I try not to sound stereotypical or cliche.) You need to experience this for yourself. don't let me tell you it's important, or it's life-changing. Listen to music, but do it to see with your ears what your eyes could never show you. Get the whole picture, because the one in your mind is still in progress, and it will remain that way till the day we die. Keep taking in, so that you can keep putting out. There is never a point where influence from others won't help you. Not just in music, in all forms of art and in life in general.

Take what is given, listen to it, and love it because someone else imagined it for you. Because as long as it's original, it's something you never would have thought. Everyone has something else to bring to the table. Again, big or small, doens't matter. Some people completely change the world of music you think you know. Artists have done it multiple times throughout history. It takes one mind to influence many. I can't stay in the bubble of my mind's own symphony. I have to let other artists in and let them mold me, while I'm still in control, because I can never stop appreciating their creations. I'm done being selfish.

Life. I could do it with my eyes closed. As long as I have a good set of ears. But I can't rely of any part of me to account for the rest. Open eyes. Open ears. Music heals.

An Observance 9/30/11

Simply, tomorrow is October! What happened?! September is gone. Today is it. After this bright, beautiful day there is no more September 2011.
Seriously, holy shit! It's THAT time of year. No, it's not fall. It's only the time of year I LIVE FOR. (Sorry, I'll calm down.)

Anyway, here's another observance...I'm actually really tired. (You wouldn't know that by the above paragraphs, because I don't sound tired.) Maybe in word we're the opposite of what we are in person? Like, if I were relaxed, I'd be able to write something dark and chaotic. When I'm stressed I write about simple things. These writings never fail to balance me out.

Then there's crap like this...that doesn't mean anything. This is when I'm tired and don't feel like writing, but I just do it. It's not vomit. It's just whatever comes to mind, as long as I don't pass out before my fingers hit the keyboard. I didn't necessarily need to write this instant, but it was fun.

So that's it...people write to balance their emotions. In writing and in person, those emotions are met halfway and blended. Both sides are important. They both deserve to be nurtured. Maybe the lesson for me is that my "in person" side should be nurtured a little more? After all, I need something to write about. (I don't expect anyone to fall in love with these psychotic rants of mine.)

Observance.

Why I Let My Guard Down

Recently I've been feeling pretty great. Senior year has been a breeze so far. And I've made it that way. I have chosen a stress-free road, for the most part. Maybe the biggest thing I learned from junior year: freaking out will make even the smallest issues seem huge. School isn't a huge issue for me currently. I have mostly A's and B's. Also, I'm done caring about other people as an outsider. Because there is no "inside" - it's just a giant group of people, all doing their own thing, literally...

But every so often, a few things here and there will get to me, and that familiar friend from junior year will creep up uninvited...stress. It's not like you can ever kill it completely. Even old retired people have stress in some ways, maybe on a smaller scale. But it's nice knowing that I've learned how to deal with it. If the level I'm on now were to stay this level forever, I'd be okay. I feel like things are going to stay about the same, or get much harder...in the future, that is.

Today I let me guard down for half a second. I let stress stare me in the face for a few moments. It freaked me out. His face was ugly and creepy, but I let him pass, instead of inviting him. Now he's out tormenting someone else. It's not my problem. Beautiful. I was in a pickle because my mom still hasn't set up the senior picture thing, and today's the last day or something like that. But regardless, it all got settled. I don't have real problems. I have small, fun, "senior" problems. I love 'em all. I feel like the kid I probably would've hated freshman year. If you can't beat them, join them. Or in this case, "stop caring so much, because there is no 'them' - just a large group of people in a building, all kids doing their own thing at all times." The great truth, children, is that there is nothing to fit in to, ever. Only an ocean (a building, a cafeteria), and it's usually big enough for us all. If you're there, you're there. Some people don't even make it that far. Be proud of where you are, whether you feel like you belong there or not.

Right now, I'm in a hallway, typing away on a laptop. Like a loner. And I love it. I fit in perfectly. I wouldn't be here if it weren't true. "Great times ahead." These are those times.

No stress. Much love.

Rough Poem: "Peace Within, Peace Without"

It's today. Today's the day.
Oh God, could it be today?
Today's a way in which I'll fail
I've jumped a boat without a sail
Destined to die at sea today
Oh God, things look dim today
Today, Today, can't do this today
I might as well stay in bed and pray
That I do not become the hunter's prey
Because I'm being watched, hunted, stalked
The hour has passed, don't look at the clock
They know I'll fail, they know I'll snap
It seems to me I'm under attack
No sleep, no food, haven't showered in days
Put me in a coma, I hate this phase
I want to sleep through it, leave it behind
But the thought of today is still sharp in my mind
And the pain is like blood, a gorey display
Of the wretched, horrid decay of today
I don't want it to be this way
But no matter how long, today is the day
Today Today, today is the day
Today is the day I go out and pray
Pray that I might live to see
The better than best in you and me
But I'm afraid, afraid of these days
These days I have to go and face
The world that hates my everything
And tries to silence me when I sing
Kills the vocals in my lungs
Slits my throat and cuts my tongue
And still, the bitter day is young
Today, today, today
Tomorrow, and the next, and the next
And the next, and the day after,
Then the week, the month, the year
The decade and the lifetime...

From a distance this sounds horribly cliche. As a whole I think it could be something worth reading. With MANY improvements, corrections, etc. Oh, and it's not finished. It's about halfway done, lengthwise.

Why I Can Never Be Sure

It's blogtime! Here we go....

This is one of those moments where nothing really makes sense. I'm in English. Almost the whole class is in groups. I'm working alone. Totally okay with it. Kind of.

I am finding that I am introverted to the extreme. I am constantly in my own mind. "Retracting." It's hard not to be. Wherever I go, I'm usually uncomfortable with myself. Even at home, I can't always be myself. The only person I can truly be myself with is my mother. Honestly, I can be whoever the hell I am in front of her, and not be held back by anything. We have a great relationship. Something I'd never ever trade.

But in the real world, I just can't be sure. Of anything. I used to know exactly what I was doing, until I started wondering why I did. Wondering why I possessed such firm beliefs. So I stopped standing so tall on those beliefs. I started slouching. And I everything else followed. Grades. Relationships. Confidence. Self-esteem. I guess I had something beautiful and then lost it. Besides my mother, I could be myself in front of God. He didn't care, because I cared for Him. I let Him know who I was FOR Him. He just smiled and let it happen, because I was doing something right for once.

Now I do my own thing. Yes, I do. No matter how much I want to deny it, I have been walking alone for some time now. God has still been there. He never leaves. It was me leaving. Even in the times that I wasn't sure before, God would take care of my non-understanding. He would meet me more than halfway. That insurance I had before is gone. Because everything else has taken His place at number one in my life.

It makes me sick, but it's something I had to put into words. I used to let God walk me through the storm. Now I've been making storms of my own, leaving God out entirely. I have been fucking up everything I touch, and blaming it all on the world. It's not the world's fault. It's definitely not God's. It's mine. I am to blame for forsaking the only truly good thing in my life. And I am desperately in need of an uprooting.

No one can ever be sure of anything beyond this life. All we know is all we're given. But putting the Most High, the most good person you'll ever find, above all else, will seal the cracks for good. Keep Him there, you'll be who I once was. Walk away, and you'll blind yourself. I need His eyes seeing for me again, His ears hearing, and His mouth speaking. If I can't come back, then I'm already dead. Blind. Deaf. and Mute. I would ask you to take a look at who God is, but I wouldn't know. My eyes are closed. I can't take the speck out of your eye. There's a plank in mine. I have no clue what to tell you, because I only listen to myself. And I am the biggest hypocrite I've ever been. God help me. Light my path. I can't keep stumbling in the darkness.

Take a Look, Said the Blind Man

Why I Can Tune Out People and Things That Make Noise

I live in a house that is loud nearly all the time. Everyday someone is screaming at someone else ("someone" usually meaning my little brother and/or sister). Then my mom or my dad will jump in. (Hey, let's yell at our kids, then maybe they'll stop yelling! GENIUS. :/) Anyway, loudness. Or as Steve Carell would say... "LOUUUD NOISES!"

I'm used to it. It sucks, but I'm used to it. I'm not always able to concentrate, but if nothing else, I can retract into my inner thoughts. My mind is like a shell to a turtle. Give it a pair of headphones, some food, and a notebook...you've got one happy turtle.

Tuning out is an art. I don't know why it's not offered in college as a major. In a world full of so many useless noises and waste-of-time conversations, it's important to have selective hearing. As dictator-like as this sounds, it's so true in many cases. We just don't have time, or at least I don't, for the yelling, the vent making funny noises, the arguments, the lies. Listen to the poor. Listen to the rich. Leave the fools in their ditch.

Again, as important as I believe it is to give everyone's words a chance, don't invest your time in nonsense. And don't mistake genius for nonsense. Sometimes I lend too much attention to the wrong sources. Sometimes I don't share my ears enough. It takes an open mind to master the art of tuning out. Because you have to know when to tune back in. Fair enough.

One mouth. Two Ears. SHUT UP.

Why The Grass Is Green(er)

Most of us are staring at a fence. Most of us can't climb that fence. So we'd rather go through it; knock it down, or carve a hole big enough to crawl through. Some of us are on the same side of the fence, while others reside beyond it, on the other side.

They say the grass is greener on the other side. But here's the thing...I'M on the other side. I've been there my whole life. The grass is green over here, yes. But so is yours. And I've been trying to get to the other side, just like you. Wanna trade sides?

Now you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Basically, there is no "greener." There are only different shades of green. No matter what side of what fence, no matter how green you think the grass might be, you're all equal. There's nothing separating the ghetto from the rich neighborhood...except that damned fence. Without fences, walls, gates, the land is all the same. And so are the people. "All men are created equal." It's where they go that changes.

Don't hop the fence or climb over the gate to get to your friend's castle. No. If you want to live like a king, BUILD a castle. Make your side of the fence the one with the greener grass. Or, love the shade of green that's already there. There is no higher or lower. The ground is level. The only value of said ground is that which you place upon it. If it weren't for fences, we'd all be equal again, like we were created to be. Green grass. Castles.