I'm sure all of us have those humorous contradictions about ourselves that not only can we not explain to ourselves, but not to other people either. For instance, I love ketchup but I hate tomatoes. I love red and orange, but not yellow. But a contradiction I found right on my own iPod is this...I am a steadfast fan of 90's country music, and generally baulk at pop-country, but yet sometimes I find my thumb spinning on that white wheel, selecting a Shania Twain or Faith Hill song, and abruptly the mountain pine scented twangs and sweet melodies of Patty Loveless give way to electric guitars, sugar-coated lyrics that pop into your ears and roll around your tongue like so many sugar cookies crumbling in your mouth.
Not that I'm saying the mostly traditional 90's country music I listen to - or at least what I consider to be true country - is the complete opposite of decadently crumbling sugar cookies topped with crimson and white sugar morsels, but I guess when I think of Faith Hill's song The Way You Love Me and This Kiss I just imagine her writing the song - or whoever wrote it - inventing the lyrics amidst a glimmering, growing pile of Hershey's Kisses wrappers and yes, more sugar cookies. Another funny thing is, is that up until a few year ago I never even liked This Kiss. Now? It's not only on my iPod, but it's elbowed its way to that elite number of songs that is always right there whenever I turn it on, waiting to be selected, or jump into line whenever I select shuffle.
So, what is it about these 90's pop-country songs I find so appealing? Why, after so many years of either turning down the volume or switching stations whenever This Kiss or even Shania Twain came on? To help answer this question, perhaps I should go back to how I began listening to country in the first place. And since I have covered such a story before, I'll try to practice brevity. Don't think I didn't see you roll your eyes just now. Practice brevity? Really? Yes! I said it, and this time I'm keeping a firm grip on this train, I won't let it derail onto yet another weed-tangled, shadow-drenched path where no doubt tantalizing metaphors and stories await but...they'll still be there, stored away in some already overstuffed filing cabinet in my mind. Think of them as that junk you have on the floor of your closet, or stuffed in the attic. You feel its weight, its presence of just being there, but for what? You know the day after you get rid of it, you'll know, and that's exactly when you wish you had that frustration back, that pain of turning away from it, even as it accumulates like dust beneath your bed.
Well, that was a minor derailing, fixed with but a little nudge. See! Back on track already! As I was saying, I was going to address how I got to listening to country music. Well, the condensed version is this: one night a friend - also a country music listener - decided to play a Shania Twain song, and also a favorite Big & Rich song. Instantly I loved both songs and went out and bought the albums, and thus opened up my exposure to country music. Now obviously you can see such exposure was all pop oriented, and thus would why - when I received my first iPod - I compiled lists full of songs by...Taylor Swift. Now, thankfully, I know better, and my iPod is free of her music, but I've found over the past two years I've grown to love Shania Twain again, but ironically I rarely listen to Big & Rich anymore. Perhaps it's their style of music that wears on me, or perhaps I've just simply outgrown them, like I have with Jump5's music. Albeit I will confess I still listen to their 2002 hit All I Can Do on YouTube every once in a while. I'll warn you right now, that songs rivals the strongest drug out there by way of addiction. And back in middle school and early high school, I was addicted!
So perhaps because I was introduced to country music via the pop side of it, such is the reason I find myself listening to This Kiss and The Way You Love Me. Perhaps this time around, being wiser in the ways of Nashville and what true country music is - again to me, anyway - I can revisit the pop side of country and make my selections, steering clear of the artists Nashville has labeled country when the only thing country about them is the cowboy boots and...I'll get back to you on the second one. I was going to say acoustic guitar, but that's just too vague isn't it? Every bloody performer out there about uses an acoustic guitar? I believe Nashville is blurring the lines on country music, opening its doors wide and allowing talentless groups and solo-artists to come stumbling over their thresholds, drunk on the prospect of making a buck and a life on meaningless songs and hiding behind a false facade of make-up and skimpy clothes.
Okay, I know, cynical me climbing out onto the balcony for a little screaming over my normal voice modestly calling out today's blog, but no worries, I've shoved her back into her room and locked the door. I must admit though, that did feel rather good. But then again, I feel like somewhat of a hypocrite, talking down Nashville's current antics and its bludgeoning of country music, when I myself listen to music labeled as country but so far removed from it that if such songs were apples fallen from the first tree of country, you'd be standing in an open field, not an apple tree in sight. Then I remind myself, that's 90's pop country you're listening to, back when artists produced true music and had true talent, and I find myself thinking "yeah! After all, it's not like I listen to today's pop-country right? At least not as regularly and in bulk as I do with the 90's material. So there again, is a story to be told. And I could in fact argue against my feeling like a hypocrite by saying: albeit pop-country in the 90's still wasn't country in the purest sense, but at least back then artists like Faith Hill and Shania Twain had actual talent! I haven't tuned in to a country radio station in probably a year or more because of the deterioration of the material being played.
I think I've addressed all of this before in a past blog post, so I don't want to get into a whole music rant again. But I guess what I will say about particular artists is this: Tim McGraw's 90's and early 2000's albums were amazing. In fact, his albums All I Want Is A Life - 90's - and his 2002 album Set This Circus Down are my two favorites by him. why? Because that was when he was caught up in the magic of the 90's, and the magic of 90's pop-music. Now? I can't stand to listen to the singles he has. And albeit I realize it's all personal preference, and yes my love affair with all things old - and basically from the 90's - might be more than a little influence for the strong stance I have - I can recognize a surrendering to Nashville's current plight when I hear it, and I'm sure I'm not alone on this. I go back to the 90's because - to me at least - that was when so many artists were in their pinnacle, including Tim McGraw. What happened? I would like to ask him myself. Of course, he probably wouldn't see anything wrong, as would millions of other fans filling up his concerts and buying his latest album.
Which makes me feel like a minority, which in inevitably how I normally feel whenever I voice my tastes in music, TV shows, and other interests. I know my brother has criticized me more than once on such tastes and interests. I mean, just look at Nashville today, and even at pop-music without the 'flimsy country label' attached to it, there's even less talent there - again, just my opinion. But that's what the public is demanding, and thus that is what the record companies produce. All those artists I love and listen to today, had their glory days int he 90's, and now? Their like old dusty records and awards stowed away in the attic, sometimes falling out of moldy boxes and crates to weight upon the minds of the aged musicians and singers they belong to, to perhaps urge them to do something, or just remind them that music once was honorable, and full of talented people, and it can be that way again.
I hope that didn't sound too dramatic, and I also hope I didn't sound too forceful in my opinions. Because frankly, I'm not that way in the least. Obviously, I have digressed more than a little, but at least I kept to the subject of music right? To close, whatever my reason for listening to This Kiss when there was a time when I couldn't stand it, I can sleep at night knowing now I am armed with knowledge against country music's current deception and can crank a Patty Loveless tune, or perhaps Pam Tillis, Suzy Bogguss, or any other of those artists that weight against the floorboards of my own attic, my memory full of 90's relics that still shine brilliantly underneath their thick blankets of dust.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Rubber on my feet!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebt0BR5wHYs (This is a link to Eddie Rabbitt's song I Love A Rainy Night) Once you read further into today's blog post you'll realize why I posted the link! Enjoy!
Thanks to Wisconsin finally thawing out and shrugging off that stiff and constantly mildewed sweater of winter - albeit temporarily I'm afraid, but any allowance for breathing space is favorable right? - I was able to break out my rain boots for the last two days.
Now I love wearing my winter boots as much as the next girl, not to mention scarves. Oh, the scarves! But there is something about rain boots that ushers in tentative thoughts of...dare I say it? Warmer weather! Yes, I did it. I just mentioned the term warmer weather in the middle of February, at the tail end of a Wisconsin winter. Albeit since when has any Wisconsin winter paid any mind to when the calendar announces its end? Winter will invariably barrel right past March 21st like a drunk glancing casually up at the red stop light, pondering fleetingly upon its meaning, but then his mind is shoved ahead by that churning amber tidal wave, demanding it to pay that light no mind, it has no significance to you.
Okay, so the Wisconsin winter isn't a drunk, but sometimes I wonder if it doesn't get completely giddy on its own havoc as it swirls, drifts, buries, hisses up against windows, and layers upon the earth its own breath and fur. But perhaps once it has danced in its frozen rain and listened to its laughter lost amongst the howling, funneling winds...it steps back and observes the placid silence falling like an invisible thick coastal fog upon its glistening blanket, every sound is muffled beneath the layers, for a moment the world is unified, imperfections obscured, all roads whether dilapidated rural or sleek urban pathways are the same.
Well, didn't mean to jump on the metaphorical/imagination train there and just abandon what I was going to talk about: which is the joy wearing my rain boots gives me, and how rain in general is prominent in music and thus has an impact on my life. But then again, what did I expect to happen when I jump on the literary horse and let it guide me rather than vice versa? But again, like the Mustang pounding his half-circle imprints into the red, Nevada dust...my literary horse was meant to be unharnessed and free of impression and guide. After all, somehow I always end fairly close to my intended route, right? And just imagine if I did in fact harness this literary horse of mine, would I have ever found all of the magical and truly inspirational places I have stumbled upon in my wanderlust blog posts? I think not. There I go with the the rhetorical questions again. Perhaps I am more predictable than I thought. But can one be predictable in a random, completely unguided sort of way? Well, that's definitely not a rhetorical question is it?
Anyway, back to the glory of rain boots! A couple years ago I found myself having an itch to buy a pair. How said itch came to be is beyond me, but I am glad I acquired it because now I get to wear my rain boots to class! And yes, I do much enjoy the way the rubber flaps around my legs and causes people to look down as I walk by as if wondering "what's that strange, flapping sound"? And yes, I do intentionally hunt down each and every puddle, regardless of depth, size and location just so I can splash through it - modestly of course! After all, that's what rain boots are for, are they not? For my rain boots to never encounter water is like never bringing your dog to the beach when every time he glimpses it, whether it be on TV, in a sparkling photograph or even from his favorite window of the car his ears snap up and his slobbering lips curl into a smile.
But it's not just the excuse to splash through puddles that I wear my rain boots. I also wear them as a quirky fashion statement! You see, my rain boots are black with multi-colored dots on them, mostly light blue, red, orange, purple and light green. It doesn't matter if they match what clothes I'm wearing, if I feel like wearing them, I will. It also doesn't matter if they're quite awkward to walk up the daily dose of stairs I encounter on my way to class, albeit I'll admit that is a trifle annoying. But...I need the exercise anyway right?
Speaking of fashion statements, it's funny how come spring time each of us embraces fashion choices that winter forced out of our closets in it's usual brazen, ignorant matter. Now, seemingly we're all itching to wear those blue tights with gray-tweed Bermuda shorts, and cut-out black tights with butt-length t-shirt and beat-up combat boots. Both outfits, by the way, I have seen on two girls that sit in front of me in one of my English classes. The girl with the combat boots is especially interesting, she never disappoints me with her outfits. Every Tuesday and Thursday I wait to see what she will wear. And albeit I don't think I'd wear such outfits as she does unless I decided to transition to Side B of me, but I admire her taste in fashion nonetheless. For standing out in the crowd, for embracing her own Side B.
And perhaps my choice to wear my floppy rain boots to class is my own small way of embracing my Side B. After all, like I've established before when going more in depth into this whole Side B concept, that I am in fact too reserved and conscious of myself to ever fully embrace totally the outfits I have conjured up in my mind for that dusty, rarely played side of the tape. But thankfully there are enigmatic, eclectic and any other 'e' word you can think of characters to provide an outlet for this Side B of me and thus she can play herself on the tape deck again and again every time I had another chapter to a story, or put pen to paper another story thought forming a solid fog from mere wisps of leftover morning dew in my mind.
And there's the writing metaphor! I guess one can be predictable in a no-boundaries sort of way. Well, they say you learn something new every day right?
Well, I must say, it feels good to talk about clothes again, and rain boots, and Side B of me, and of course writing and such. I feel like no matter how scatterbrained each blog post may be there are always minute connective fibers running through them all. After all, I just managed to reference several past blog posts today didn't I? To end today's post, I'll see if I can't post a favorite Eddie Rabbitt tune of mine called I Love A Rainy Night. One night while perusing YouTube one of those rare and odd sparks ignited in my brain like an old flickering light bulb finally exploding in some dim, rarely trod corridor in the back of my mind and it illuminated and equally dusty and rusted-out filing cabinet that was labeled...forgotten, favorite songs. Kind of an oxymoron don't you think? How can a song be forgotten when it's a favorite? Well folks, unfortunately it happens on my iPod all the time.
So anyway, that was just a typical rambling way of me saying I'd completely forgotten about Eddie Rabbitt's awesome song until roughly a month ago and now every time I'm on YouTube I listen to. Give it a listen and maybe you'll understand why. I feel it sums up partially how I feel about rain and how it makes me feel. I hope listening to this song puts you in the middle of a rainy night, and you find yourself tapping along, or maybe even singing!
Thanks to Wisconsin finally thawing out and shrugging off that stiff and constantly mildewed sweater of winter - albeit temporarily I'm afraid, but any allowance for breathing space is favorable right? - I was able to break out my rain boots for the last two days.
Now I love wearing my winter boots as much as the next girl, not to mention scarves. Oh, the scarves! But there is something about rain boots that ushers in tentative thoughts of...dare I say it? Warmer weather! Yes, I did it. I just mentioned the term warmer weather in the middle of February, at the tail end of a Wisconsin winter. Albeit since when has any Wisconsin winter paid any mind to when the calendar announces its end? Winter will invariably barrel right past March 21st like a drunk glancing casually up at the red stop light, pondering fleetingly upon its meaning, but then his mind is shoved ahead by that churning amber tidal wave, demanding it to pay that light no mind, it has no significance to you.
Okay, so the Wisconsin winter isn't a drunk, but sometimes I wonder if it doesn't get completely giddy on its own havoc as it swirls, drifts, buries, hisses up against windows, and layers upon the earth its own breath and fur. But perhaps once it has danced in its frozen rain and listened to its laughter lost amongst the howling, funneling winds...it steps back and observes the placid silence falling like an invisible thick coastal fog upon its glistening blanket, every sound is muffled beneath the layers, for a moment the world is unified, imperfections obscured, all roads whether dilapidated rural or sleek urban pathways are the same.
Well, didn't mean to jump on the metaphorical/imagination train there and just abandon what I was going to talk about: which is the joy wearing my rain boots gives me, and how rain in general is prominent in music and thus has an impact on my life. But then again, what did I expect to happen when I jump on the literary horse and let it guide me rather than vice versa? But again, like the Mustang pounding his half-circle imprints into the red, Nevada dust...my literary horse was meant to be unharnessed and free of impression and guide. After all, somehow I always end fairly close to my intended route, right? And just imagine if I did in fact harness this literary horse of mine, would I have ever found all of the magical and truly inspirational places I have stumbled upon in my wanderlust blog posts? I think not. There I go with the the rhetorical questions again. Perhaps I am more predictable than I thought. But can one be predictable in a random, completely unguided sort of way? Well, that's definitely not a rhetorical question is it?
Anyway, back to the glory of rain boots! A couple years ago I found myself having an itch to buy a pair. How said itch came to be is beyond me, but I am glad I acquired it because now I get to wear my rain boots to class! And yes, I do much enjoy the way the rubber flaps around my legs and causes people to look down as I walk by as if wondering "what's that strange, flapping sound"? And yes, I do intentionally hunt down each and every puddle, regardless of depth, size and location just so I can splash through it - modestly of course! After all, that's what rain boots are for, are they not? For my rain boots to never encounter water is like never bringing your dog to the beach when every time he glimpses it, whether it be on TV, in a sparkling photograph or even from his favorite window of the car his ears snap up and his slobbering lips curl into a smile.
But it's not just the excuse to splash through puddles that I wear my rain boots. I also wear them as a quirky fashion statement! You see, my rain boots are black with multi-colored dots on them, mostly light blue, red, orange, purple and light green. It doesn't matter if they match what clothes I'm wearing, if I feel like wearing them, I will. It also doesn't matter if they're quite awkward to walk up the daily dose of stairs I encounter on my way to class, albeit I'll admit that is a trifle annoying. But...I need the exercise anyway right?
Speaking of fashion statements, it's funny how come spring time each of us embraces fashion choices that winter forced out of our closets in it's usual brazen, ignorant matter. Now, seemingly we're all itching to wear those blue tights with gray-tweed Bermuda shorts, and cut-out black tights with butt-length t-shirt and beat-up combat boots. Both outfits, by the way, I have seen on two girls that sit in front of me in one of my English classes. The girl with the combat boots is especially interesting, she never disappoints me with her outfits. Every Tuesday and Thursday I wait to see what she will wear. And albeit I don't think I'd wear such outfits as she does unless I decided to transition to Side B of me, but I admire her taste in fashion nonetheless. For standing out in the crowd, for embracing her own Side B.
And perhaps my choice to wear my floppy rain boots to class is my own small way of embracing my Side B. After all, like I've established before when going more in depth into this whole Side B concept, that I am in fact too reserved and conscious of myself to ever fully embrace totally the outfits I have conjured up in my mind for that dusty, rarely played side of the tape. But thankfully there are enigmatic, eclectic and any other 'e' word you can think of characters to provide an outlet for this Side B of me and thus she can play herself on the tape deck again and again every time I had another chapter to a story, or put pen to paper another story thought forming a solid fog from mere wisps of leftover morning dew in my mind.
And there's the writing metaphor! I guess one can be predictable in a no-boundaries sort of way. Well, they say you learn something new every day right?
Well, I must say, it feels good to talk about clothes again, and rain boots, and Side B of me, and of course writing and such. I feel like no matter how scatterbrained each blog post may be there are always minute connective fibers running through them all. After all, I just managed to reference several past blog posts today didn't I? To end today's post, I'll see if I can't post a favorite Eddie Rabbitt tune of mine called I Love A Rainy Night. One night while perusing YouTube one of those rare and odd sparks ignited in my brain like an old flickering light bulb finally exploding in some dim, rarely trod corridor in the back of my mind and it illuminated and equally dusty and rusted-out filing cabinet that was labeled...forgotten, favorite songs. Kind of an oxymoron don't you think? How can a song be forgotten when it's a favorite? Well folks, unfortunately it happens on my iPod all the time.
So anyway, that was just a typical rambling way of me saying I'd completely forgotten about Eddie Rabbitt's awesome song until roughly a month ago and now every time I'm on YouTube I listen to. Give it a listen and maybe you'll understand why. I feel it sums up partially how I feel about rain and how it makes me feel. I hope listening to this song puts you in the middle of a rainy night, and you find yourself tapping along, or maybe even singing!
Monday, February 7, 2011
Temporary Walls
Why is it that whenever I set out to write a new blog post, the first thing I wind up doing is asking rhetorical questions? Like just now for instance, as I was thinking how to start off today's blog post the first thing I thought of typing was a question that I would answer.
Ironically, I can't stand it when people do that when speaking. Now I know that like me with my writing, they're simply thinking out loud, or trying to get a point across but to me...it just sounds weird. So why am I so inclined to do it in my blog posts? There I go with the questions again! But hey, at least with a rhetorical question I always have an answer right?
Well, enough of the contemplative me. Let me steer myself back on track here, keeping my eye on that mountain, old house, tree, or town at the end of this narrow, straight country road I set upon when first beginning to write this week's blog post. This time I won't glance down the many dirt roads or pockmarked blacktop roads meandering and twisting off of the main road, I won't get sidetracked! I'm going to stay on topic and stick to the title of today's post. Which is...what you ask? Temporary walls?
You're probably thinking, oh great, another ambiguous, creatively spun blog post title that will cause any passersby to lift an eyebrow and wonder, perhaps arousing myriad possibilities in their mind until they either grasp at something or fall through them all and give up. Whatever you're thinking this post is about, I promise it won't be able writing but in fact...music!
Yes, that's right, music! Remember when I used to write about that? Honestly, I can't even remember the last post I wrote about such a topic, but nevertheless, here it is! Now perhaps it's because I grew up with a generation ensconced in iPod's, iPad's, iTunes and mp3 players in general, but admittedly I listen to music...a lot. And most of the time it's through my iPod. And yes, I was - and possibly still am! - one of those teenagers - and now young-adults - who listens to their music too loud. Why? Because I like it loud! When I'm listening to music it's for a reason, which you might argue, isn't that why everyone listens to music? There I go with the questions again. Perhaps I'll come back to that later.
For instance, before writing this blog I thought of all the times I usually listen to music: sitting in my bedroom before bed, unable to fall asleep so I plug in my iPod, riding in the car on a long trip with my family, so I listen to music to drown out my parent's own music or the sounds of the highway, walking to my classes on campus, as well as waiting for them to start, or even when I'm at home on break or during the weekends I'll listen to music while doing dishes, or while I'm on facebook I'll open up YouTube, and so on and so on. What do all of these reasons have in common? I'm listening to my music to filter out the world around me, or to make a mundane task or wait go by faster. That's what I mean by temporary walls. When I put my headphones in my ears and select a song on my iPod, I'm placing those temporary walls around me like walking into the middle of a field and standing completely still, listening to the wheat whisper a shout around me. When the wind rises up from the valleys above and dives into their depths their chorus becomes deafening, They are singing a song unknown to your ears, silence is shattered gently around you like sand falling from a hand onto a windowpane. You are surrounded by temporary walls in that field, whispers that fold around you, silence ebbing away like the ocean slipping back into its skin, leaving the sand slick and sparkling.
I find it quite ironic for how much I treasure and truly crave the tranquility and silence of the countryside and its slow-pace of living unfolding with the days like a pop-up book read by a frail springtime wind fluttering its pages one by one, whenever I find myself home alone or waiting for a class to begin, or even when I'm jacketing one book after another at my job at the library, I need those temporary walls of electric guitars, 90's songs, raspy and smooth voices and familiar lyrics to build up around me, folding that silence back until I stand not in a square of that whispering field but a house of bricks made with no mortar, windows with no glass panes, a roof with no shingles. Walls that are there, but temporary, missing their solid components. Well, that might the world's longest sentence, eh? Such is one of my issues I must confess. I also must confess I'm doing nothing to change it. It'll be addressed sooner or later I know, but for now? I'll leave you to suffer through it, fellow blog readers. After all, it's not like you're reading this out loud or anything right?
Anyway, what I've found over the years is that music - any type that I like more specifically - makes me retrospective. Which is to say, it makes me reflect on many things. Like what you ask? Well, not to be stereotypical or anything but basically...my life! How I've gotten to be at UW Green-Bay, how I've managed to live on campus away from home, how my writing is going, how my characters are developing, places I'd like to go, the kind of life I'd like to have after graduation...and on and on. I've found that my mind, for how much it craves that silence of the countryside actually needs and craves those temporary walls just as much, so it can wander amongst those mortar-less walls, gaze through the pane-less windows at thoughts and dreams that somehow only reach me through temporary walls. But, you ask, how can something form within something that really isn't there? A brick house cannot stand without mortar, windows aren't windows without panes. And you certainly can't call it a house if it doesn't have shingles! Well, I'm sure it's no secret that my mind comes back to old houses again and again like a merry go round always stopping in the same place, and even though you run around to find a different horse the same one is always waiting for you when you stop, leaving you no choice but it get on.
All along I had believed silence made me retrospective, and in truth it does. Whenever I go on road trips with my family in the countryside I'll stare out my window for hours, looking at my thoughts while simultaneously looking at the countryside. Why? Because the countryside makes me retrospective! My brother will ask me what I'm looking at, and I find it hard to describe. But most often during these trips I'm listening to...you guessed it, music! So in fact it is music that carries my mind to that temporary house of my dreams and memories, but it is silence that sweeps them away and brings to me the whispers of the countryside itself, or the beauty of a silent abandoned house, speaking to me in fragments of song.
Fragments of song, now that's an idea for next week's post! And yes, once again, it's about music.
Ironically, I can't stand it when people do that when speaking. Now I know that like me with my writing, they're simply thinking out loud, or trying to get a point across but to me...it just sounds weird. So why am I so inclined to do it in my blog posts? There I go with the questions again! But hey, at least with a rhetorical question I always have an answer right?
Well, enough of the contemplative me. Let me steer myself back on track here, keeping my eye on that mountain, old house, tree, or town at the end of this narrow, straight country road I set upon when first beginning to write this week's blog post. This time I won't glance down the many dirt roads or pockmarked blacktop roads meandering and twisting off of the main road, I won't get sidetracked! I'm going to stay on topic and stick to the title of today's post. Which is...what you ask? Temporary walls?
You're probably thinking, oh great, another ambiguous, creatively spun blog post title that will cause any passersby to lift an eyebrow and wonder, perhaps arousing myriad possibilities in their mind until they either grasp at something or fall through them all and give up. Whatever you're thinking this post is about, I promise it won't be able writing but in fact...music!
Yes, that's right, music! Remember when I used to write about that? Honestly, I can't even remember the last post I wrote about such a topic, but nevertheless, here it is! Now perhaps it's because I grew up with a generation ensconced in iPod's, iPad's, iTunes and mp3 players in general, but admittedly I listen to music...a lot. And most of the time it's through my iPod. And yes, I was - and possibly still am! - one of those teenagers - and now young-adults - who listens to their music too loud. Why? Because I like it loud! When I'm listening to music it's for a reason, which you might argue, isn't that why everyone listens to music? There I go with the questions again. Perhaps I'll come back to that later.
For instance, before writing this blog I thought of all the times I usually listen to music: sitting in my bedroom before bed, unable to fall asleep so I plug in my iPod, riding in the car on a long trip with my family, so I listen to music to drown out my parent's own music or the sounds of the highway, walking to my classes on campus, as well as waiting for them to start, or even when I'm at home on break or during the weekends I'll listen to music while doing dishes, or while I'm on facebook I'll open up YouTube, and so on and so on. What do all of these reasons have in common? I'm listening to my music to filter out the world around me, or to make a mundane task or wait go by faster. That's what I mean by temporary walls. When I put my headphones in my ears and select a song on my iPod, I'm placing those temporary walls around me like walking into the middle of a field and standing completely still, listening to the wheat whisper a shout around me. When the wind rises up from the valleys above and dives into their depths their chorus becomes deafening, They are singing a song unknown to your ears, silence is shattered gently around you like sand falling from a hand onto a windowpane. You are surrounded by temporary walls in that field, whispers that fold around you, silence ebbing away like the ocean slipping back into its skin, leaving the sand slick and sparkling.
I find it quite ironic for how much I treasure and truly crave the tranquility and silence of the countryside and its slow-pace of living unfolding with the days like a pop-up book read by a frail springtime wind fluttering its pages one by one, whenever I find myself home alone or waiting for a class to begin, or even when I'm jacketing one book after another at my job at the library, I need those temporary walls of electric guitars, 90's songs, raspy and smooth voices and familiar lyrics to build up around me, folding that silence back until I stand not in a square of that whispering field but a house of bricks made with no mortar, windows with no glass panes, a roof with no shingles. Walls that are there, but temporary, missing their solid components. Well, that might the world's longest sentence, eh? Such is one of my issues I must confess. I also must confess I'm doing nothing to change it. It'll be addressed sooner or later I know, but for now? I'll leave you to suffer through it, fellow blog readers. After all, it's not like you're reading this out loud or anything right?
Anyway, what I've found over the years is that music - any type that I like more specifically - makes me retrospective. Which is to say, it makes me reflect on many things. Like what you ask? Well, not to be stereotypical or anything but basically...my life! How I've gotten to be at UW Green-Bay, how I've managed to live on campus away from home, how my writing is going, how my characters are developing, places I'd like to go, the kind of life I'd like to have after graduation...and on and on. I've found that my mind, for how much it craves that silence of the countryside actually needs and craves those temporary walls just as much, so it can wander amongst those mortar-less walls, gaze through the pane-less windows at thoughts and dreams that somehow only reach me through temporary walls. But, you ask, how can something form within something that really isn't there? A brick house cannot stand without mortar, windows aren't windows without panes. And you certainly can't call it a house if it doesn't have shingles! Well, I'm sure it's no secret that my mind comes back to old houses again and again like a merry go round always stopping in the same place, and even though you run around to find a different horse the same one is always waiting for you when you stop, leaving you no choice but it get on.
All along I had believed silence made me retrospective, and in truth it does. Whenever I go on road trips with my family in the countryside I'll stare out my window for hours, looking at my thoughts while simultaneously looking at the countryside. Why? Because the countryside makes me retrospective! My brother will ask me what I'm looking at, and I find it hard to describe. But most often during these trips I'm listening to...you guessed it, music! So in fact it is music that carries my mind to that temporary house of my dreams and memories, but it is silence that sweeps them away and brings to me the whispers of the countryside itself, or the beauty of a silent abandoned house, speaking to me in fragments of song.
Fragments of song, now that's an idea for next week's post! And yes, once again, it's about music.
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