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Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Classical music notes

This is what I do when I find candy that I don't like in the vending machine:

I eat all the reds (and in this case purples too) and then play with the others. How old am I? It is pretty though...


Oh well, I felt like posting again because I'm bored and really don't feel like doing work right now. At 8, Breanne and I attended this classical music concert by a man whose name I cannot remember and don't care enough about to look up. For over 2 hours we sat there... not really paying attention. Instead we held a very in depth conversation entirely on notebook paper (and before that, on the back of some notes on how to write a case brief i found in my media law text book). I don't know if I've ever had such an enlightening conversation about relationships and love before. I think it might have been the music. I was able to explain the phenomenon of the "electric spark" and not only have someone know what I was talking about, but also have them reaffirm the sense of awe I have of it (it's when you're having a conversation with someone and one of you says something that just sends this "electric spark" that punches you in the chest. You can't breathe for a second, and everything stops. You both stop talking, and you just stare at each other for what seems like eternity. But then one of you starts talking again and suddenly you can breathe. It's wonderful, haha). She told me about unrequited love and how much it hurts to love someone so much, but have them keep themselves from feeling anything at all, even love.

It's one thing to read about people telling things like this (so I don't know if this really means much to any of you reading this), but it's another thing to have the person tell you personally what they're feeling. And not typed or read off a computer screen, but hand written in front of you. Where you can see how long it takes them to write it down, how the words flow from their pen as they're reliving the memory right then and there inside their head. You may get the same story from reading or hearing words... but you never truly understand until you can watch them work. It made me start thinking...

That's why I've always wanted to watch someone write a song. Songwriters are among the bravest people I can think of. They write down their emotions for everyone to hear. And even though you're not there to see them scribble down the words as they race through their head, grabbing anything that'll make a mark, grabbing anything that has space left to write even a letter, there is always the music (the soulful part). And I feel that it acts like the rush you get from watching someone recall a personal memory.

You know how when you see a musician perform a song whose content you know is personal and painful, and you don't quite know who or what specifically they're talking about, but you understand anyway? When you watch a musician perform a song that's so emotionally draining that you feel out of breath by the time it's over?

I did that once. I once watched a musician perform such a song and realized, at the end of the song, that I had been holding my breath for the last couple verses. My chest hurt and I was out of breath. I took a couple unsteady breaths in, just to get back to my regular breathing pattern. I felt awful.

The song was amazing.

That's why I love to watch people. Watching ranges of emotion is one of the purest ways you can get to know someone. Watching them create something, watching them present something that they've poured themselves into. Sometimes I sit back and forget about all the stupid people in the world, and am just in love with everyone, and amazed at all the personalities that coexist.

Perhaps that's a little existential. But I don't care. It's late...

1 comment:

Breanne Crawford said...

i love you. over and over again. for this post.

you write what i can't even begin to express.