I Miss Music

I miss music.

I miss music in a way I cannot explain to people who do not appreciate it, to people who do not actually play an instrument.  I miss sitting down on the porch with my guitar or bass, legs curled under me, cigarette hanging from my mouth, drink at my side.  Not that I miss smoking.. But I miss music.  I miss letting all my frustrations, anger, sadness, pain, misery, and any other negative emotion go while I strummed, sang.. or even when I played a piano.  I miss letting the feeling of the vibration of the strings enhance my happiness and joy.  I miss feeling goosebumps raise on my arms as I play something that resonates my soul.

I miss music.

I miss feeling the keys depress under my fingers.  I miss the feel of the strings as they vibrate and pop.  I miss feeling my heart beating faster and faster, as I get closer to the breakdowns.

I fucking miss music.

I even miss my fingers hurting after I’ve played too long. I miss looking up to realize a few hours have passed, stretching slowly to pop my back, and rolling my head around to loosen my neck.  I miss rubbing the cramps out of arthritis-laden hands and smiling, because the pain was worth the time I got to play.  I miss holding my bass.  I miss taking a sip of whatever I was drinking after I don’t know how much time, letting it cool my parched throat, because I forgot where I was for a long while, while I played.  I miss closing my eyes and lowering my head as I played the sounds over and over in my head, testing different notes to see what I liked best, before beginning to play again.  I miss the countless hours I “lost” while playing.

I miss music!

I miss seeing my daughter sit next to me, sometimes for hours, mesmerized by whatever I played.  I miss hearing her hum along as she got the rhythm and beat, I miss hearing her make up songs to whatever I played.  I miss seeding her eyes light up as I pulled out one of my guitars and began tuning it.  I miss her incessant questions about why I did this or that, and how.  I miss seeing her eyes light up as I started to play.

I miss music.

I miss the absolute release.  I miss how exhausted I would be after playing out my emotions.  I miss dragging myself to bed at whatever hour because I gave music all my hurt and I had nothing left.  I miss walking back inside with a flounce because I let go of all the hurt and added back to my joy.

I miss playing.

I miss my bass.

I miss being able to play for hours instead of a few minutes before I’m crying form pain, because of a severely damaged wrist.

I miss the release.

I fucking miss music.  And listening is never the same.

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Dear Dad..

Dear Dad….

There are days when I miss having you to talk to like a suffocating person misses air.  When I gulp in and drown in memories and “what ifs” and “what might have beens”.  There are days when I don’t think about you at all.  Today is the former.

There are days when I think I would give an appendage to hear your voice, jokes, laughter, sarcastic assery.  To catch you up on all my life has been since we last spoke.

Has it really been 14 years? It feels longer.

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Love is a Many-Splintered Thing, Part 2

My last blog entry was about love.  Well, I would like to follow up that entry with an addition.

A few days ago, a Facebook friend posted this screenshot:

A wonderful example of not letting the world change who you are.

A wonderful example of not letting the world change who you are.

This screenshot made me tear up a little, because it is a wonderful example of love in its simplest most pure form.  Allow me to explain why, in light of my previous post.

We are flawed, each of us.  We are products of our environments, the people around us, how we are raised, how we are treated, the information we learn, the horrors and joys we witness throughout our lives.  But mostly, we are a product of our own choices.  We CHOOSE to change who we are based on the factors listed above, and more.  Who hurt us and how, who we hurt and how, daily nuisances and successes, et cetera.  Simply, we are the end result of what we choose to allow to affect us, and how we choose to let it affect us.

(Read more below.  It is worth your time, promise..)

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