It's late. I've been sick for four days. I can't breathe - so I can't sleep. My nose is chaffed from sneezing, tissues, and snot, as well as stinging from the lotion I put on it. MIKA is playing on my Pandora and sweetening the bitter mood I've been in as of late.
For whatever reason, I can't let myself be happy. I find ways to keep myself miserable. To keep myself the "tortured artist" if you will. I see this inability to be happy and I'm frustrated. Angered. Pissed. Which is a result from my inability to be happy. Because if I knew how to be happy, I would see my inability to be happy and sublimate my unhappiness. Find a way to be happy. But no. I see my inability to be happy and it makes me even unhappier. Litost, I believe is what Milan Kundera calls it. Seeing your state of misery and being miserable about it.
Shit just got meta.
My throat is dry. Dusty. Ancient. As if it were the tomb to some ancient ruler that has just been discovered and opened. I cough as fresh air floods my lungs.
I always find something to be angry about. Something to be frustrated with. It's easier to be happy when I'm taking medication - I don't look for the negative as much. Everything doesn't rub me the wrong way. Seeing people together and happy doesn't make me disgusted. Doesn't make me jealous.
I have a hard time being happy for others. Because I'm jealous? Because I don't know how to be happy and I'm angry that they do? That they somehow know this secret and won't share it with me? Something like that.
Cough syrup might be more effective in opening this ancient tomb.
Part of the problem is that I don't try to be happy. I see people being happy and instead of trying to do what they do, I sit and I'm angry because I don't know how to let myself be happy. I see someone I like, someone I used to date, someone I had unrequited love for find someone else. And I'm bitter.
Bitter. Bitter. Bitter.
And jealous. Can't forget jealousy of course.
And the thing is, this is what I wanted. I didn't want to get close to him because... because of a gazillion things. Because of distance. Because of people. Because he has roots where he lives and I don't. Because the thought of settling down - of growing roots - terrifies me. Because I want to live in the city - in Chicago. Because I want to travel. Because I don't share well. Because the last time I felt this intensely about someone, it took me three years to get over her. Because there's no way he feels the same intensity for me. Because I don't want to spend another three years of my life being stuck on someone, trying to get over someone, trying to forget someone.
And he's found someone. Someone who lives in my city - not his. And they're making it work, apparently. So it seems. And he's coming here, to visit him soon, apparently.
And so I'm bitter.
Be happy. Be happy. Be happy.
Can I get an updated instruction manual for this happiness shit?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
3:14AM On Music
It's 3AM. My computer's battery is half dead (half alive?). There's an empty Smirnoff bottle on my bed (my sister's bed). I haven't eaten since 11PM or so - the alcohol has comforted me more than it normally would.
Comforted? Did I need to be comforted? Why else would I pick that word? Why didn't I pick, "relax," or "chill," or "warm," or... I don't know. Why "comforted"? I am comforted, though. So, maybe I did need to be.
I'm listening to music I feel luke warm about.
That has changed. No one should ever listen to music they feel luke warm about. Especially when they're listening to music by choice - for enjoyment. For love.
I hate that it's so undervalued. Under appreciated. Music. Some days, it's the only thing that gives me energy. More energy than my goddamn coffee or tea ever could. Some days, it's the only thing that takes my breath away.
That should be rule number one of living - something should take your breath away every day, at least once a day. If it doesn't, you're living wrong.
People think science is so important. And it is. I suppose. But you study all these things around you, and you learn and discover. So what? So, then it's taken and used and things change. So what? So, then life for everyone is healthier, lengthened, improved. So what? So - science betters the quality of life. That's why science is important. It's immediately obvious to everyone who looks at science. Clearly science is something to put time, effort, energy, and - last but not least, of course - money into.
I call bullshit.
Science is for the privileged. How is your science helping the quality of life of those who have weeks left to live? How is your science helping the quality of life of the third world countries? How is your science helping the quality of life of those who cannot afford to buy it?
Answer: It's not.
Why is music important?
I can't answer that question. At least, not on a universal level. On a personal level - it makes me happy. It's the only thing aside from the pills I pop that calms my racing mind and fills my lungs to their full capacity. Listening to it gives me energy. Motivation. Creating it, sculpting it, sharing it gives me purpose - more motivation. And writing it? Putting scribbles on paper, handing that paper to someone, and then hearing its reality? That is the most un-fucking-real experience you'll ever have. It's something so beautiful, you almost forget how to breathe.
Why is music important?
For me - it betters my life. I have a general anxiety disorder - if I don't pop some pills, I have a mild panic attack at least once every other day. I can't fall asleep in under 2 hours. I facetiously remind myself that if I were dead, I wouldn't have to deal with any of this (apparently healthy people don't have these thoughts - or so I'm told).
When I play my flute, I breathe. Deeply. That's something I can't seem to do on my own when I'm not medicated. Anyone with any type of anxiety will tell you that the first thing you need to learn to do is to control your breathing. Breathing mitigates my panic attacks. Combine the breathing with the need to focus in order to create decent music, and my panic attack is gone.
My mind races at night when I try to fall asleep. I can't get my inner dialogue to shut the fuck up. I think about everything I have to do still. I yell at myself for not having been more productive that day. Mental to-do lists and a list of things to improve on. But if I manage to think of the melody from "Cafe 1930s" from History of the Tango by Astor Piazzolla I'm at peace. I don't think of anything except that beauty of a piece and I'm out.
Granted, if I went halvesies - if I decided to go off my meds and just use music as my sole form of treatment or vice versa - my life wouldn't be as functional. Anti-depressants keep the anxiety away when I can't get to a practice room (such as during class). They keep me calm during high-pressure and/or high-stress situations. Science is not without its worth - but, even so, it's not all that it's cracked up to be. Music is much more readily available to poverty-ridden communities than science is.
And art programs, music programs, humanities programs - they're all being cut around the country, in the interest of having more funding for science.
What did I just say about going halvesies?
Comforted? Did I need to be comforted? Why else would I pick that word? Why didn't I pick, "relax," or "chill," or "warm," or... I don't know. Why "comforted"? I am comforted, though. So, maybe I did need to be.
I'm listening to music I feel luke warm about.
That has changed. No one should ever listen to music they feel luke warm about. Especially when they're listening to music by choice - for enjoyment. For love.
I hate that it's so undervalued. Under appreciated. Music. Some days, it's the only thing that gives me energy. More energy than my goddamn coffee or tea ever could. Some days, it's the only thing that takes my breath away.
That should be rule number one of living - something should take your breath away every day, at least once a day. If it doesn't, you're living wrong.
People think science is so important. And it is. I suppose. But you study all these things around you, and you learn and discover. So what? So, then it's taken and used and things change. So what? So, then life for everyone is healthier, lengthened, improved. So what? So - science betters the quality of life. That's why science is important. It's immediately obvious to everyone who looks at science. Clearly science is something to put time, effort, energy, and - last but not least, of course - money into.
I call bullshit.
Science is for the privileged. How is your science helping the quality of life of those who have weeks left to live? How is your science helping the quality of life of the third world countries? How is your science helping the quality of life of those who cannot afford to buy it?
Answer: It's not.
Why is music important?
I can't answer that question. At least, not on a universal level. On a personal level - it makes me happy. It's the only thing aside from the pills I pop that calms my racing mind and fills my lungs to their full capacity. Listening to it gives me energy. Motivation. Creating it, sculpting it, sharing it gives me purpose - more motivation. And writing it? Putting scribbles on paper, handing that paper to someone, and then hearing its reality? That is the most un-fucking-real experience you'll ever have. It's something so beautiful, you almost forget how to breathe.
Why is music important?
For me - it betters my life. I have a general anxiety disorder - if I don't pop some pills, I have a mild panic attack at least once every other day. I can't fall asleep in under 2 hours. I facetiously remind myself that if I were dead, I wouldn't have to deal with any of this (apparently healthy people don't have these thoughts - or so I'm told).
When I play my flute, I breathe. Deeply. That's something I can't seem to do on my own when I'm not medicated. Anyone with any type of anxiety will tell you that the first thing you need to learn to do is to control your breathing. Breathing mitigates my panic attacks. Combine the breathing with the need to focus in order to create decent music, and my panic attack is gone.
My mind races at night when I try to fall asleep. I can't get my inner dialogue to shut the fuck up. I think about everything I have to do still. I yell at myself for not having been more productive that day. Mental to-do lists and a list of things to improve on. But if I manage to think of the melody from "Cafe 1930s" from History of the Tango by Astor Piazzolla I'm at peace. I don't think of anything except that beauty of a piece and I'm out.
Granted, if I went halvesies - if I decided to go off my meds and just use music as my sole form of treatment or vice versa - my life wouldn't be as functional. Anti-depressants keep the anxiety away when I can't get to a practice room (such as during class). They keep me calm during high-pressure and/or high-stress situations. Science is not without its worth - but, even so, it's not all that it's cracked up to be. Music is much more readily available to poverty-ridden communities than science is.
And art programs, music programs, humanities programs - they're all being cut around the country, in the interest of having more funding for science.
What did I just say about going halvesies?
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