So my computer has some kind of virus. Awesome. I'm getting pop ups like crazy.
For a class we had to write a paper on music and identity. I really liked this assignment because it's so personal and deep. Here's my draft 2.
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
A Short History of Nearly Nothing
Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm, figures dancing gracefully, across my memory. Anastasia, 1997.
I dont know of a time when music wasnt a heavy part of my life. I cant say for sure that such a time even existed. I would sit in my room for hours listening to the music seeping into my ears from my headphones. For some reason the most comfortable place in my room was on the floor in the corner of my closet. I would wrap myself in my grandmothers giant white comforter with the pink rhododendrons and chose a tape from the beat up leather case that housed all of the familys cassettes. It had survived college with my dad and multiple cross country moves and looked like a suitcase that had seen better days. I would prop that case open, pick out a tape, pop it in my blue walkman and let the music wash over me.
Promises mean everything when youre little and the worlds so big. I just dont understand how you can smile at me with all those tears in your eyes and tell me everything is wonderful now. Everclear, 2000.
When I was in fifth grade, during my Christmas vacation from school, my parents told me that they were getting a divorce. Shortly before my mom moved out, my dad started seeing someone else, Meg. By May, Meg and her two kids moved into our duplex. My special place in the closet was overrun with my soon-to-be-step-sisters soccer gear and sickeningly large collection of Aeropostale sweatshirts. My space was completely invaded. I spent most of my time laying on my bed listening to my beat up walkman to try and drown out the sounds of the stranger who now shared my room. Music had become my escape. At the worst of it we were fighting constantly, sometimes violently. At one point my soon-to-be-step-brother kicked me out of my own room. When I protested, he chased me down the hall, tackled me and broke a plastic recorder over my arm. Its been ten years and the scar is still on my right forearm. In 2004, my dad and Meg bought a house and were officially married. I started spending more and more time away from home to avoid confrontations and the ugly stares. Looks that seemed to say youre not welcome.
As four in the morning came on cold and boring we huddled close in the bus stop enclosure enfolding. Our hands tightly holding. The Decemberists, 2005
To get my mind off of my failing relationship with my dad, I joined every vocal group that I could. I taught myself how to play piano and took a few guitar classes and some voice lessons. I developed a thirst for music. It had gone from being a way to tune out to being a way to tune in to myself and my world. Eighty-eight keys and six strings were all I needed.
My days were filled with music and my nights were filled with sleep interrupted by my step-sisters cell phone going off. To escape, I started sneaking out almost every night. This was how I met my future husband, Alex, so I supposed I am indebted to her. We spent most nights just walking around Mount Horeb, holding each other to ease away the cold. We talked mostly about music, and one of the things I love about my husband is his excitement when he hears a new song.
I still get laughed at, but it doesnt bother me, Im just so glad to hear laughter around me. Amanda Palmer, 2010
Have you ever walked down a loud hallway, and as you pass through, people get quiet? The looks out of the corners of someones eyes as they act like they arent looking at you and the muffled snickers as soon as they think youre out of earshot are enough to make even the most self-assured person nervous. Thats what living at my dads was like and without my headphones to drown out the sound of the jury in my head, I would have given in to the feelings of worthlessness and self doubt. Ive learned to subdue the paranoia a bit and with the help of music, I have built an unwavering confidence in myself.
Music is my boyfriend, music is my girlfriend. Music is my dead-end, musics my imaginary friend. Music is my brother, music is my great-granddaughter. Music is my sister, music is my favorite mistress. - CSS, 2006
