I can’t get enough music these days: I can’t always find time to separately listen to music, and I’ve sort of lost the ability to successfully do anything along with music, except for music (which might shed light on my problem, wouldn’t it?)
Perhaps I can escape the music by turning the volume down low. But I can’t escape lyrics that invite me to follow a story. After all, one thing that anyone can confirm I am, is a storyteller.
(And like, also a musician, but I’m trying to make a point here. So for five minutes now, we will all sit with fingers to our lips and not talk about how I begin dissecting the music I hear when I hear it and end up not getting any work done. Deal?)
So I’ve found a loophole. I’ve started listening to French rock music, where I still get the music, but at low enough a volume to keep my focus on the proof I’m reading (we actually lay a decent focus on reading and understanding someone else’s proofs as well in my CS class), and without the words telling me a complete story.
Of course, the odd phrase will sit in my head, but it isn’t as bad as English where every word basically finds a match in my head straight away!
But you see, the trouble is, I’m actually making an effort at French in class and might soon enough have passable enough French to understand what’s going on. I have already found I’m able to pick out words distinctly, even if I don’t know what they mean.
So soon, I’ll find myself in the same situation as I’m in now.
I guess I’ll have to start hunting for a new language then.
Perl here I come.
Surely there’s a lot of other good rock music out there, and I can’t wait to get right at it.
Next stop: Finnish metal bands.
(Truth be told, I’ll probably start following just the sound of the language because, you know, you could call it music too.
I think I’ll eventually be stuck with Last Ride In by Green Day (it’s instrumental).)
Staying up late at night to study has its own merits and demirits. I do some work, my mind wanders, poetry happens. Often.
I don’t always want to reach for my phone at 1 in the morning, it really messes up my rhythm.
So this is my new outlet.
I’m doing poetry on paper napkins! I could go all poetic about how fragile they are and everything, but you know the real story behind it; I’m just lazy.
I’m not sure how legible my handwriting is, it also happens to be my 2-AM-attempt-at-being-neat, so while it’s an aesthetic (I guess? That’s my alibi, after all!), I’m still going to transcribe it, for readability.
(Let me know if the Earth has launched out of our solar system and it’s actually readable enough for me to not need to transcribe it!)
So here goes nothing.
Einstein was right
Yes, time is relative
It’s relative, to space and sound
And all the people you’re around
Silence echoes louder than sound
Perhaps it does to some
For me, the white noise of my own thoughts
Begs sound’s intervention
Break through my inertia
Set me free
Take the place of disturbance
At once growling and motherly
For 9 PM and 3 AM
Are now the same to me
Bind me to my looming,
Free me, speak in my mind
How screwed an I if I disagree?
Coerce me, coax me
But get me through the shitstorm
I’m singleminded in the wrong ways
Steely resolve to absurdity
Break down my statue
A memorial to eternity
And then know that you’re free
To haunt my whisking dreams.
(Just a note, that’s my math textbook in the background. I’m truly sorry.)
Cells run dry, you’re stuck in time
Frozen in a frame of mind
Stranded by the tide unkind
Tripped a moment and left behind.
Watch for the sun to come up or go down
You’re living in an old ghost town
Is now forever? Or just a flicker from the past?
What would be the future, and just how long does it last?
As the motor winds down, nothing matters in the end
Lie jaded all over again, we’ve another day to spend
The clock jeers in your face again
As the minutes and hours, light and dark blend…
It’s actually a pretty interesting thing I’ve noticed recently, living without time. None of the clocks at home are working, we’re stuck in the seventh hour for eternity. It’s been 7:30 for days, and my life’s revolving around how far we are from 7:30.
I found myself wondering what it’s like living out of time, or without it altogether.
Is it really time, or pace, that sets your life?