Acoustics

I left a room of indefinite silence, after a fruitless search for sound. 

Roaming in circles, peeking under furniture, and pressing my ears against invisible hope.

I had been in that room so long, the crevasses and crannies and walls were memorized. For the most warming voice would whisper and beckon my stay. So warm that I could sit and smile and drink tea until it sweetly surprised my ears again. Even it's coldest pitch would sate my soul.

Many teas, and many nights passed.

Not a peep; no sonance had amassed. 

I creased my sheets and paced my space, as to not miss the sound.

Athirst for the voice, my solicitous senses abound.

The days grew longer and my smile became weaker,

Grasping for evidence of my mysterious speaker.

Sweating the nights and grudging the days,

Melancholy quieted my wanton ways.

Alas, the last echo had sounded in my head,

I had only the memory of what had been said.

The voice had thwarted my ears,

I hadn't anymore thirst to quench, no hope to hear.

I made my bed; I tucked my memory in.

I adjusted the overturned furniture and made the room right again.

One last glance, one last roam of the ear,

Head hung in confusion and defeat, as the room took my last tear.

The door beckoned, as it knew my matter

It opened swiftly to help me escape the silent clatter.

Hallway air penetrated my nostrils, sparked my senses anew.

Wonder and hope boiled and brewed.

A gentle pull walked me towards a room down the way,

As I heard a clear voice speak out on this blossoming day.

The room's light was alive, and a garden peeked about,

A figure stood in the door with a hand reaching out.

Was this my room? A place to call home?

For I would find soon out, but I didn't feel alone.

The Middle

And so, the cage bent. Enough for some blood pressure release, at least.

Release the need for what you want the most - truly let it go - and you will get it. I'll expand when I have more time. :)

Heart In A Cage

I almost forgot about one of my theme songs...It's strangely poignant, especially the timing of when I heard it last night.

It's a slightly cynical perspective to take, but I have ran into some obstacles lately and would be lying if I said I was impervious. My heart is in fact, in a goddamn cage. Whether or not I caged it is not the point right now, this has nothing to do with blaming anyone else, other than myself. These lyrics highlight a lot of how I am thinking right now; it's just a phase, but it's where my heart and mind are right now and I want to be honest about it. The cage will open, or melt, or bend soon... Things will shift in a wonderful direction (sooner or later), and I will feel differently, but I figured I would share the moment with whoever cares to read; anyone bored online.



I recommend watching the link below while reading the lyrics...It's a good song, give it a chance.




The Strokes
"Heart In A Cage"

Well I don't feel better
When I'm fucking around
And I don't write better
When I'm stuck in the ground
So don't teach me a lesson
Cause I've already learned
Yeah the sun will be shining
And my children will burn

Oh the heart beats in its cage

I don't want what you want
I don't feel what you feel
See I'm stuck in a city
But I belong in a field

Yeah we got left, left, left, left, left, left, left

Now it's three in the morning and you're eating alone

Oh the heart beats in its cage

All our friends, they're laughing at us
All of those you loved you mistrust
Help me I'm just not quite myself
Look around there's no one else left
I went to the concert and I fought through the crowd
Guess I got too excited when I thought you were around

Oh he gets left, left, left, left, left, left, left

I'm sorry you were thinking; I would steal your fire.
The heart beats in its cage
Yes the heart beats in its cage
Alright

And the heart beats in its cage


 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbRe5mxR0q0

The Beginning

I'm intensely introspective, and slightly narcissistic. I am much more of course, but it's for those two reasons I created this blog today, with two main objectives:
1) Document my mental/spiritual/emotional progress and reflect on said progressions.
2) Observe my evolution.

Blogging seems to be the most logical way to accomplish those objectives, because the public nature of a blog reinforces me to stay sharp whilst documenting my life, and my narcissism insists that I showcase my blossoming self.

Keeping a journal is a reasonable option, but I've tried that. Daily journal entries are too redundant for me because by the time it's on paper, I have already psychoanalyzed the ventilation and moved on. I started a journal around age 9, and it was fascinating at the time. For some reason, I had the obligatory need to tell my journal everything - which got old fast. I was recapping conversations with my sister about Nickelodeon commercials, and inserting excerpts from notes I passed during school that day. I think I even used time stamps and told "Diary" everything from juvenile make-out fantasies to what kind of magnifying glass I would use when investigating the cleaning lady. At the time, that was just what I needed. I am now 23 going on 34, and far too aloof to indulge in a journal; not to mention the fact I would forget where it's hidden. Personally, I think I will benefit from the writing exercise for the mysterious public that happens upon this page, far more than I would a private journal entry. (Dream journals, on the other hand, are another post entirely.) That is not to say I discredit the value of a daily journal/diary, and it's psychological foundations in clarity and peace of mind. I will admit; the open forum for profanity and gossip, in the privacy of my very own tiger-striped journal, was a huge relief in middle school.

It's been ten years since my last journal entry, which isn't something I'm either happy or sad about. I am most articulate via the written word, and I should have been documenting my semi-enchanting life all the while. Fortunately, my impeccable photographic memory has done most of the work for me, only letting a fraction of my life slip through the cracks. My sentimentality is curious about all I've forgotten, but my intellect is grateful for the mystery and has the wisdom to let the invisible blips of experience lie in peace. Many a time these phantom memories will suddenly appear to remind us of why we forgot, or integrate themselves with current events and stay for good. Some things aren't to be meddled with, and repressed memories are one of them. So for now, I will blog about what I do, foresee, and remember; and leave all else to the system it is in.

Plus, I won't be digging or shedding a tear for an afternoon of fruitless channel surfing, or a lonely night by the telephone. Wait...I remember most of those.