darkness frees emotion

the dark of night is dangerous.

it takes our deepest thoughts and warps their context,

obscures their reality,

exacerbates them into planets that swirl above our heads in our own universes,

where they mingle with trapped emotions,

emotions that are magnified once hidden by night,

as they are released from their daytime suppression.

for in the dark emotion has no fear, no reason for it to hide;

an invisible character is safe in an invisible world.

there is no sense of judgment served from the clarity of day,

the microscope that perpetually examines.

there is no fight with logic,

emotion just presents itself for the world to see;

naked, exposed and dramatic,

it anticipates dark with the silent drumroll of twilight,

slowly creeping forward, growing confident with the sinking sun.

dusk is dangerous,

for it allows raw emotion to sneak out,

emotion that is searing and bold and frolicking,

it takes its own wheel, driving waywardly along the border of truth

without a sniff or a care or a second glance.

darkness frees emotion, letting it run wild like a shadow,

shameless and inescapable.

"the seasons are your friend"

meet Sia.

if you haven't already. let's just say that if i were an artist, i'd be her.

it was one of those albums i saw in starbucks, but actually caught my eye. i couldn't say what it was, maybe the bright color, her face, or perhaps the fact that she had actually streaked marker across her face.. but maybe because it was what was playing. "Some People Have Real Problems" was the album title, a blunt piece of truth, but i was intrigued enough to download the album and check out her others too, each ranging from mellow, breathy and calm melodies to carefully created deep and jagged songs to poppy, fun and spunky tracks, all of which is completely distinctive music.

her lyrics clarify intangible emotions (an ability i find extremely attractive in writing), ones  that sprout from certain situations, that you may feel but might not really be able to pinpoint with words, the ones you fumble over with fuzzy thought but can't really express. it's not often we come across music that is both excellent for its lyrics and its sound, so here i've found a rare satisfaction. music that is just, well, nothing other than awesome.

she's unique. eccentric (in a weirdly cool, confident way), silly, but completely in tune. she's a colorful, quirky poet and artist, constantly creating with complete meaning. she's different; her voice, her words, her sound, her impression. even as she is distinctive, she makes sense, yet even if she didn't, she would seem to be completely fine, because she's pure expression. and that's a  lesson in itself: to be different, and be more than okay with it.

dare to live loudly. breathe, speak, sing, be bold.

& try something new.

some favorites:

"Never Gonna Leave Me"

"Pictures"

"Death By Chocolate"

"Breathe Me"

"Sweet Potato"

"Bring Night"

"The Girl You Lost To Cocaine"

photos: google.com/imghp

dear john

Dear John, I don’t love you, because I don’t know you. I sort of gave up on trying to figure out who you are because you’re becoming too much of a nuisance to comprehend and I’d rather not contribute to your ever-growing ego, if that's okay. What I see in you seems to have little to do with the person you seem to be, so I thought it necessary to explain why. For instance, three out of the four times I’ve seen you perform live, I’ve been perfectly content sitting in the lawn seats, because I don’t find it the least bit necessary to elbow others for a glimpse of your face. That’s just how it is.

I knew your music before I knew "you." I’m not much of a tabloid believer, and I don’t favor making assumptions about other people’s characters, but I can’t help but question if you’re one in the same. Most artists and writers use their words as their form of communication, their expression of their emotions, their experiences, and their personalities, to ultimately describe them. With that, I know your music, and the lyrical genius and poet behind the conceited façade you put out. I’ve spent the past five years getting to know the person who wrote your lyrics, and I’ve fallen pretty hard, for that side of you. But this self-centered, materialistic idle-life that you so wholeheartedly show off, not so much. Make sense? I guess it could.

I believe that it’s love when you realize that an entire song encompasses the entire extent of your current emotion, and when you can’t name a single favorite song by an artist, because they all matter. When it comes to your music, Continuum is my Chicken Soup for the Broken Heart. Try! is my motivation for pride. Room For Squares is my humble winter anthem. Heavier Things brightens my mood, and re-energizes my  individuality. But if this means your songs can relate to anyone, I’d at least like to know for sure who I can give the credit to, your heart, or this “mainstream” to which you’re attempting to appeal?

For example, I was intrigued by “Who Says,” and some other songs from Battle Studies, because after all the person you have built yourself to be through your past albums, "Who Says" presents a completely opposite person, a genuinely vain and indifferent asshole. Even if you are an asshole, it would seem kind of odd for you to be able to own the previous songs you have written, the lyrics that bring clarity to the indescribable depths of an emotion, without drowning it out or sapping it up with clichés. Either that or you just have an extraordinarily eloquent, captivating and yeah, maybe even heart-melting imagination. If anything. But I just don’t see a parallel between your lifestyle and your lyrics. You must have a heart, but in real life you seem to be severely lacking.

Whether your records actually record a different you or not, I guess will remain a mystery, unless someday you decide to put effort into how you appeal personally to the public. I sincerely believe that you’ve never cared what people think of you, even now as image is ironically your strongest vice towards fame. I remember you as the guy in jeans who made funny facial expressions when he sang, the kid who just wanted to play guitar, the kid who just had words, that made sense to him, claiming “someday [he’d] fly, someday [he’d] soar, someday [he’d] be so damn much more,” knowing deep down that he was “bigger than [his] body [gave him] credit for.” But then you gained popularity, you actually noticed that you started succeeding, and it got to your head, I'm guessing sometime while you were "waiting on the world to change." Well guess what? You finally fit the stereotype of a rising musician.

I was hoping that you’d never really notice your fame, and that you’d somehow hold onto a small piece of your modesty, but like the rest of the world, I only saw you climb higher up the rungs of arrogance. I would probably defend your haughtiness as simply knowing yourself better than most people know themselves, a sort of extreme self-awareness or a state of content self-acknowledgment. But I can’t defend your offenses or your self-pity, your solitude or your indifference. Maybe you’ll never care that much what people think of you, even as you grow more and more arrogant, but I had hoped you’d at least have direction, and would not become this aimless, as a person, in your career.

There are a plethora of things of which I am unsure, but one thing I can safely swear is that your music is something that will remain timeless to me. Regardless of how you choose to live your life, regardless of how your outlook affects your appeal, regardless of what people say, and regardless of whether your lyrics even actually mean anything to you, you ought to know that what you produce means more to me than who you are and what you do, and perhaps to a good majority of your faithful “fans.” I appreciate having a musical outlet for my emotions, and for having found some comfort in being able to relate to your songs. I don’t love you. But thank you for the soundtrack you’ve written, because my life would be kind of silent without it.

[unsent] photos: google.com/imghp

bliss

"I know what people mean when they say they feel as if they're floating. That's the way I felt, as if my feet weren't attached to the ground, as if they were bouncing off the floor, touching lightly, and bouncing again. And inside me, it was as if bubbles were drifting, bumping gently into each other. I was happy. No, that doesn't even describe it. I was... jubilant, ecstatic. I drew it using all the pencils– yellows and oranges, pinks and blues. I drew purple shoes on my feet and wings on my shoulders. My eyes were closed, the way you see pictures of angels sometimes with their eyelashes down on their cheeks. So does it make sense that I wasn't thinking? That all that floating and all those bubbles made me think I could do anything?" -Pictures of Hollis Woods by Patricia Reilly Giff

modesty is a virtue.

it's all a matter of existing in the intermediate. if you give too much of yourself away, you're sure to get swept up in the breeze.

in some cases, we are so un-modest, we can't be satisfied with one face; we switch off between two. if you put your pride so far out, it has the potential of becoming something that's not you, and then what? you're stuck with associations and assumptions that you might not want or need to own. long story short, authenticity requires some degree of humility.

to be modest, we must be like a rose. as we bloom, we open and learn as we experience new things. but modesty requires some reserve. thorns are not meant as daggers, but as armor. they aren't intended to cause harm, to offend, to obstruct or to intimidate; they're there to defend, protect and preserve the beauty on the inside. it's not hiding, it's just cautious. simple. aware of itself, and revealing only what is necessary for the world to know it for what it is. if you live life like a daisy, stretching your petals as far as they'll go, it won't be long before you wilt from the sun or get plucked, petal by petal, under the reliance of some wishful thinker.

i don't claim to know much, but i offer the challenge to think not highly of yourself, but higher than yourself.

bloom, be, and be beautiful. recognize what is beautiful in the world and the world will recognize the beauty in you.

Desiderata: quite possibly my favorite philosophy.

by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;

and listen to others,

even the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,

they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals;

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.