Beauty in Musical Words

Whenever I listen to music that has beautifully written lyrics I feel like my heart opens up and there is a deep emotional power that seeps into my soul. I think what I like most about lyrics are the fact that it is poetry put to sound. Even still, there are some lyrics that are so provoking that I envy the artist who can bring their thoughts to life like that. It is even better if amazing lyrics are set to even more amazing sounds. That is why I believe music is proof that there has to be a power greater than us out there, because honestly how could a bang in the sky create a world where the concept of music is born. There is no way something that beautiful and satisfying is created by a chance explosion. Music is a universal language of the heart.

Who says?

Maybe there are aliens.
Maybe there are pink and purple trees.
Maybe our solar system is hanging as a mobile over an infinite baby's crib.
Maybe my eyes are green, or maybe they're brown and blue.
What if I asked a question nobody had the answer to?
Maybe I have a garden.
Maybe you don't.
Maybe people can see right through me, or maybe they can't.
What would you do if they could?
What if  sickness caused me to have no hair on my head but instead a soul in my heart?
What if instead I have hair on my head but my heart had no soul?
Maybe you like to drive down the road and sing real loud.
Maybe you like to dance until you have nothing left in you.
What if somebody loved the way they danced?
Who says that we need to make sense of the world?
Maybe you have to make sense of the world, but what if I don't?
What if cat's stood up and made speeches?
What if honey bees started to make ketchup?
How many times do you have to drive around a block to look for a house number?
How many times will your heart beat in your lifetime?
Maybe there is no time in life unless your heart is beating.
Maybe you can tell me what I want to hear, or maybe you can't.

Either way, everyone is different and everyone is the same.

Twilmooclipsbrawn.

On one recent occasion I was browsing through my friends on Facebook as one conversation via status update caught my attention. A person I know was talking about a certain author who has recently become quite famous due to her series of books regarding vampires. This person was completely ripping the author a new one, stating that they actually hated her because her female character was the weakest female character in the history of literature and that the author could not write at all. Now, I have personally read these books and because I am quite familiar with many different literary styles, I can also attest to the fact that this author isn't some sort of Ernest Hemingway. The ideas in her book are not profound. There is no meaningful insight into the human character nor do the books delve into deep levels of intellectuality. However, what troubled me was the fact that this person said they hated someone they do not even know.
About two weeks ago I was on the threshold of starting a new literature class. I showed up for the first day but quickly realized I would be unable to continue it due to the already compounded amount of homework I have each night. But as I listened to the professor describe the type of fictional literature we would be reading in class, they mentioned it would not be the trash that plagues the shelves of decent bookstores. My immediate thought was a reference to the fictional series about vampires.
What is it with people hating on the author so much? I don't see their names all over the place, their stories hitting the big screen, or their merchandise in Hot Topic. Why is this particular author given such a bad rep? The biggest problem most literary buffs have with her is that she adds nothing of value to the world of literature. I beg to differ. I in fact believe that she does. The purpose of her books are to get people to read. She put down her thoughts in a creative way and she was successful. Her chapters keep readers enticed. I have heard countless debates over which male character should win the heart of the female protagonist. This is what I believe is the beauty of her work. It gets people to discuss her books, to enjoy something other than the monotony of life. So what if her books happen to appeal to a majority of pre-teen girls, at least they're reading! Nobody ever asked people to take it upon themselves to read her work, and yet they are which I find is the point of her success. Books are meant to be enjoyed; to be talked about with others. For one to say that another person's writing is trash seems to me to be absurdly judgemental. If someone is so concerned about the trash infecting the shelves of bookstores, why don't they do something about it?

(P.S. If the person/s I have written about happen to read this, I just want to say that I'm not trying to offend you but am simply giving my opinion about the matter as well!)

Powerful Love of Powells

This store is the literal reason why I personally do not ever see myself leaving Portland. A dear friend of mine described it like this, "it's an orgasm for book lovers." Which, despite the graphical nature of that statement I whole-heartily agree with. When I first walked in to Powells I felt these 4 powerful physical symptoms:
1. Butterflies in the stomach
2. Rapid heart palpitations
3. Heightend sense of smell which caused me to breathe deeply the aroma of book glue and paper
4. The sense of overwhelming due to the fact that Powells stretches over a block and has four stories.
So far I've taken it upon myself to explore the realms of the Classic Literature section, the Rare Book Room, and the Children's section (all 7 of the Harry Potter books at half price because they're used!). There's no telling what may come of me at that store nor the amount of money I might spend there. But a word to my family should they ever have a reason to believe I've gone missing... check Powells first before calling the police.

Birkenstock Feelings

When I created this blog my main goal was to write about things people could relate to. The rule I made for myself was to never complain about anything, beacuse who wants to read that? But today I think I might make an exception to that rule because I feel what I have to say can be related to by many (or perhaps I'm just in a people-hater mood, but oh well...).
As I was riding home on the train this past weekend I had the pleasure of sitting next to a very unique woman. She was short with shoulder length gray hair that hung limply to her face.She had no wrinkles around her eyes at all but she had considerable wrinkles that highlighted the area around her mouth. She was dressed in a way that I desribe as the "Northwest style", which includes zip off cargo pants, Birkenstocks, an old college sweatshirt, and a trusty back pack stocked with healthy snacks. Although she never formally introduced herself to me I feel as though I know just about everything that has been recently going on in her family. She first caught my attention when I saw a pen in her hand busying itself over a leather bound book sprawled open across her lap. When I looked farther down the page I caught a glance of a date and assumed the writing underneath was an entry. I thought to myself, "who writes in a diary anymore, let alone at the age of 50+ years old." But, as I do keep a blog I suppose I have no room to judge, right? Anyway, after about five minutes she started to talk to the man next to her, which I assumed was her husband, and if not then I'd have felt immensely sorry for this fellow. This woman started to delve deeply into the dynamics of her family. All of which included a recent death and a will that was being fought over; a step mother who keeps kicking her sister out of the house because of her life choices; the fact that she is the only one that anyone in her entire family will talk to about anything; and the way that she is very open to all of them and wants to solve problems by talking about her feelings but can't understand why nobody else wants to do the same. At that moment my situation felt like one of those instances where there I saw something really gross, but no matter what it was impossible to look away. Because I mean I really, really wanted to turn my attention elsewhere but as my ipod was dead and my phone had no service I was stuck listening to every word she said. And this is where I'm going to complain... I am sure this woman is very nice and has a good heart blah, blah, blah. But as I am so unlike her in the department of sharing deep feelings outloud in public I found it extremely invasive when I was literally stuck listening to what she had to say about her family. The man next to her was a particularly good sounding board though, there was no noise from him what so ever and I have a feeling she picked up on his apathy when, to top everything off, she asked, "Any thoughts, feelings, questions about this?" and his reply was, " Uh... yeah, you're a good sister." It was all I could do to stop from laughing out loud. And this returns me to my point; it is extremely important to talk about things that are on your mind, especially to those who love you and care about you. However, where the line needs to be drawn is when you're out in public. I was a victim to the circumstances, I had no choice but to hear what she was saying and I can gaurantee you that knowledge did not change my life. So people please, next time you are out and about and something is eating away in your mind and you feel as though you need to get it out, then by all means do! Just don't do it when you are stuck in a public place where those around you can't give you the privacy you deserve.

Music = Brand New

Sometimes when I feel like my life is gone crazy and I have no way to describe how I'm feeling I turn to music. Lyrics, especially good ones, are how I relate myself to songs. The one band I relate to the most is Brand New. They pretty much sum me up entirely in The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

"You are calm and reposed. Let your beauty unfold. Pale white like the skin streched over your bones. Spring keeps you ever closed. You are second hand smoke. You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins. Holding onto yourself the best you can. You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins."

Every line they write is amazing to me.

You Pick Me Up Where My Brain Leaves Off.

The music of my heart sings loudly today. I search for the words to tell you of the love I have for you. You are the only person in my life who has stayed consistent. You are my foundation, of which I build my hopes and dreams on.

I know countless words. Endless definitions. Spelling is not a problem, and grammar comes easily for me. But why do I fail to describe the emotions lingering on my heart? You fill me up there and overwhelm my soul. There is no more room to think, I can only feel the love I have for you.

When I see you my stomach turns into a gymnast, doing somersaults, flips, and cartwheels. My heart turns into a drum which keeps time in 6/8.

When I am not with you I yearn to be close to you. You are more comforting than a warm blanket and a cup of tea.

How did you transform my ordinary life into a fairytale, where my only thought is of nothing but you?