Rythmic Dillussions

And it’s weird because the power of music illumines feelings in me that nothing else or anyone else ever could. On a constant basis I’m listening to my melodramatic tunes; feeling the vibrations in my head; letting the words linger throughout my mind and body; on the bus, at home, in the car—the music follows me everywhere. It has and continues to be a space where I can feel however I want, think what ever I want and be whoever I want. I believe it’s fair to say, that music fills each of us and transpires into a million different meanings at different points of our lives

needIt scares me when I realize though, the power music has over me. How it can prompt the emergence of tears, of laughter, of empathy, of sorrow, of excitement and of craziness—and by craziness, I mean the times I breakout in dance moves in front of my mirror; that’s right, no shame.

to It’s every so often that I find a song that shakes me to the core. Today it was “Ballerina” by Leona Naess. Unless you want your mood to drop, don’t listen to it. It’s a beautiful song really, just a little gloomy, yet somehow I can’t turn it off. My life—well lets just say it’s a little ironic in the way it works; in the way I work; in the way my head works. When people are feeling down, they’ll usually fill their heads with the musical vibrations of happy sounds—the likings of Andy Kim’s “Sugar, Sugar” and Debra Cox’s “Beautiful U R” –and the many more that I currently can’t recall. For me however, it’s quite the opposite.

yellFor this city girl, it’s mellow music that I would rather, that I need to listen to in order to get through whatever the hell I’m going through; which on a weekly, daily and hourly basis can be what I seem to think is a lot—mostly concerns with the missing and broken pieces of my life’s puzzle.

out It definitely sounds like I’m depicting my life is a tragic life story; it really isn’t. It has its great parts—the parts I am so thankful to have and the parts that lead me to turn on my gangster beats in appreciation. But everyone longs and wishes for what they can’t have; and everyone hopes and dreams that things come to them sooner than later, and I’m no different.

loudTruly though, what I’m getting at is that it jolts me that I can’t find an answer to why we feel such a special connection to music. It’s relatable to everyone—which is the simplest and only answer I can come up with. Any other views and answers that I’m missing out on? One thing I know for sure is that I definitely wouldn’t be able to get through life without it.
someIt’s a bit of a dangerous object though I think. It manipulates us, breeds actions and adds both unnecessary and necessary larger-than-life effects to daily events. For example, in films where individuals are on their deathbed and hand in hand with their loved one sitting beside them, the scene becomes ten times more effective when Enya’s “Only Time” comes on, than it would be without her soothing sounds. The music combined with images captivates the hearts of viewers and causes their tear ducts to emit uncontrollable tears—at least for me anyways. And in reality, something that can seem so little like a small and meaningless fight between friends can turn into something with much more of an emotional effect when you turn on a mellow track before bed.

placeIf life had a soundtrack, wouldn’t each action of life seem more—for lack of a better word—epic? Your first step; your first dance; your first successfully baked pie; your first rainy day kiss; your first child—would all prompt the perfect song to be played filling the space surrounding you in each of those larger-than-life moments.

to Music becomes a space where your heart accelerates its beats and where your fingers can tremor in life’s emotions. It’s a space of freedom and creativity.

call There’s an immense amount of beauty in music; in its words, its melodies and its rhythms—that is no lie. It can transpire into whatever you want it to be; it can relate to the best things of your life one day and the worst things the next.

mineIn essence, I guess part of me just loves the mysteries and power that music holds. Sometimes I wish I could be the main character in certain songs; where things always work out four minutes later. But for now, I think I can deal with taking my music in stride and being just an average city-girl.

The Last Day of October

Witches and Warlocks; princesses and princes; beauty’s and beasts; ghouls and ghosts; superheroes galore— some of the many Halloween costumes the kiddies came to our door in this Halloween. Innocent two; three; four; six; eight; ten; thirteen and then-some-year olds slipping on their dresses and from their over-sized batman masks as they climbed up the stairs. How cute they were with their big bright and toothless smiles pleaing not so much for trick, but instead treat. As kids swept the streets and pumpkins illumined pathways in neighbourhoods across the city during the early hours of the night, the hours that proceeded later weren’t so innocent and candy filled. Instead, Halloween transpired into a very different scary story in downtown Toronto where the nightlife was filled with Jokers and Mob Men; Pimps and Hoe’s; De-clothed police officers and jail bate runarounds; naughtier-than-naughty devils and less-than-angelic-angles.

Halloween is a day to look forward to all year round; not more than Christmas but more than Valentines. Oh, and definitely not more than Thanksgiving, but certainly more than Easter. It’s an excuse to dress up in anything or as anyone without looking crazy—for the most part. And for all the men in the world, it’s the one opportunity they have to dress up in girls’ clothing without having their heterosexuality questioned. The most enjoyable but challenging part of Halloween is deciding the night’s attire. Most individuals wish to dress as something creative, but fun; original but recognizable; sexy but not slutty—and again I stress, for the most part. Lastly, there are the few that wish to scare the skivvies off—if they’re not already off—of everyone else around them, by dressing in the goriest of gory attire possible.

BOO!This year F, L and myself decided that we would uniform ourselves as flash dancers/aerobics instructors for Halloween night. We were initially thrilled about it, considering we would get to wear tacky fluorescent colored clothing, headbands and leg warmers—though it seems they’re today’s current fashion anyways. As enthused as we were about that idea, it came and went when we thought of dressing as fire-fighters. F was on the fence about joining in our crusade, but in the ended joined forces as a sexy and gorgeous police officer along with M who was the cutest bunny of all and LS who kicked it into gear with her cowgirl attire.
Did ITo bring a touch of inner pizzazz to our costumes, L and I decided we would adorn our shirts with wording on the back that said “I put out” and on the front “Fire,” though I was the only one who followed through in the end. Originally, the shirt would suggest a failure of innocence on my part (which for the record, I totally am innocent) but then would disappoint upon turning around. Unfortunately my theory did not work out as planned. Instead, my suggestive shirt prompted the most horrid and cheesy lines from a handful of boys which included: “So you put out the heat eh? Well I’m the heat,” and “You put out fires right? Well you better hurry up and put me out cause I’m on fire.” Near the end, I had given my shirt too much credit and decided to brush the cheese of with some wine, and began responding with “Fire? Where? You’re definitely not on fire,” and “You don’t look like the heat.” Horrible I know. I’m really not that mean, I was just served way too much cheese but I won’t deny that I asked for it (but so did they!).
scareAnyways, our original plans for Halloween went astray considering our usual pub was packed and left no room for us to move, dance or breathe. Surviving it for no more than 45 minutes, we rushed out of there and headed to one of our favorite dives; McDonald’s. Sure, a bunny, cowgirl, two fire-fighters and a police officer in McDonalds wouldn’t seem like the picture perfect place to spend Halloween night, but it was. Those fatty fries and deliciously fake burgers were a blessing in disguise as they permitted us to avoid the crowds of confident and nearly-naked girls who took ‘sexy’ to a whole new level (if you know what I mean), and to avoid boys with the utmost unoriginal pickup lines and whose concern was to retrieve their ‘deserved’ assets. As much as originality wanted to be attained by all individuals alike (including myself but failed for my lack of creativity), and though the “Where’s Waldo’ costumes would be of utmost surprise, most had the same goal in mind; to dress or undress in any which way as Halloween offers the only night that justifiably provides that opportunity.
you?Next Halloween, I’d like to as me at age seven; dressed up as a big orange pumpkin and as happy as can be, skipping from door to door with my huge candy filled pillow case.
heheThe sad truth is that when you grow up, Halloweens aren’t filled with toothless smiles, bags full of candy, happy innocence and elementary school dances. Grown-up Halloweens are instead filled with bodies immersed in a sea of “sugar”, spice and not so much nice.

Ugh.

And the only reason I'll be happy if my University goes on strike is because I'll be able to get back to this; my pride and joy; my sanity.

Don't get anywhere. Tune in later this week for what will be epic entries.
Love.