Musical Madness and Nostalgia

Music has always been my release.  I become lost in my own thoughts and turn to music. I will sink into my chair or the couch and remember that tranquility.  When I am happy, I tend to bop around and sing along to whatever music is playing, whether anyone else can hear it or if it’s in my head. I have connected with people over music for as long as I can remember.  Even if it’s them asking why or how I could listen to what I do. This year I hope to return to that by attending more concerts and regaining that sense of self that could always be achieved when I attended.  The anxiety that I feel in most social situations, the discomfort around throngs of people, the peopley atmosphere that typically bothers me… none of it presents itself in the concert settings.  Whether the symphony, a jazz performance, a local punk show, a national metal performance, a festival, all of it brings me to a place of peace and happiness. This may seem a bit ridiculous for those that have been witness to me in a mosh pit, but that release is what soothes any turmoil in my mind.

I have never been someone quick to anger. I’m non-confrontational, almost to a fault. I have never felt very comfortable letting my guard down for any period of time. Allowing those walls to fall leaves parts of me vulnerable, and that is terrifying to me.  Vulnerability in an emotional sense is scarier than any wound, any broken bone, any illness, or even death to me.  If someone gets through to that part of me, they are treasured.

On that note, I am smiling again. I don’t feel so isolated. I don’t feel like I’m wandering alone. I’m beginning to feel like myself again. It’s an amazing feeling.

hemingwaysometimesdestroyedwherewordsfail

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now for something completely different!

I was feeling nostalgic today. Thinking back to my youth, my rebellious days, my days of anti-feminine qualities.  I was ridiculous.  No dresses, no skirts, no pink, no flowery stuff, no mani/pedis, no heels, no make-up, I was the anti-girly girl. I must say it’s hard to wrap my head around with some of my tendencies nowadays.  I am almost completely anti-pants, 95% of the time wearing dresses or skirts, occasionally with leggings of some variety. Pinks have made their way into my regular wardrobe, as have pretty much all the colors of the rainbow. Don’t get me wrong, I still have plenty of black/grey/white/red, but I’m not limited to that anymore.  My favorite dresses are outer space, exploding TARDIS, skulls and flowers, as well as dinosaur fossils. It’s pretty awesome.  I can rock my various chucks just as easily as I can my stilettos and hooker boots or ballet flats. My nail techs keep their shop open late just to get me worked in when I need my manicure. I don’t wear make-up often, but I do wear it, and I have learned how to do it relatively well, though I keep it interesting when I can. I wear pigtails in my hair at least a few days a week. I have embraced being a woman, and a woman that can appreciate the less stereotypical feminine things as well.

I will yell louder at the football game them you.  I will get pissed at the the missed power-play opportunities in the hockey games. I will rock my jersey with a skirt and tights or my jeans if I’m feeling ok with pants that day!  I will shoot you in the head in Halo, and teabag your body afterwards! I will binge watch Star Trek or Walking Dead or Doctor Who, and I will watch the goriest of horror flicks too!

Give me my versatility any day of the week. Give me my ability to be a chameleon in social situations, or to stand out if I feel so inclined. I can get along with anyone, even if I despise every ounce of their being! I’m grateful that there aren’t many that fall in that category. Hatred takes too much energy. Sadness takes too much energy. You know what does the opposite? What gives energy? What enthusiastically encourages overall well-being and growth? The right connection, the right encouragement, the right understanding, and people that don’t judge you based on what you are like at your lowest. I wouldn’t trade the worst pain I have been through for anything.  It makes me stronger in the long run. It makes me better. It has made me the woman that I am, and I am happy about that.  Yes, there is always plenty of room for improvement, but as long as I make strides towards that better me, I will be happy with me.

mywordssoundbettertamethechaos

 

 

Leave a Reply

This blog is kept spam free by WP-SpamFree.