Archive.The Future.Sign.Diaryland

2001-12-16

Late At Night When The Woods Call Me Near

There are times when I wonder what I would do if music ceased to exist. I don't think I would get very far in life. Music is everything to me. I can't stand not having it. I hear it in my head every hour of the day. It flows through me whenever I listen to it. That's why I get so defensive when others insult a song I like, or an artist. It seems like they've insulted my soul, my blood. They dislike me. I can't handle that, I explode within. I lash out at them with smart mouthed questions of what they have against my music, why they feel the need to sneer at it. They usually don't have pleasing answers, because they insult without thinking first. Maybe if people did that more often, they wouldn't be so quick to say hate.

Sometimes I feel like lying awake all night with all the windows in the house open on a cool winter night. I would listen to the sounds of the trains that run around my street. I would listen to the squeaking and whisper of the tracks. I would strain to hear the freezing wind as it would blow through the windows. The house would grow cold and I would shiver. I would watch as my breath turned into smoke and drift away into the hall. It would be nice to do that one time.

When I'm home alone, completely and utterly by myself, I sing. I sing really loudly, as loud and free as my voice would allow. I sing sweet, slow songs that mean a lot to me. I sing with my true singing voice and sometimes I tape myself. It's strange how you don't sound the same on tape as what you hear in your own head. It's annoying sometimes. My voice sounds really high on tape and I wonder if that's what everybody else hears.

A lot of times I dream that I'm a character in a book I had been reading recently. I dream that I'm a beautiful girl, attracting all the guys in the book with charm and mystery. Could that be a portrayal of who I want to be? Possibly, but I'm nothing like that in reality. Sometimes I feel like I am a character from a book. Every little thing I do is written down in detail somewhere. That would be interesting if one day I picked up a random book and found that it was my story, written to the day.

It has finally snowed here and I am grateful. I'm pleased that this mean I can start skiing again, something I love doing. Winter is a wonderful, magical season. As Hannukah finished, I think to myself about how many people are just beginning to plan their holiday feasts for that eve when the jolly red man flies across the moon. Wouldn't it be spectacular if there really was a Santa Claus? A real miracle on 34th street?

In case any of you were wondering, I didn't pass my bronze cross exam. I got 80% on the written, but didn't get my time swim. Due to that, I failed automatically. I continued on though, even if it didn't mean anything it was good practice. I'll have to take the course again. What annoys me most is, I could have passed, but I was fifty eight seconds too much.

Previous Next