Melody

So, I've been sitting here, staring at the seashells on my desk, and thinking quite passionately about toes ... when it occurred to me.

Woah. Music.

I mean, let me tell you, this was a pretty huge then-it-occurred-to-me moment, cause I managed to completely forget about toes. See, my iTunes is constantly playing in my room. Never is there a moment of silence or emptiness. Whether it is Mozart (yes I have him on my iPod. Don't judge, it makes you smarter.) or alternative or blues or punk or rock ... all different kinds of sounds and notes swirling playfully around my room, squeezing into every crack and corner, caressing every living or nonliving being in reach with its quick invisible hands.

I listen to all different kinds of music. It all depends on what mood I'm in. Sometimes the best choice, though, is a song without any words. Like, for instance, just strings, or piano, or a score from a movie you liked. When you take the lyric out of a piece of music, instead of lessening its value, you only purify it. You force the song to tell its story without the aid of the spoken word. In listening to this kind of music, I have become quite fluent in a language that is unknowingly used in every corner of this world.

And music has been -- and will, no doubt, always be -- a part of every culture ever made. Whether it be crickets chirping, or banging on old trash cans, or a more sophisticated form of instrument used, music has been a means of telling stories in a way that gives the listener no doubt of the meaning and raw emotion this is conveyed through a melody.

I mean even the word 'melody' sounds like a song. Go on. Say it out loud to yourself right now. Gah! I love those words that let your tongue just hug the word before it lays it out before you. It's one of those cool words that looks and sounds like its meaning, like voluptuous. Or guffaw. (Go ahead. Look the words up if you need to.)

My favorite types of instruments are the strings. Oh, there is nothing more gorgeous than a string quartet. They literally make me melt into a puddle of mush inside. The way that they can pull off the note in just one quivering pull of their hand. You know, the note. That one note that just leaves you leaning forward, your heart having skipped a beat and your lungs forgetting to breath. The note that seems to take a warm fuzzy blanket and lay it all around the world and tuck it in safely. I love that note. When that note hits my ear drums it seems like everything in the entire world is suddenly okay.

The instrument that I am most able to utilize however, is my voice. Yes, this does count as an instrument. You must warm up, and cool down. You must practice all the time to keep it in tune. You're whole body is your instrument when you sing. Me? I sing all the time. Not just like, in the shower or when I'm alone in my room holding a hair brush to my mouth like a microphone. No. I sing all the time. Making breakfast, doing the barn chores, riding the horse, doing my hair, waiting for the bus, walking down the street, watching TV.... If I'm not eating, sleeping, reading, talking, or pondering the meaning of life quietly to myself, I'm probably singing. Does it get on peoples nerves? Yeah. I mean, I don't think of myself as an excellent singer. I think that I can carry a note sure, but really above all, I just really enjoy it. Because it means that I can tell a story through a melody too. It brings me as much pleasure as acting. Singing is just another form of acting really.

Anyway. What I really meant to say was, I really enjoy music. Who doesn't right? But just letting it know how much it means to me. Peace Out.

I'm off to listen to Liszt. (Go ahead. Look him up if you need to.)