Music is truly magical for me. It can unlock my deepest emotions and bring to mind memories I had long forgotten. It’s incredible. I don’t know if many have that ability, but I do. Which is why sometimes I go through phases where I cannot bear to even listen to any music. I’m so overwhelmed with my current reality that all I am willing to listen to is spoken word (ie comedy albums, podcasts, audiobooks.) But sometimes even those can come accompanied with a euphoric recall. (Except for the book on tape “Rock your Revisions,” that just brings out agonizing anxiety.)
Like any writer worth their digital ink, I wanted to write throughout 2022. Specifically so I can hone my craft but also because I need to do things that are just for me. I need a hobby. I have to have something to alleviate the pressure inside my head. (The space in which I reside the most, by the way.)
Wanting this, I began to run through the parameters for myself. I considered writing everyday… But that is an unrealistic expectation. Life inevitably gets in the way. Especially mine. Which is why I have scaled it back to a more manageable and achievable goal, and in the end that’s how you want to do something. Therefore I thought once a week is good. In the end I will write 52 blog posts and have succeeded in completing my task.
While weekly is a more than manageable goal, the next obstacle is: what do I write about? The only thing I know more than my own imagined fantasies is my own life. I am also SUPER obsessed with myself. I mean… how could I not be? (P.S. I am kidding… Sort of.) There is nothing I love to talk about more than myself. And the topic I enjoy even more is sifting through memories.
The one thing that trauma and emotional distress has shown me is that it loves to take away my memory. My brain used to be sharp as an obsidian arrowhead but since the death of my father, my mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, my husbands terminal diagnosis, and fucking covid, what super brain-power I use to have has fallen by the wayside. Instead I am lucky if I can hold onto short-term tasks. It sucks. Therefore… music.
Trauma may have taken my active memory recall, as in if I try to specifically remember something specific I cannot, however music remains powerful. So, I am going to pick a song, an album, or even a mundane tune, I’ve heard over the course of my life that has attached itself to my memory and write about it. Hopefully these posts won’t be as longwinded as these last two sentences. (Good lawd.) And even on an off-day, when I can barely hold onto my sanity, I’ll use a new diddy to write about something equally undiscovered. The best part of all this: I get to share some music with you. And more than the love I have for talking about myself, and even more than reminiscing about the past, I am excited/elated/ecstatic to share a song with someone. It’s one of my weird love languages. If I send a song to you, it means it unlocked apart of me that thought of you and that will live with me forever. It can and never will be replaced/erased. It belongs to you.