(no subject)
Nov. 9th, 2012 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressI need music, too.
My life --when I'm not acting big-D Depressed1, when I'm not terrifying myself with my lack of existence-- has a significant component of introspection to it. I mean, I've kept a livejournal for nine fucking years and I'm not famous. Writing about myself is one of the most central things I do. In just my last post, I discussed that one of the things I need to do to keep myself sane is write, and it's true.
But I need music too. Sanity, stability, the ways that I present whole: these things take more than just a keyoard or pen. I need to eat. I need to get not too little social interaction, and not too much. I need to spend time alone, doing nothing of import. I need sunshine, and warmth, and physical comfort.
And I need music. For more than half my life, until I was blessed with a computer of my own in 2003, I existed without music of my own. Oh, sometimes I could watch movies and rewind the songs again and again2, but that was dependent on access to the television, a limited and desirable good. But then I had Dmitri, and he lived inside my bedroom, and not too long after I learned that I could put music I had heard onto his hard drive and listen to it whenever I wanted.
I don't often try to categorize the pivotal moments of my emotional development, but that well ought to be on the list. Because it took very little time at all until I actually started using that music: to distract, to lift, to heal.
And I still don't think of myself as musical. I have no identity invested in the fact that I require the voices of a thousand others to settle the ones inside my own devilish head. And so periods go by -a week, two, three- where I don't listen at all. They're always horrible. More so because it can take so long to figure out what is wrong at all. And even when I do...it's somedays so hard to fix.
I don't want to overwhelm my roommates3 with my music (especially not at the volumes I require --remember I live much of my life with an intensity overwhelming), so I do not play it aloud. Nor do I want to shut myself off socially, so I do not play it in headphones. And so long goes by where I do not play music at all.
This post is a reminder to stop that. In recent days I have been with friends who leave their music on in the background, something to lean against as they perform their days. I want that to be my home. Because I need music.
And maybe writing that down will help remind me.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I'm not, to the best of my knowledge, Depressed. I exhibit symptoms sometimes, but as far as I can tell, they're well within the bounds of neurotypical mood swings.
2: Labyrinth and Cats were probably the two most common offenders. To this day, I can sing every word of Dance Magic Dance *and* do all the voices.
3: I mean, I do play it sometimes when I'm on my computer in the living room, or when I'm trying to cook. My roommates are totally fine with that. But sometimes, I justwantneed to play the same song fifty times in a row at 11 and I am not so uncouth as to think that would not bother others.
My life --when I'm not acting big-D Depressed1, when I'm not terrifying myself with my lack of existence-- has a significant component of introspection to it. I mean, I've kept a livejournal for nine fucking years and I'm not famous. Writing about myself is one of the most central things I do. In just my last post, I discussed that one of the things I need to do to keep myself sane is write, and it's true.
But I need music too. Sanity, stability, the ways that I present whole: these things take more than just a keyoard or pen. I need to eat. I need to get not too little social interaction, and not too much. I need to spend time alone, doing nothing of import. I need sunshine, and warmth, and physical comfort.
And I need music. For more than half my life, until I was blessed with a computer of my own in 2003, I existed without music of my own. Oh, sometimes I could watch movies and rewind the songs again and again2, but that was dependent on access to the television, a limited and desirable good. But then I had Dmitri, and he lived inside my bedroom, and not too long after I learned that I could put music I had heard onto his hard drive and listen to it whenever I wanted.
I don't often try to categorize the pivotal moments of my emotional development, but that well ought to be on the list. Because it took very little time at all until I actually started using that music: to distract, to lift, to heal.
And I still don't think of myself as musical. I have no identity invested in the fact that I require the voices of a thousand others to settle the ones inside my own devilish head. And so periods go by -a week, two, three- where I don't listen at all. They're always horrible. More so because it can take so long to figure out what is wrong at all. And even when I do...it's somedays so hard to fix.
I don't want to overwhelm my roommates3 with my music (especially not at the volumes I require --remember I live much of my life with an intensity overwhelming), so I do not play it aloud. Nor do I want to shut myself off socially, so I do not play it in headphones. And so long goes by where I do not play music at all.
This post is a reminder to stop that. In recent days I have been with friends who leave their music on in the background, something to lean against as they perform their days. I want that to be my home. Because I need music.
And maybe writing that down will help remind me.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I'm not, to the best of my knowledge, Depressed. I exhibit symptoms sometimes, but as far as I can tell, they're well within the bounds of neurotypical mood swings.
2: Labyrinth and Cats were probably the two most common offenders. To this day, I can sing every word of Dance Magic Dance *and* do all the voices.
3: I mean, I do play it sometimes when I'm on my computer in the living room, or when I'm trying to cook. My roommates are totally fine with that. But sometimes, I just
no subject
on 2012-11-10 04:28 am (UTC)3-4 days seems to be my limit, where lack of music starts crystallizing some part of my psyche and making my good moods more fragile, my bad moods more enduring.
(Though there seem to be exceptions. I rarely get to listen to music at cons, but am fine. Probably getting something else fulfilling the same brain-need?)