Dumbed down and numbed

By time and age.

Today's list of facts:

My roommate gets married in thirteen days.
I'm going to Manistee, MI for 4 July weekend.
I'm not sure if that's a good idea yet.
I feel like I'm being replaced.
Does that really matter if I'm leaving?
I wrote a bit yesterday.
I went to a show alone last night and wrote a whole lot more.
If I played guitar well enough, the fragments I wrote would become songs.
I've been drinking Kava Cool Complex.
It works well enough that I wonder if I need something stronger.
I thought The Crazy had leveled off.
I forgot that going off of birth control has just as many side effects as being on it.
I've been doing the gluten free thing for a little while now and I definitely feel better.
This is my second-to-last Thursday of work in Kalamazoo.
I miss having someone to talk to about Jesus.
I miss days of prayer.
I miss you.
The pieces of a million puzzles have come together at the same time and I'm doing my best to figure out what goes where.
Even though I rarely see my family now, I'm going to miss randomly being able to catch rides to see them.
Moving to Arizona is finally starting to seem like a good idea.
I don't know where I belong. Or how or with whom or if I do at all.
There's supposed to be a going away party for me but it's just another summer excuse to drink.
I don't really like Dave Matthews all that much.
Every time I admit that, I feel like I'm committing a sin.
If you ask me to tell you who I am, I don't know that I would be able to do it.

In your words, I begin to understand myself. Please, don't take them away.

-Theresa

I could be

There's no limit to the things we can and cannot not be. Right?

I could be:

a teacher.
alive forever.
a writer.
someone with a career.
a best friend.
somewhere else.
anywhere else.
a wife.
a mother.
less intimidating.
in love.
better.
a strong swimmer.
taller.
tall.
better dressed.
alive at all.

I have these plans to start something new. I'm going to follow through with them. My head is full of words and words and sentiments. They keep me company.

-Theresa

Make your own kind of music...

We use all sorts of factors to try and define the world and people around us. I never get more confused than when I have to answer the question "So what kind of music do you like?" It's not a particularly difficult question to answer. I know what I like when I hear it. But it is hard to define with a word or two. So I've stopped trying.

These are my preferences:

I prefer the sound of stringed instruments over wind instruments. Even though I was in band for nine years and played a variety of wind instruments in that time, I am more drawn to the sound of strings. Piano counts. However, I will probably turn into a puddle at the sound of a well-played bassoon or oboe. That being said, I love strings and double reed winds.

While it is the sound of a song that draws me in, it is good lyrical composition that holds my attention.

I have more respect for musicians who write their own music and lyrics than those who don't.

When it comes to bass, I prefer upright over electric and bowed over plucked.

Similarly, I prefer acoustic guitar over electric. However, I appreciate strummed songs just as much as picked ones.

I like songs without a chorus but don't necessarily prefer them.

If someone's song seems earnest but doesn't sound the best, I appreciate the effort and probably like it. (See: Paul Baribeau.)

A voice breaking in a song automatically earns it points if only for the singer's sincerity while singing.

Strong vocals are good vocals. But they are not necessary.

I've never met a song with cello accompaniment I didn't like.

Fast or slow doesn't matter as long as the tempo matches the intent of the song. Regardless, I like sad songs that sound happy and happy songs that sound sad.

I do prefer the sound of a strong melody over rapping or screaming however, I do like some rap and some hardcore.

I prefer real percussion instruments over drum machines, even if it's just a xylophone.

I was raised on Peter, Paul & Mary and will always appreciate their music. However, I think they sound better on vinyl than mp3.

There is no style of music I don't like.

If I tried, I could say that my favorite kind of music at the moment is indie-folk but that's not a full definition.

Off the top of my head and with no filter, these are the bands I can remember seeing live in the order I can remember: Peter, Paul & Mary, Hanson, Backstreet Boys, Nine Inch Nails, Tool, A Perfect Circle, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Avett Brothers, Michael Beauchamp, Garbage, Alanis Morissette, Mates of State, Chris Bathgate, Breathe Owl Breathe, Queens of the Stoneage, Ben Folds, Rufus Wainwright, Guster, The Fray, Ben Lee. There are more, I'm sure. It's not a very wide variety but it's wide enough that they don't all fall into the same category. Yes, I'm a little embarrassed by some of those. But not Hanson.

My ears tend to lean toward male vocals but not always. (Regina Spektor, Tegan and Sara, A Fine Frenzy, Rilo Kiley, Loretta Lynn...)

"A good song" is defined as a song that makes me feel things.

While there are some bands I don't have a taste for, I appreciate all types of music.

While there are distinguishing characteristics of the music I tend to prefer, I have a difficult time choosing just one type of music I like because I like so much of it. So if you ask me what type of music I like, I may tell you that I don't know. If I respond with "a little of everything," I sort of believe that.

-Theresa

Few words could open me

But you knew them all.

I'm as confused as you are about what happened. But I didn't make any assumptions. And I didn't take any action. And I've made no reaction. The hang up is that I'm as genuinely confused as you say you are.

I wasn't angry. I'm still not angry. I could define what I am now as hurt. I could but I won't. There are no winners or losers in this situation. You declared your confusion with practiced strikes of a keyboard. I understood that "..." meant that you wanted some sort of response. You wanted closure or reconciliation. I refused to give you either. All I wanted to do was tear you down and I made promises to myself that I wouldn't do that anymore. I'm no longer in the habit of blaming others for the things that happen involving me. I'm no longer in the habit of blaming myself. Though you and I are no longer friends, elation doesn't begin to describe the feeling of again speaking to someone whose loss I didn't understand. I understand now. I am comforted by my decisions to neither tear you down nor offer friendship. While I do not hold your actions against you, I don't want you in my life. And I think that's okay.

While I could say these things to you instead of typing them here, I won't. While these words are not hidden and could be considered a passive-aggressive gesture, I believe you already know all these things are true. On some level, you understand.

It feels like I'm running away. But I'm not. I have to keep reminding myself of that. Just because I'm happy to leave things behind does not mean it was not the natural course to take. Yes, I'm leaving Kalamazoo and moving to Tempe. But it's because my heart is not in this place. And I know what that means.

I know where to be looking. Why am I not?

-Theresa

Grab the Kids and the Cats

And let's go.

I had thought The Crazy had leveled off. Yesterday, in a moment of weakness and frustration, I found myself curled in a ball, eating Mexican dip, trying not to cry while watching a Nickelodeon movie I had rented from the library. Ah, let the good times roll. Rather than waiting for my real life to begin, perhaps I'll just attack the life I have head on and demand the best out of it. By putting the best of myself into it. While feeling sorry for myself last night, I wondered what of me there was left. Dramatic, I know. Ten hours of sleep helped a lot.

I've been reading quite a few teen books lately. Books written for a fifteen year-old aren't much different than books written for adults. I suppose there's only really one storyline to follow as opposed to multiple ones. To be perfectly honest, I don't need multiple story lines. There's enough going on in my head. And I read lots of "smart books" when I was in school. And even after I graduated. But my mind needs a break. I'm happily reading The Princess Diaries series by Meg Cabot. I'd heard many good things about it. The main character is in her teens and even though I'm not a princess or a princess in training, I still worry about the same things: The food I eat, the people I consider friends and for the love of God, why are boys so stupid? I also finished The Giver today. I don't know how, in all my years of education, I managed to miss that book. I shouldn't give in to the Sameness. But I suppose that's never been my problem.

I really enjoyed my guitar lesson this week. My left hand hurt a lot afterward. We worked on picking. More specifically Freight Train and The Ballad of Love and Hate. I still suck. A lot. But I'm loving every minute of it. I'm going to miss these Thursday nights.

Things I'm worried about:

Driving to Arizona.
Having saved enough money for the two months I'll be unemployed.
Actually moving.
Worrying too much.
Packing.
My appointment with another specialist in July.
The Crazy.

Things will get better. This is just a valley. Right?

-Theresa