the music city.

I've been living in Nashville for 2 months (tomorrow). And this city is everything I wanted it to be and more than what I'd hoped for. I'd lived here previously, so I didn't take much adjusting. Probably the most adjusting I've had to do so far was when I first got here, I was scrambling to see all of my friends. It was so ingrained in me that I would only be here for less than 24 hours that when people couldn't hang out, I was getting upset. When I was unpacking and setting up my room, I kept thinking "this is CRAZY. Why did I bring all of this stuff with me? I'm leaving, like, TOMORROW. Pack all of this back up." It was like I was forcing myself to unpack. Unpacking all of those familiar things and placing them in such foreign places, despite being different, it was extremely comfortable. My comfort level in this city amazes me. Yeah, it feels like home. Actually, in reality, it always did.

ramblings

I've been trying to write for 15 minutes everyday. It was an exercise we got into when I was in junior high, and it helped. A lot. It's healthy to have a stream of consciousness and write anything without fear of being judged. It's writing without a filter. This notebook isn't a personal journal, so I have no hesitancy in posting this. But I'd love to hear your thoughts on it and how much farther this can be taken.

(from 7.10.10)

I wonder what it'd be like to live on some other plane of existence, but I knew and remembered about my time here on this one. Maybe a universe where everybody's knees bent the other direction. Or music was a completely different entity -- or what if it didn't ever exist/wasn't invented? How much would that change an entire NATION/universe of people's lives? Holy SHIT. Expression would completely change. Art would change. What would their music sound like without the influence of previous artists? What would their very first song sound like? Could you teach them music without influencing them towards a certain style? How would they figure out rhythm or scales or tone or pitch or meter? Somebody would teach them, but what would it be like to watch that process unfold? Explaining something as common and diverse and complex as music to a person who has never heard it -- what would it be like? Or explaining any other idea/concept? It's wicked.

How would you describe feelings or emotions? Scientifically or artistically? I wouldn't be able to explain with words. I'd have to take what little talent I had and paint it. Or play a song. But not everyone has the same reaction to the same song.

I wonder if people, had they never heard of music, if they were wondering if they were missing out on something?

timing love.

I just watched the movie Timer last night with Emma Caulfield. A good friend recommended it to me over the summer, and it was well worth the watch.

Timer presents the idea of having a guaranteed true love. The characters have timers installed on their wrists that will tell them exactly when they will meet their "one". It's beautifully written, charming and honest.

After I had watched it, I kept thinking about it. I was up for awhile thinking about it actually. Wondering: Would I want to know? and What would I do if I did know?

The only two options I see in front of me would be to either 1) wait around or 2) live it up (because you know that no matter what you do, you'll have somebody, there's no guessing).

If I went with the first option, life would begin to lose it's zest and the reasons that life is so...live-able. It's the balance between heartache and romance and tears and laughter that make living worth it.

You could make yourself a better [prepared] person for spending the rest of your life with someone else, but the way these people were conditioned to think because of the timers, when your timer went off, you were meant to be. So people really took you as you were. There was no need to self-improve, no need to change to please a person or to adapt to that person.

In a way, it really takes away the "growing up" part of life. You're supposed to get hurt. How are you supposed to know what all the good things in life are without experiencing the bad? Life is balance, and you take one of those elements away, and suddenly everything is out of sync.

Not only will life lose it's zest, love songs would change. There wouldn't be a pining for anybody, you know they're there. It's just a matter of when your timer runs out.

There's always the notion of that comfort, knowing you're not alone and you'll eventually meet them. But for what? You bypass any and all other experiences that come your way because of something ticking on your wrist? Emma Caulfield's character, Oona, begins to lose hope when her timer has yet to turn on. So she looks for love outside of the schedule. And finds it. It breaks her heart, it makes her question things and wrestle with emotions she's never dealt with before. It's not until her timer actually turns on, that she realizes that she doesn't know anything outside of the "love schedule."

How incredibly frustrating is that? You would essentially spend your entire life waiting. Yeah, waiting for a surefire guarantee, but I don't know...I can't sit around. I get restless and antsy. I want experiences out of life, even if it gets me hurt. I'll take it all if it means living the most that I can.

"Living it up" is always an option. Her sister, Steph, does it. But she finds nothing in it. I don't find it appealing. Actually, I don't find either option appealing.

And there's different types of love. You can meet someone and immediately know or you can be friends and it'll "blossom into love". Love is it's own monster, I feel like you can't make it work to a scientific schedule. Or you shouldn't make it work to a scientific schedule. Forcing something out of anything is never right, and it's never the way to go. What if the timers were just self-fulfilling prophecies? You can choose a different path. You can go somewhere else. You can go where you want. You can do what you want. Living life to such a constraining lifestyle would be hell.

What do you think? Would you want to know? What would you do?

It's a nice gesture, these timers, but I prefer the mystery.

i'm not terribly great at poetry. but i wrote this yesterday. thoughts?

you need to know me

i need you, somebody, to know me

i have so many secrets that i want to share

so much of my soul that i want to bare

mustering up the courage to show you my heart (nobody's claimed it yet)

i'm not entirely sure anybody's wanted it

see, i haven't been careless, and i've tried being bold

but it's time to jump all in

head first.

whoever you are, let's do this.

unpredictability in all probability

Clear-headed.

That's what I am.

Clear-headed.

Strangely, it's the results of How I Met Your Mother. I'm learning so much about myself from this show. Things I thought I wanted and was ready for, are obviously not it at all. But I'm going to keep moving forward. Clear-headed. I'm going to make mistakes to learn from them. Yeah, I'll get my heart broken, but you know what? It's going to happen whether I have control over it or not.

I moved to Nashville for something new. Something different. Away from the rut I was finding myself in. I wanted new life experiences. I wanted adventure (the adventures of paying rent and bills and being an adult, sure...). And I'm getting it. I'm getting all of it. Bring it all on.

My heartbeat beats me senselessly

Why's everything gotta be so intense with me?

I'm trying to handle all this unpredictability

In all probability.

And I'll take it as it's thrown at me. Things are changing. I'm changing. My relationships are changing. You'll have that. There's no other way to deal with it then to just let it go.

Gone.

regarding my surroundings

I was inspired by my good friend Alex. (found here.) In his recent post, he wrote about "ambient composition" and how everything around you can be interpreted as music, despite being random. The pitch in the fan, the rhythm of the dryer and the syncopation of a text notification. All are random, but can and do have a musical quality to them.

I'm taking it one step further and perhaps in another direction.

Seeing as how Alex is musically inclined and partial to various pitches and rhythms and any other musical terminology he can drop in a conversation, he naturally notices these things. I'll hear them too, but it's not my forte. What I imagine when I'm sitting here on my couch is what's going on around me. Almost like the Power of 10 video we watched in junior high. Instead of adding another zero and expanding in an ever growing circumference, I imagine what's happening in the places I've been a part of.

I imagine what I would be hearing and smelling were I at home, in my old room. The sounds of my sister in the living room, watching tv. I hear a muted reality of what she is watching, voices as if they are talking through a pillow, bass frequencies lightly vibrating my floor/the living room's ceiling.

(The changes in pitch, frequency and general quality of sound amaze me, depending on your position and what lies between you and the source. Even listening to a test tone, one can bend the pitch depending on the way you turn your head.)

Then I glance over to a picture of my freshmen mentoring group from Milligan. We all lead different lives, most of us are married, some of us are single, and a couple still need to grow up and apologize for some things. A couple years ago, I may have felt a twinge of sadness, not being able to keep in touch with them. But I've let that go. I'll see them when I see them. No point in losing sleep over people who probably don't worry about not talking to you.

I move from the 8x10 to my wall of various concert posters and snapshots. These posters are reminders of memories that are either prominent in my mind, or just something that I know I did. I find some significance in them, but nothing of emotional importance. (When I packed to move, most of them were thrown out). They're just posters after all, not family heirlooms. So why did I feel a little pang as I tossed them into the garbage? With a strange sense of growing up accompanying it. Even now, my new room at my new house in my new city has a distinctly different feeling than the one in Chambersburg. (I need more pictures of friends though. My parents are bringing the rest of my stuff when they come down this weekend. Pictures will be with them.)

Remembering different facets of my room feels weird. Knowing those elements are no longer together, creating the image of 'me' that I wanted to project. My full-length mirror with more stuff on it than need-be so it didn't serve it's purpose of reflecting yourself back to you. The obnoxious orange and silver dresser my sister and I spray-painted one night. My nightstand that was a collage that was "in development" since 8th grade. All pieces from the past, but not things that I need to take with me into my future.

Future. Damn. It's hazy. But it's exciting. It's something to look forward to. And there's something new to look forward to.

So despite how many times I re-watch Firefly and Arrested Development, I'm eagerly looking forward.

And by "another direction" I mean something almost completely unrelated. But it works.

b.

mini-me. you complete me.

I found my copy of the 7th grade talent show. Watching that and seeing some friends that I haven't seen in awhile was awesome. Of course as soon as I was done watching I Facebooked everybody and told them of the gold that I had re-discovered.

How are you? How is your life? What's new? I hope everything is going wonderful. Or if not, you're on your way to wonderful.

(I find it kind of ridiculous that 8th graders are visiting campuses now. SO strange. Why do you have to start worrying about college so early? There's the second group! WHERE DO YOU COME FROM??)

I have one class left for the day and then it's the weekend. Yessss.

Vanessa and I are going to see Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D this weekend. The clown with the tearaway face will probably terrify me. Creepy.

Family Force 5 on Sunday. YES.

Okay, this is enough. I'm wasting internet.

(in sinister, evil, terrifying voice)
Here in a flash and gone without a trace!

b.