Musings On Music, And Other Small And Large Things

It’s 11PM, and I have a 6:30 with a student, and sleep is not on the horizon. I think this is a great time to re-resume my blog, diary, journal, memoir, or whatever else you would call it here on Opendiary.The main reason for me wanting to come here, of all places tonight, is because I, for once in a long while, have something to talk about.

Music.

Are there songs out there that, when you hear them, you are immediately transported to a specific time in your life? Do you feel the air on your face, the smell in your nose, the taste in your mouth? Do you even feel a regression of sorts? I know I do. I know that when I hear Mary Jane by Alanis Morrisette, I am walking down Kingston Road in Toronto in the middle of the night. I know that when I hear Stranded by Alien Ant Farm, I am walking past Maple Leaf gardens, on my way to that security school I went to so long ago. These are songs that were big, at least in my head, and became bookmarks for my life. Even songs that came on the radio, that you never had on CD might be a bookmark. I was going through the Alison thing when Crowd Surfing by Dunk was getting radio play.

Music is an unbelievably huge thing in my life. How I ever went through my formative years without it, I’ll never know. I know that the music I have listened to over my life has, in some small way, helped to shape the person I am. I sing every chance I get. I think I sing pretty good, but I’m not confident enough in it to sing around other people. I sing at work, which is wierd, since then there are people around all the time. It’s therapeutic. It’s uplifting. Hell, even singing sad songs is uplifting in its own way. I am currently listening to Heaven Coming Down by The Tea Party. It used to have so many parts of my life attached to it. It doesn’t any more. I have no idea why. maybe those parts weren’t worth keeping, maybe weren’t poignant enough or something. Either way, now it’s simply a song.

I even have songs that bring me back to times I don’t want to be at. I avoid those songs like the plague.

With a memory problem as bad as mine, maybe this is some primal way of coping. Like a security blanket of sorts, except that my inner payche, the part none of us, myself included, ever get to see, is the one who needs it. The memories are so vivid. The song Insomniac by Echobelly came on a while ago, and I remembered every detail of a night where I stayed up till morning with a girl I didn’t even know named sarah because she was afraid to go home and afraid to be out at night alone. Her boyfriend was going to be available to help her in the morning, but during that night, she was alone and scared. Bizarre, huh? I love that I can almost time travel, by using certain songs as my vehicle.

And now I digress, because I have no proper segue.

I spoke to my mother this morning, for the first time in a month. Massive OT does that to a person’s social life. She told me my brother Scott is in jail again.

I had spoken to him about a month ago.

HUGE EVENT DISCLAIMER!! LONGTIME READERS WILL SHIT RIGHT NOW!!

I spoke with him, and actually had a peaceful discussion. We were both frank, and he took notice that I had actually made good of my life. I had stepped up and gotten out of the gutter. I will be the first person in my entire family to have a degree. I am the first person in my family to leave the country. I am the first person in my family to not have a destructive relationship. I am the first person in my family to have something to look forward to. That feels good. He genuinely and sincerely apologized and asked forgiveness for his attempts to tear me down, to stop me in place and doom me to failure. He took ownership of the fact that he was the reason for all of the contention within our home. Most of all, he didn’t whine or cry about it. he owned it, and he decided to take control of himself. A little too late it seems, as a couple months before, he had attacked his boss at work, and the crime finally caught up with him.

From what I heard today, he has gotten himself into some violent situations in jail. It might continue. He might lose out to his animal side, to his narcissism, to any of his pletora of frailties. I truly hope he doesn’t. I truly hope he comes out on top. Not in the fighting sense. In the sense of having a life. I truly feel, in my heart, a love for my brother whom I once hated with a passion. If I could help him, I would. If I could reach him with even so much as words, I would. I hope he realises he’s worth it. I hope he doesn’t fail. If he does, it’s because he gave up.

My mother is worried sick. I wish I could get her to come down here. She won’t leave Canada if Scott can’t though, she worries so much about him. I worry about her. It’s a slurry of worry. I’ve been trying to find a use for that word. Inappropriate, yes, but still…very rhyme-y in its way.

My wife, my beautiful wonderful wife, Shasta, is pregnant. Not like last time, where it didn’t officially take. This is a bona-fide pregnancy. Whether it’s Delaney or Dalton, we don’t know. We do know it isn’t twins or triplets, the ultrasound told us that. Shasta has been insanely sick, though, 24 hour morning sickness. She’s been in the hospital for dehydration, and been told that she’s in starvation mode. The baby is fine. It will leech what it needs off her. It will survive. She, however, has lost 30 pounds in the past month. We have figured out a patter, though. Well, she has. The moment she throws up, when she finishes, she gorges. It has allowed her to keep her weight steady at least. She resigned from work last week. I got the insurance changed over, and documented everything, demanding all dealings in writing. No red tape here, thanks. She was happy to hear I was so thorough. I rarely am. She will be a stay-at-home mom, hence my massive overtime at work. It’s likely that she will either create her own business selling her handicrafts online, or she might sell Arbon. Either way, she won’t be so bored and lonely as she is now. Poor girl has never been home like this before. It really is a lonely thing.

We bought a new car. A 2005 Chevy Malibu Maxx. The wagon. Slate gray. Bad upholstery. I’ll get that changed soon enough though. It gets 32 miles to the gallon. Nice.

Oh, and we’re getting a dog ASAP.

And, Oblivion is freaking awesome.

Time for bed. It’s mignight. I wake in five hours. Did I mention I carpool with my boss? Hilarity ensues, I assure you.

Night night, all.

PS: My apologies for the many lapses in writing. Ar least I was thorough this time. Long-time readers, tell me where you are on here or elsewhere online. I can’t find most of you anymore. Note me.