This weekend has been all about the music for me. Thursday night I made two CDs, one for putting a passenger to sleep (don’t ask, but the CD was full of my favorite Seal songs), and one for when I wanted to scream my heart out tunelessly–Conjure One, Enigma, Dido, and a little Sneaker Pimps. My poor passenger Friday morning listened to me croon along with Seal for an hour. Turns out I screamed with Linkin Park on the way home.
I hit you and you hit me back
We fall to the floor / the rest of the day stands still
Fine line between this and that
When things go wrong I pretend the past isn’t real
Now I’m trapped in this memory — Linkin Park, “With You”, Hybrid Theory
Friday and Friday night were wonderful and stressful and painful and hard. I had no music on Friday, although I burned two Tool CDs. In fact, I feel like Friday was just a very silent day for me.
On Saturday, I attended Commencement with WO. I was so so proud of my boys (Luke [no matter what], Dr. 7, Big V, Sexy Short Stuff, Sexy Leprechaun, D., Sexy Sockets, all of ’em). When it was done, I said my goodbyes to WO and went back to my room to pack and move into the apartment. I blasted Amel Larrieux and (a little) Brandy that afternoon.
Oh life has just begun
Got a temper like a gun
Pointing it at everyone
That’s his game
And it helps him to get through the day
But a voice inside him says
How much longer can I play?
He’s got infinite possibilities
I can see them now
It’s the unbroken chains of his past by which he’s bound
He’s got infinite possibilities
I can feel them now
If he chooses well, then nothing can tear him down
Peace of mind
Is not easy for him to find
And he’s walkin’ a thinner line
In a place where another man is keeping his time
Though he’s young
He’s not like everyone
He sees what he’s become
And he’d rather be standing in the sun — Amel Larrieux, “Infinite Possibilities”, Infinite Possibilities
I’m not sure who all exactly was on my mind there, but there was much singing and crying.
Hey, lack of sleep turns me into a crybaby…
I took a load of stuff over to the apartment just as Luke and his family were finishing up. Mr. S and Luke’s grandfather left me with that big, beautiful desk of Luke’s, so I was happy. I don’t quite know who all the people were who were there (some aunts/uncles, grandparents, and parents, as far as I know), but they were friendly and had nice accents (*grin*), so I was comfortable. I dropped three loads of stuff off at the apartment, saw WO one last time, then picked T-dawg up from the curb where he’d sat and watched me pack my car three times.
Don’t ask. I think he’s on a quest to force me to ask for help, but I was in a grim enough mood that I didn’t dare open my mouth.
T. was headed for Japan but didn’t have a place to stay for Sunday, so I offered to take him to Cincinatti with me until Monday morning. I slipped my “Live strong” bracelet on (courtesy of Mae–so very symbolic for us both), and we headed out of the Dirty Dirty around 18:00. Turns out I had a use for my Conjure One/Enigma/Dido CD, and I’ll say now that it’s probably one of the best orchestrated CDs I’ve put together (albeit by luck), as the music transitioned from Conjure One’s raw wordless emotion to Enigma’s mixture of simple lyrics and still-emotional music to Dido’s lyrical, thoughtful music. I stuck on the Conjure One to Enigma transition for a while (“repeat one” is fun) but managed to finish the CD with minimal teariness.
By the time I was done with that CD, I was ready for putting words on my feelings and thoughts.
We got in town late, and promptly got lost for 45 minutes in Florence. Hell, I’ve only been to the apartment from the interstate two or three times. Sue me.
I slept in nice and late on Sunday while T-dawg entertained Ali with card tricks and playing imagination games. When I got up, we acquired food and T-dawg hung out while I
stole packed up the things I wanted to take to my apartment. Like my mother’s cookware. And my father’s Fontopia noise-canceling headphones. Notable on the soundtrack for this endeavor was Brandy’s “Saddidy” (and more Amel Larrieux, but no crying).
My mother had actually gone hog-wild in buying kitchen stuff she thought I’d need, so we’re set for dishes, dish towels, and cookware.
I packed up my car that evening and chatted with the Old Man until the wee hours of the morn. After two measly hours of sleep, I got up and drove T-dawg to the Indy airport. Soundtrack was my Conjure One/Enigma/Dido CD again, but this time I lodged on the Dido section, which T-dawg loved. He was particularly fond of “Slide”, which he said would make a wonderful anime music video.
I am surrounded by anime lovers. I will take my “Naruto” (which is apparently also a manga [which I can’t read]) and my “Onegai sensei” (which is very cute and funny) and be entertained.
Even on a day like this, when you’re crawling on the floor
Reaching for the ‘phone to ring anyone who knows you anymore
It’s all right to make mistakes, you’re only human
Inside everybody’s hiding something
Staring at the same four walls, have you tried to help yourself
The rings around your eyes they don’t hide that you need to get some rest
It’s all right to make mistakes you’re only human
Inside everybody’s hiding something
Take time to catch your breath and choose your moment
Don’t slide — Dido, “Slide”, No Angel
He even booted up his laptop and showed me a music video for a Linkin Park song (hell if I don’t remember which it is now, though). Driving while glancing repeatedly at a laptop screen in the passenger’s seat at 70 miles per hour after only two hours of sleep is probably not the safest thing to do…
I spent the last leg of the trip (from the airport to the apartment) listening to my little anthem of the day.
If you gave me just a coin for every time we say goodbye
Well, I’d be rich beyond my dreams
I’m sorry for my weary life
I know I’m not perfect but I can smile
And I hope that you see this heart behind my tired eyes
If you tell me that I can’t, I will, I will, I’ll try all night
And If I say I’m coming home, I’ll probably be out all night
I know I can be afraid but I’m alive
And I hope that you trust this heart behind my tired eyes
I’m no angel, but please don’t think that I won’t try and try
I’m no angel, but does that mean that I can’t live my life
I’m no angel, but please don’t think that I can’t cry
I’m no angel, but does that mean that I won’t fly — Dido, “No Angel”, No Angel
I barely made it to the apartment without sleeping at the wheel. I unloaded stuff, unpacked enough to be able to clear off the bed (Dr. 7 left futon stuff on the bed), then I crashed for about six hours. I woke up at 16:00, unpacked a little more, took care of some business at school, gassed up, and headed back to the soundtrack of local radio stations all the way home, including a nice Spanish-speaking station in Indy. The song playing when I halted on the station was in the same style as the popular Pitbull songs “Cujo” and “Toma”, but wasn’t quite so annoyingly growly and loud. I had to keep from giggling through the song at the thought of Pablo Francisco and his jokes, though.
Anyway, I’m back in the parent’s apartment until this Saturday, most likely. There shall be much rest and relaxation and running and cooking and rejuvenation and reading.