You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'miscellania' category.
Sometimes, one part of a song really, really digs deep into who you are.
If you’re lucky, the whole song can send you into transcendence.
But usually, for me, only one line of an occasional song moves me.
Actually, it’s the combination of the words and music that get me: Poetry is great, music is wonderful, but if you put the right words and music together, they add up to more than the sum of their parts. Music and lyrics together can change a mood, a moment, the world.
I sometimes wonder about the people who make the music. Do they have a favorite part too? And, if so, how do they honor the time signature, keep tempo, and wait patiently until their favorite part unfolds?
Maybe it’s because they know it’s coming; undoubtedly, no question.
Maybe it’s this certainty that keeps them faithful to the song’s true rhythm and pacing, allowing them to savor the measures paving their way to perfection.
Maybe, if I had the patience of a musician, I could also endure the wait until what I am certain is coming.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that my story didn’t belong under the blog title “Me Again, Beasley,” so I’ve moved to this new, more comfortable location.
“Me Again, Beasley” appeared as the subject line in a spam message once, and I always thought it would make a great band name. Given that I will never have a band, I thought it would also make a great blog name.
I was wrong.
In the process of writing one of my usual neurotic emails to a friend, she paid me what I instantly realized was the ultimate compliment for someone like me: “I love your crazy.”
She really does.
And while holding myself to the challenge of writing honestly and from the heart, I have decided that I need to, too.
It’s not such a stretch. I’ve always enjoyed my crazy. I’ve always laughed about it. Telling stories about it keeps me humble and entertained. But it’s not until my friend gave it a big, wet kiss that I realized that, more than almost anything else about me, I love my crazy the most.
The only part I love more is its diligent guardian angel — the one that swoops in to clean up the messes my crazy makes when it knocks things over, obsesses about something silly, or says something in public that would have been best not to mention.
This newly-named blog will be told from the point of view of this angel, who realizes it would not be nearly as wise, insightful, or compassionate if not for the thing we both look after as we would a small, adorable child: my crazy.
Recent Comments