Slow Dancing in a Burning Room...

Explanation: Something that every writer should do is keep a journal... sometimes I feel like my best writing is when I just write about anything that comes to mind. Some of this may not make sense, some of it may be dark, but just go with it. I'll try to keep posting these along with other, more planned entries to mix things up. But here ya go :)

9/30/2011   2:19am

Slow dancing in a burning room. John Mayer really has something there, because it seems to be that same feeling I find myself returning to. The feeling that I’m counting down to something, surrounding by something that’s happening but I have no control, just waiting for it to consume me so I can know it. “We’re going down and you know that we’re doomed”  Not the happiest sentiment, but I relate to it more than I care for.

I wish I could put down in words the way blues guitar resonates, how it pierces to my inner core without me realizing. It sneaks up on me, and fills me with an unexplained beautiful melancholy that spurs nostalgia and analysis in reminiscence. Sometimes it makes me smile; happy mistakes and circumstance dance in my mind and I look back on times when the smile on my face seemed to catch from one day to the other. Other times I’m somber; the friends I’ve lost and bridges that have caught fire despite the best efforts to prevent the worst. I regret nothing, I know this for sure. Everything that has happened in my life is now a part of the person I am. Each bad decision led to better ones down the road, ones I may not have made without that previous knowledge.

Why is it that a song can stir feelings in me that I shouldn’t feel, or have no outlet for? A romantic song makes me feel romantic when I’m alone in my room; an angry song stirs my senses on a day that has been filled with friends and laughter. It’s worse when I sing along. It’s as if I experience the artist’s feelings and inspirations by expressing it myself. I suppose that’s every artist’s goal though, and in that sense maybe I have no control over it. But what if I did? What if I could control those feelings? If I could sing those songs without any attachment? I suppose then they wouldn’t sound the same though. I’ve been told that part of the best part of watching me perform is how much I connect with what I’m performing, how into it I get.

 I feel like I’m missing something, and that music is the key to finding it. Like maybe if I listen to the song enough, I’ll find the secret that will a hole that I‘m not sure is there. Do other people feel like this? Like they’re supposed to be doing more or different? Maybe I just need to sing more. It goes away when I sing, and when I dance. Music, and the expression of it, seems to be the key.

2:37am