measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Freeverse: The sounds of memory As I get older, I find myself becoming more excited about the little pleasures in life, rather than the huge, monumental events. Perhaps because I realize that the little pleasures are more common. I have a better chance of encountering them. They tend to be less expensive, more often spontaneous... and completely random little things that otherwise would get overlooked in the chaos of life. I encountered one of my little pleasures last evening-- a recurring event that is so common, yet at the same time never fails to just bring me to a place that is peaceful and contemplative. In this case, the comfort of driving alone on a night-darkened road with all of the windows open, blasting the radio, and singing along with it. Mind you, I'm not a good singer. This is why I joined the band-- I don't sing. I play an instrument instead. I recognize pitch. I also recognize that I can't hold one that well. I tend to stumble over the words, even if I know songs by heart. But when I'm alone in the car, it really doesn't matter... it's an intimate experience with music... being lost in the sound, in the atmosphere that it creates... I have a few memories where I was just driving down a dark road, listening or singing along with the music-- and everything just seemed perfect. You know those times where a particular song just happens to be playing, and it fits the mood perfectly? The three songs in particular I remember-- Silent Lucidity by Queensryche. Why should I cry for you? by Sting New York State of Mind by Billy Joel. The last happening to come on the radio as I was literally crossing the GW. I mean... really. It's kinda like driving with my mom as a child around my grandma's, and having Allentown by Billy Joel come on. When you're in the town... *shrug* Last night happened to be John Mellancamp night-- one of the local stations has a fabulous rendition of Jack and Diane that's toned down-- much more folksy, emphasizing a violin and hand-drums more than the guitar. It's driving music. And on a warm late spring night, it was the perfect thing. Just driving casually down the streets of Braintree, watching the road but also taking occasional glances at the old houses that line the roads... it just seemed... well, you get the idea. Mellancamp's songs have always attempted to encase that little bit of Americana found in small town neighborhoods. *shrug* I suppose my love of music just instinctively creates these perfect scenes. My brain does try to form the Oscar-winning dramatic scenes at times-- life imitates movies imitates life, after all. But I always seem to find myself trying to capture those little moments, some good, some bad... ....sitting with a friend on the bank of the Charles river, crying about another friend's situation... seeing Fizzy for the first time, curled in a tiny kitten ball in Harvard Square station... listening to an old man and his granddaughter on the T as he explains to her why the Green Line trains have to stop so frequently in the tunnel... observing some of the entirely-too-rich-for-their-own-good crowd on Newbury Street... perching on my dorm room windowsill on Bay State over the summer, watching fellow students try to escape the rain... standing on the inner edge of the trolleys of Union Street in San Francisco to play chicken with the oncoming trolley car... my first (and only) fistfight in the junior high gym locker room... Breathing in the fresh air on top of Red Lodge Mountain as I get off the chair lift and look out over the snowy landscape of Montana and Wyoming... seeing how far Koosh balls and M&M's would fly off a bass drum with a strong thump.. Walking along the boardwalk in Santa Cruz... a screaming match with Darren a week before senior prom in high school... walking naked in a windy wheat field... my first sighting of Erich in front of the Hancock tower... I have a million of them-- all little scenes that perhaps last only a minute at most. But they're all in there, captured. It reminds me after I've been bitching that I've never done things... that yeah, I have. I've lived, I've experienced life, and I've both celebrated and condemned it. And as much as I bitch at times, I probably shouldn't be-- because I've been so much more fortunate than most. And with that, I lose my train of thought.... 10:23 a.m. - 21 May 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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