blogging

expression is a love-hate thing for me.  I take a little pride in every word I write, canvas I paint, song I sing and story I tell, but sometimes I'm embarrassed by them too.  who am I to think that people in the world actually give a rat's ass about what I have to say?  In this world of over-sharing and information overload, is my silly little online journal and squawk box blog really necessary? 

sharing my thoughts out loud is really hard for me.. the stronger I feel about something, the harder it is for me to actually verbalize, which is why I end up doing alot of things I'd rather not, and why when I love somebody I sometimes lose them, because they never know.  And why when I'm really upset, nobody knows until weeks later.

When I feel any emotion deeply- love, anger, embarrassment, happiness, excitement, I literally and physically cannot talk, I get bright red splotches across my chest and arms, and one deep red spot on my right cheek.  Those who know me well (I can count them on one hand) can see this reaction and then usually proceed to beat the words out of me, but those that don't know me this well usually don't ever hear what it is I wish I could say, good or bad.

last summer, I saw a man I adore perform in front of more than 10,000 people.

at one point, he started dramatically strumming the same note, over and over again.

after a few minutes of hearing this same chord, everybody in the crowd starting looking around at each other.

is he doing this on purpose? what is going on?

I started worrying that Neil Young was having a freaking stroke right in front of us.

I would not accept being present for this man's death, so I started looking around for an exit.

still, the same chord kept playing. he would pause for a minute and then again, same chord. 

eventually he dropped to his knees and just kept playing.  and he was so immersed in it. 

 you could just tell that his music was his way of being himself.  he really felt it. and meant it.

I looked really closely at this old man, looking like a crazy person, being judged and scrutinized and even sneered at in front of more than 10,000 people.  and he didn't even notice.  I could have cried.

seeing this broke my heart and saved my life at the same time.

since when is feeling a problem? since when is it shameful to encounter emotion? and since when is it conceited or humiliating to share your experience with whoever is around to listen?  even if I was the only one in the crowd who gained something from him breaking down and just being, it was worth it.

Neil Young wasn't forcing anybody to stand there and listen to him, so if the people didn't want to hear it, they could just walk away for all he cared.

and if my writing makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to return to whatever it was you were doing before.  no hard feelings, there is always going to be somebody to criticize.  It's okay if you think I'm emotional or conceited or dramatic.  This is me, verbalizing, organizing and freeing my thoughts and mind. Learning how to talk.  Deal with it.

love ya :)

It's been said that art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.