Still Mesmorized by Frank T.

An American Elegy

This song has to be one of my favorite wind symphony pieces, to play and listen to.  I remember when I first played this song in high school.  It was with our A Band - Wind Symphony, and I can recall every moment of this song etching its way into my heart.  I memorized my part of course, the first part clarinet portion, but I also became entranced with the other instrument parts.  There is just something about a Frank Ticheli piece, that just pulls you in.  I feel this way with Frank, and Eric Whitacre.  But in this post, I'll stick to Frank.  This song, along with Blue Shades, Simple Gifts, Vesuvius, Shenandoah, Cajun Folk Songs, and Sun Dance, are some of my favorites.  But An American Elegy has to be my number one song from him.  I can place this song in its entirety, on repeat and never get sick of it.  To listen to this masterful piece, by an extremely talented band (you must), you will fall in love.  If you take anything from this post, take a listen to Frank's music, and with the link included, it will be by the Wind Symphony band of Michigan State University.  I said you'd need to hear his music from an extremely talented band, and that's what you'll get with them.  There is just something about the composition of a great song, topped off with dedicated musicians.  Feel free to become infatuated with these songs.  And don't feel bad about it.  I'm right there with you, repeat and all.

Loss of feeling

Trust your instincts, they say.  Fight harder, they say.  Pray and let go, they say . . .

As I sat, eagle focused on the screen, I watched The Hunting Ground documentary, silently and alone.  I watched because I needed to.  I listened to the survivors and wondered why I hadn't been that brave.  Why I couldn't speak up as much as others.  And I remembered that I had tried one year.  "Take Back The Night" on my undergraduate campus . . . one year I had tried.  I decided to volunteer and pass out flyers and pamphlets for the event.  I did well, up until the actual date.  I just couldn't show up for the date.  Something inside me felt like a fraud.  Like I was somehow telling people to be brave and fight the urge to be silenced, and yet I was doing that very thing.  I was indeed silent.

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I need to breathe.  Or not to.  Sometimes I can't decide.  It's though my mind doesn't understand.

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Take a deep breath, and open your eyes.  I know it's hard to trust guys.  In time you'll be open enough to love.  Or be loved.  They tell you it gets better with time.  And yet you're still searching for that moment where your life falls into place.  You take a breath, and forget to exhale.  Maybe for a second -- you can feel normal.  Do you even know what that feels like?  Take a deep breath and keep your eyes closed.  Either way your dreams merge into a shattered reality.  The reality is there are feelings that you never have been able to shake.  From a young child up until now . . . Moments that have been etched so deep into your body, though you try to scrape them out, you just can't.  And you try.  Marks become just another part of the journey.  Children pound their fists and heads into the wall, in an attempt to forget.  The dizziness overshadows the day-nightmares.  And the older you get, the punishment gets angrier.  Like the slashes used to feel -- you dig until you're numb enough to close your eyes.

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I isolate myself when it gets to be too much.  Nothing is worse than having those you love, hurt.  But what happens when you hate the person staring back at you?  What do you do when you've been hating yourself since you were a young child?  How do you fight the urge to disappear, when you've never felt visible?

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It's hard to admit hurt, but easy to inflict it upon yourself. And there are moments where handling reality becomes too much, and breathing doesn't feel like an option.  Letting go makes more sense -- especially when you feel lost.  And those times frequent more than you'd like.  

I forgot to function the other day/ While laughing at myself, I reflected back to you/
That stare/ Those eyes/ That face/ Ingrained so deep shutting eyelids scratched you further into my mind/

Day 1 of Tunnel

Today was day one of Tunnel's 2013 show, and I must say, it was a good show.  I'll elaborate soon - breaking down each scene.

Reminders

*Spoiler Alert - The picture below may not be suitable for everyone*

So many things can make you dredge up the past:  faces, a smell, a picture, a sound . . . a thought.  And when you come face-to-face with that emotion, it can often be too difficult to erase.  Been there, done that.  Reminders are more than just an alert from a calender -- telling you it's the anniversary of something you'd rather forget.  Maybe the reminder is to try and forget -- putting your energy into something else more time consuming.  Whatever it is, reminders can also be a trigger.  

I must say, placing this picture (taken a while back) in my blog was beyond one of the most impacting, yet extremely terrifying moments I've had to overcome.  Just as the following poem that leads after (will be posted soon). 

I'm such an enclosed person, that I never discuss my own emotions -- never wanting to be bothersome.  Most of my friends come to me to vent, but I never let it go the other way.  I'm there -- a bouncing board of ideas as to what to do -- how to stay calm -- how to breathe -- how to be positive.  Why hasn't that worked for me?  Why, now, must I write about the past?  Well, because it just seems to continue bringing its way back into my present being.  And I'm secretly hoping it never makes it to my future.  

Yes, I've tried to kick the habit of being my own psychiatrist -- prescribing my own remedies for unwanted thoughts -- Still trying.  Yes, I've gone days, weeks, months even, without resorting to those habits.  But just as one small whiff of odor can set one into a tail spin, so can one unblocked and blurry image.  

Moment by moment -- that's what happens.  I don't see myself as a person venting.  However, now, I see myself as a person FINALLY being able to speak.  And I hope that in time, I can speak about other moments.

"No more maybe's"

I watched her.  

I watched from inside.  

Peered from above.  

And listened intently, because I knew something would protrude its way from under her staccato'd breathing. 
But it didn't.  

Maybe she never saw me.  

Maybe the daze caught her for too long.  

Took away her capabilities, just like it took mine.  

I watched her.  

She never moved.  

Never.  

Not once.  

And I listened.  

She said nothing.  

I wondered when her actions would take place, but they didn't.  

When those sharp pains subsided, she looked up, at me.  

Still, nothing.  

So, I watched, again.  

Those once sharp pains, didn't seem like anything anymore.  

The jabs were like clock work, and were persistent.  

I wondered if she felt anything anymore.  

Maybe she had disappeared . . . 

I wanted her to disappear -- from the outside, just as she did on the inside.  

Maybe then my hovering would fall into one.  

And she'd move.  

Watch me.  

Feel something.  

Or maybe she knew how to control it.  

That moment.  

Those minutes, which went on for too long.  

Or just maybe, as her daze sunk in deeper, she fell further.  

And maybe she wondered too --  why my eyes were open and yet I never saw it happening.  

Because if I did, why didn't I catch her?

~Kyra C.