Posts Tagged ‘nirvana’

I wrote this exactly a year ago today (and just happened to find it in my emails), but I wrote it for someone else to read in attempt to get them out of their own personal storm. Now, I’m finding a year later that I should re-read these words and apply them to my own life. Listen to my own philosophy. I based my writing off the last line of my thought process “The sun is gone but I have light,” which are the lyrics to Nirvana’s song “Dumb.”

This is what I wrote on Nov. 15th, 2011:

Human beings can find beauty in both periods of darkness and lightness. For without periods of darkness, the light would not be as welcoming. In a world full of pure light, we would surely be blinded from the truth. You might have heard “Let’s bring light upon this ‘ which refers to truth. ‘So how can light mask the truth’, you ask?   You, yourself, might say ‘I turn on the lights to find things I’ve lost– not turn them off’. We often think of darkness as the evil, a blanket over all verity. As children, we are scared of it and as adults we are unsure. But there is nothing dubious about the dark. It is what it is. Thrown into darkness without our consent creates panic and chaos within us. After the onset,  we learn to use our other senses–touch, sound, smell, taste; amidst it, we learn secrets, we remember, we forget, we remember again, we ask ‘why?’ ‘why not?’, we sort things in our minds until they’re stacked in neat little packages tied with brown string so we wont misplace them… until our eyes adjust, but at that moment we learn that we no longer need them. We have walked through the darkness just fine without them. Not only that, but we have become ourselves again.  We have gotten past the idiom: “Your eyes are playing tricks on you” because we have learned out of darkness grows our own inner light, and we are smarter than our eyes. When it comes time for the light to mix into the dark just enough to see what is around us, we must not lose that time we felt darkness for in that time we learned that darkness will not disable us. We must recognize when there is too much light. That is what’s blinding. Just look into the sun.

The sun is gone but I have light.

Live from NYC

Posted: January 25, 2012 in getting personal, Music, NYC
Tags: , , , ,

Music’s tie to memories is something that intrigues me. I was dating this guy once upon a time and the music we enjoyed together was never the same alone. I’m totally over this guy, but the song “Darlin'” by The Beatles still reminds me of him and the woods in North Carolina. “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman undoubtedly brings me back to a childhood memory of being in the passenger’s seat of my mom’s car while “Jumpin’ Jumpin'” by Destiny’s Child reminds me of my sweet 16th birthday, in which my friends and I performed a dance in my living room.. 

There’s no stopping music being tied to memories. I’ve gone a year without listening to whole albums because they were attached to memories I was trying to forget. The memories are still there and so is the music. Actually, there have been studies with Alzheimer’s patients or people with brain damage and memory loss who become transported in time through music. In an otherwise confusing world, through music these people become lucid within that memory. (The movie ‘The Music Never Stopped’ is a nice portrayal of this phenomenon. Warning: It’s a tear-jerker.)

I thought my last post while living in NYC discussing my own music and NYC memories would be fitting.

Empire State of Mind- Jay Z

Boy, was I lucky! I just moved to NYC and the biggest song on the radio was all about it. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made. There’s nothing you can’t do.” This song captured my exact mentality at the time. I was living in Harlem tutoring and mentoring underprivileged youth. It was their song. It was my song. I heard it pretty much every day–in the bodega, from a car blasting it through rolled down windows on 125th. It was inspiring and hopeful. Listening to it now takes me back to that sweaty summer in Harlem, to those kids I became close to, and to the idea that it’s all going to be okay.

Sir Luscious Leftfoot: The Son of Chico Dusty- Big Boi

My second summer in NYC, I had this album on repeat. I was proud to have discovered this release myself and to have shown it to a couple important/close people to me who ended up loving it. It’s really a great album. It’s rare that I find several songs on one album that I enjoy. It reminds me of being confident. I finally felt at ease in NYC–like I was a New Yorker. I was giving people directions, meeting new people, starting new jobs, and I felt on top of the world. On the contrary, this album reminds me of 2 people whom I don’t really speak to anymore. In that respect, the album has become tainted. 



Yeah, I know…a little late on this, but I only just started listening to Nirvana in NYC. I developed a minor crush on Kurt Cobain while in this city. Luckily, for me, that crush wont lead to anything dramatic like my obsession with Johnny Depp and the resulting Johnny Depp scrap book crafted by yours truly. RIP. Anyway, Kurt and Nirvana never fail to get me through my aggravated episodes where I’d like to jump on my bed like an angsty teen if my bed wasn’t abut to break just by sitting on it. (i.e bad day at work, upset with how my life is going, guy problems, friend problems, etc.)Image