"Because the man wasn't good he was great
He'd say "Music was the home for your pain"
And explained I was young, he would say
Take that rage, put it on a page
Take that page to the stage
Blow the roof off the place"
-If You Could See Me Now, the Script
I love these lyrics. So, so much. I know they're referring to music and song-writing, but it's the same theory. Honestly, when I get really emotional- either mad or sad (usually mad) or overwhelmed or whatever, my mind goes into overdrive.
I mean, seriously. I'll sit there silently, but inside my head is spinning.
Like yesterday I got mad (long story) and this was my mind:
NonononSkyemoIcan'tAbby'sgonnakillmeAddihelloAmaianeedstotalktoyoufezzesarecoolpleasetellmehe'skiddingweeplittlelionmanskateboardRelientKRhysgrabsmyarmshisfaceterrifiedtherugisprettywhat'sgoingonnopleasenoprisonI'montopoftheworldIloveImagineDragonsAlixIlikeAlixbetterit'smoreoriginalandholycowfocusyouhavetotalknoshutupvoicesLandonandKestondialogueIneedtowritethenextpartPandoraC.S.LewisLexioohAbby'sgonnakillmecrapSherlockmindpalaceangerfearHungerGamessongsnopleasetellmeI'mhearingthiswrongI'mafreakingidiotgoshwhydidImessupthisbadIneedtoblogbecauseoftheserialstorystupidbiologyohmygoshohmygoshIhateyouAddiIhateRomeoandJuliet
I'm not exaggerating, I promise you. To be honest, there was a lot more language issues, too. >_>
So that song, that line, became my motto.
"Take that rage, put it on a page."
I held on to each detail I possibly could, and hunted down paper and a pen and wrote everything down, sorting them into categories. The rant of what made me mad (myself, in case you're wondering) was a page, front and back, and then I used like three more pages for all the other random things going on in my mind. Sometimes I wonder how I keep it all there, like on normal days.
I can quote movies, books, and TV shows better than I can talk normally, I have a song playing in my head almost 24/7, at least three plots needing to be sorted out at a time, not including whatever I'm reading at the time, dialogue, character ideas, my best friends' drama, their crazy antics, and yet somehow I can usually still be normal. Well, that's a relative term. :P I'm not really "normal". But yeah, whole different conversation.
The writing helps.
First of all, it sorts things. Organizes and filters and lets things out. And it calms me down. I'm getting all those crappy, haunting, angry thoughts out of me and onto a page, where I can seriously analyze things. Plus, a paper can't hurt someone (well, unless you get a paper cut. But that's irrelevant). I can always destroy the words if I need to, or lock them away.
It's a LOT safer than saying something I'll regret later.
Maybe it's cowardly.
But I prefer cautious.
I'm rambling. :P That happens a LOT.
Sorry.
If you're reading this either you have no life or you're just really, absurdly interested in what I have to say. So you have no life.
I probably shouldn't insult those who actually are reading what I write.
I probably should go to bed.
It's almost ten and I'm exhausted, and tomorrow's my least favorite day of the week (although I get a lot of food I think, so it shouldn't be too bad, hehe ;).
Bleh....I don't want to sleep.
In that case I should do something productive, because I have a new story idea that needs an outline, a bunch of stories that need new parts to them, a letter that needs to be written...
Instead I'm here listening to music and rambling.
I thought I decided this blog was just for writing and books and the like.
Oops.
Well, that's how it started.
Okay, I shall take my leave.
Fare thee well.
:)
He'd say "Music was the home for your pain"
And explained I was young, he would say
Take that rage, put it on a page
Take that page to the stage
Blow the roof off the place"
-If You Could See Me Now, the Script
I love these lyrics. So, so much. I know they're referring to music and song-writing, but it's the same theory. Honestly, when I get really emotional- either mad or sad (usually mad) or overwhelmed or whatever, my mind goes into overdrive.
I mean, seriously. I'll sit there silently, but inside my head is spinning.
Like yesterday I got mad (long story) and this was my mind:
NonononSkyemoIcan'tAbby'sgonnakillmeAddihelloAmaianeedstotalktoyoufezzesarecoolpleasetellmehe'skiddingweeplittlelionmanskateboardRelientKRhysgrabsmyarmshisfaceterrifiedtherugisprettywhat'sgoingonnopleasenoprisonI'montopoftheworldIloveImagineDragonsAlixIlikeAlixbetterit'smoreoriginalandholycowfocusyouhavetotalknoshutupvoicesLandonandKestondialogueIneedtowritethenextpartPandoraC.S.LewisLexioohAbby'sgonnakillmecrapSherlockmindpalaceangerfearHungerGamessongsnopleasetellmeI'mhearingthiswrongI'mafreakingidiotgoshwhydidImessupthisbadIneedtoblogbecauseoftheserialstorystupidbiologyohmygoshohmygoshIhateyouAddiIhateRomeoandJuliet
I'm not exaggerating, I promise you. To be honest, there was a lot more language issues, too. >_>
So that song, that line, became my motto.
"Take that rage, put it on a page."
I held on to each detail I possibly could, and hunted down paper and a pen and wrote everything down, sorting them into categories. The rant of what made me mad (myself, in case you're wondering) was a page, front and back, and then I used like three more pages for all the other random things going on in my mind. Sometimes I wonder how I keep it all there, like on normal days.
I can quote movies, books, and TV shows better than I can talk normally, I have a song playing in my head almost 24/7, at least three plots needing to be sorted out at a time, not including whatever I'm reading at the time, dialogue, character ideas, my best friends' drama, their crazy antics, and yet somehow I can usually still be normal. Well, that's a relative term. :P I'm not really "normal". But yeah, whole different conversation.
The writing helps.
First of all, it sorts things. Organizes and filters and lets things out. And it calms me down. I'm getting all those crappy, haunting, angry thoughts out of me and onto a page, where I can seriously analyze things. Plus, a paper can't hurt someone (well, unless you get a paper cut. But that's irrelevant). I can always destroy the words if I need to, or lock them away.
It's a LOT safer than saying something I'll regret later.
Maybe it's cowardly.
But I prefer cautious.
I'm rambling. :P That happens a LOT.
Sorry.
If you're reading this either you have no life or you're just really, absurdly interested in what I have to say. So you have no life.
I probably shouldn't insult those who actually are reading what I write.
I probably should go to bed.
It's almost ten and I'm exhausted, and tomorrow's my least favorite day of the week (although I get a lot of food I think, so it shouldn't be too bad, hehe ;).
Bleh....I don't want to sleep.
In that case I should do something productive, because I have a new story idea that needs an outline, a bunch of stories that need new parts to them, a letter that needs to be written...
Instead I'm here listening to music and rambling.
I thought I decided this blog was just for writing and books and the like.
Oops.
Well, that's how it started.
Okay, I shall take my leave.
Fare thee well.
:)
No comments:
Post a Comment