Liking Her More and More

November 21, 2012

I was a metal-head and a punk, but my appreciation for music goes far beyond that. I was a musician. I guess I should use that in the present tense–I AM a musician. But I have trouble accepting that, always have.

I’m now faced with declined hearing due to the OI. I’m starting to wear my hearing aide more often (I have two but one needs adjustment), particularly when I sing and want to enjoy undertones in music. Going deaf is one of my biggest fears. I often think that I’ll definitely kill myself if that ever happens.

But lately, I’ve been calmer, more generally content–not happy, just content. I don’t like the word happy. My contentment, however, has reached back out to the warm embrace of music, the one thing that has saved my life before.

I picked up my ukulele a few months ago when I was in the dark and the PLDs had moved in again. And though I haven’t played recently, I still plan to play it and eventually maybe write songs again. Most of my songs start off as poems anyway, so maybe (just maybe) I could adapt some of my NaPoWriMo poems as uke songs.

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Oh right, Lana! So on my Borderline Girl Song Week Thirteen post, I posted a Lana Del Rey Song. Her real name is Lizzy Grant. In that post, I called her pretentious but good. I suppose though, that pretentious is just a label given to any musician that takes their music seriously. So I will back away from that word. I’ve been listening to her more and more. Surprisingly, despite my minuscule stature, I sing better in her register, or rather, women who sing in lower, contralto registers like two of my favorites–Amy Winehouse and Fiona Apple.

I’m liking her more and more. I want to sing again and shout out loud. But I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll fail. Afraid I’ll quit like I have before. I can’t let the fear of my hearing loss take control of my actions though.

Here she is singing live. Oh, yeah, and it turns out she CAN sing very well live. It just depends.

Le Police de Texas

August 11, 2012

Here’s to trying to get involved again. Trying. Just trying. (More like just going along for the ride Mansie gave me so I could get out and see people I once knew.)

Meh. This can be added as an attempt in a part of my “Goals for Therapy,” if you remember.

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I took this photo at the protest I went to, two–or was it three–weeks ago? It was to raise the downtown office janitors’ wages which is terrible in Houston. There were other issues involved in the protest (think 99% and 1% Wall Street), but the main issue here was the janitors, which are mainly Latino immigrants. Many organizations and such were involved. It was my first protest in over a year, and I met a beautiful tattooed Brazilian girl that day.

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There were four cops on horses in every street corner. There were also many arrests. Wish I wouldn’t ‘a shopped off the beautiful horses’ feet though. And who knew cop cars, horses and a couple hundred protesters could make so much ear-bleeding noise! I wanted to chop my bloody ears off, Van Gogh style.


Taken with my crappy Nokia camera phone. (Yeah, I forgot my awesome Nikon that day! Fuckin’ anxiety.)