I'm innocently completing a task, be it laundry, possibly the dishes, or even finishing off a particularly important livejournal entry, when it happens. ITunes, which is, on most ocassions, my friend, turns foe, and immediately starts to kill me.
They're all in on it together too. It's not as if one artist in my repertoire of music has a grudge against me. It's not like Kanye is angry that I dare keep him in the same library as Ben Folds, or vice versa.
This effort is collaborative.
Matt Nathanson, Joni Mitchell, Paul McCartney, The Jonas Brothers, Dashboard Confessional, Alltime Low, Kelly Clarkson, Rosi Golan, Meg & Dia, Ingrid Michaelson, and various broadway musicals not limited to but ESPECIALLY " The last five years"
Come together in a group effort to slay my heart and leave me bleeding out on my keyboard.
Maybe, Its my own fault. I buy music that will inevitably be my downfall. I live with my heart completely on the line. I say things like " I trust you implicitly with my heart " and " Don't apologize " and most precariously " I love you endlessly." I mean it. I don't say things if they're not what I'm feeling, I don't give opinions if they aren't genuine.
I live vulnerably.
And I expect other people to want honesty when they ask me a question.
This ofcourse, leads the universe and the music industry, to give me what I give. To hyperfocus on my feelings via the omniscient "Itunes Shuffle" and cut directly to the still pink center of the metaphorical steak that is my heart on the barbeque of my life.
look at me and my ridiculous metaphors. My Love would be proud. My Composition and literature teacher would not be.
But I digress.
IT HAPPENS EVERYTIME.
Music, which is quite possibly the most important component in my life beyond my best friend and my soul mate,
is my inevitable downfall every time.
A good song can make the dancing flutters of my heart soar. Cleaning my kitchen while Britney spears tells me over and over that the beat does, in fact, go on. The Veronicas can pulse through my veins with their pop sensation-y voices leading me to desire nothing more than a cigarette, or sex, depending on which album I'm listening to.
More often than not,
Shedaisy can leave me singing, on the floor of my shower, Crying my eyes out, for the umpteenth time.
But, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't dare ask the universe to right this. I wouldn't want music I can't relate to. Because, Itunes, is giving me what I need. The honest answer to the questions I'm transferring with my fingertips on the keyboard.
It's getting in my face and honest about the way I feel. It's not censoring itself for my benefit.
I've trained my music library well. It's not afraid to give me the honest answers.
None the less. Sometimes. I have to shut the computer, or make a playlist that doesn't scream "the mistake you're making is beautiful." or "Get your head on straight" Or even " maybe it's because I'm crazy, maybe it's because I just can't honestly tell you what I want." (alright, that one's not my brain, it's Matt Nathanson.
But . As much as I'm constantly stitching myself back together,
I commend you Itunes. For even as I type this blog, You decide to pull out "Pretty Eyes" By Jason Reeves, and remind me of times that formed who I am today, no matter how many times I've cried over the lyrics, You know right now, It's what I need to hear.