(no subject)
While my dad was in the ICU, I fell into an emotional state so unique (among my previous emotional states) that it wants blogging.
The best word that I can think of to describe it is delicate. Perhaps also crispy, on-edge, superficial, preserved.
I think it was most examplarily manifested in my music habbits. I listened to music almost constantly over my dad's two week hospital stay. Those two weeks were when I began going to sleep to music. It was my escapism. Instead of tucking into bed in my empty, dark house and letting my mind wander until it shut off, I put on big black headphones and filled every cavity in my brain with music so that nothing else could move around and I wouldn't think. It makes emotional sense although I have no idea why I was afraid of thinking. I don't think I was afraid of crying, because I did enough of that. I might have been somehow subconciously afraid that the wrong thought could snuff out my dad. I might have just been dodging nightmares. The flip side of my music obsession was an extreme sensitivity to the content, mostly to the lyrics although sometimes just a feeling would be too much, of the music. Songs about car accidents made me feel like I was about to break and I skipped past them. The Shins had too much emotional connection for me to listen to them at all. I can't directly connect that feeling to anything. So it's also sort of weird that I spent an unreasonable amount of time listening to the They Might Be Giants album Mink Car, as the chorus of the title song goes I got hit by a mink car / hit by a mink car / driven by a guitar.
My sensitivity to song content has since diminished, but I still rely on my CD player to put me to sleep almost anywhere that is not my bed. Am I afraid of my own thoughts everywhere but my home? Is my need for music still related to my dad? I have no idea.
I am absolutely positive this emotional state isn't unique to me.
And: My right thumb is sticky. I don't know why.
The best word that I can think of to describe it is delicate. Perhaps also crispy, on-edge, superficial, preserved.
I think it was most examplarily manifested in my music habbits. I listened to music almost constantly over my dad's two week hospital stay. Those two weeks were when I began going to sleep to music. It was my escapism. Instead of tucking into bed in my empty, dark house and letting my mind wander until it shut off, I put on big black headphones and filled every cavity in my brain with music so that nothing else could move around and I wouldn't think. It makes emotional sense although I have no idea why I was afraid of thinking. I don't think I was afraid of crying, because I did enough of that. I might have been somehow subconciously afraid that the wrong thought could snuff out my dad. I might have just been dodging nightmares. The flip side of my music obsession was an extreme sensitivity to the content, mostly to the lyrics although sometimes just a feeling would be too much, of the music. Songs about car accidents made me feel like I was about to break and I skipped past them. The Shins had too much emotional connection for me to listen to them at all. I can't directly connect that feeling to anything. So it's also sort of weird that I spent an unreasonable amount of time listening to the They Might Be Giants album Mink Car, as the chorus of the title song goes I got hit by a mink car / hit by a mink car / driven by a guitar.
My sensitivity to song content has since diminished, but I still rely on my CD player to put me to sleep almost anywhere that is not my bed. Am I afraid of my own thoughts everywhere but my home? Is my need for music still related to my dad? I have no idea.
I am absolutely positive this emotional state isn't unique to me.
And: My right thumb is sticky. I don't know why.