can people be so engrossed in the "bigger things" that they no longer see those small details? would very many people sit softly on the grass, a wilting petal in their palm, wondering over the tiny, hair-fine lines running like stream beds over its silky surface? but that's too random and dreamy, isn't it? i think, for most people, there's always a time when they find themselves too busy to do something simple like that...or even think about doing that. is it a good thing, i wonder, that we clutter up our lives with an excess of trappings, that we continuously move about, never letting our minds truly rest? what do your dreams consist of, i wonder? what images does your mind play in the dark silence of night? does your imagination soar over impossibly beautiful and colorful dreams? or are you lost in a world filled with the day-to-day jumble of moments?
can you describe, with a word, something you saw, some pretty thing you observed? for me, it's hard. for all my use of words, for all my time spent writing down scores of stories and poems, when i see something, i can't describe it. feelings, i think, can't be limited to a few words, they're all-encompasing, filling the heart and spreading from there, until the slowly fade, like ripples on a pond. but can you describe them? can you flip through a dictionary and pinpoint the world which describes how you felt, what you saw? i don't know if i'm capable. sometimes, i wish i was a painter. or that i could write music.two things without words that limit. odd that i feel this way and the thing i do with the most proficiency involves nothing but words. if you had the choice, right now, to be either a writer, a painter, or a composer, which would you choose?
ah, but i musn't look down on writing. with simple rhythms, and words, you can invoke anything. you can spread chills or warmth, elicit laughter or tears. well, i should stop questioning things, shouldn't i? it could get a bit gnarled down the road if i continue. still, if only we could diresctly demonstrate to people our own feelings, instead of using mediums...this world, i think, might be quite a bit different.
okay, i've written enough odd and unusual things...i shall say goodbye now...sayonara!
2 comments:
I think I would most definitely be a composer if I had to choose. Music is the universal language. The beauty of a book written in English is overlooked by those who can't understand English, whereas music's message can be understood by anyone. It is love, hate, fear, joy, triumph, despair, inspiration, enlightenment, sadness, anything. It is total emotion. Any mood can be represented by music, and I believe it "speaks" louder and more clearly than words.
The End.
COMPOSER! With all of musics...*moves hand in wavelike fashion*...and... *dances around in a little rhythm*... It's definitely one of those things you can only allude to it's higher meaning and deeper nuances when you use words. I love writing too, though, so it's really a tie (hmmm... right spelling?). Anyway, with writing you have to choose words as if they were magical. On their own, words have many levels of meaning at once, but when you combine them it's like sounding it's meaning on a particular octave that creates cords and transitions with the other words. Writing is taking words with many finite definitions and making them have infinite meaning.
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