It feels good to listen to music that you love. Working all week with chill lo-fi in the background helps keep you in that regular work bubble without associating anything else with it. The last thing you want is your favourite music running while working. It’s interesting how certain types of music connect our thoughts and feelings to our actions, surroundings and people.
There was a time when I couldn’t listen to Jimmy Eat World for a long time because their music linked me to someone from the past. You should not share your favourite music with anyone.
When I go to see Nine Inch Nails by myself, I won’t care about the crowd. All I’ll see are individuals who connect to the music differently. You can’t ever know each person’s experience, nor will you ever know them.
Keep your favourite music to yourself, as people can use it against you, like making you hate it and associate it with something terrible. Look at Alex and how he, after the treatment, can no longer enjoy Beethoven’s 9th symphony.
For some reason, Noel Gallagher’s powerful guitar chord progressions make me not want to be in this world anymore. He amplifies my perception of how things are—how the good moments only ring true for a mere three-and-a-half minutes. On the other hand, the lyrics try to give me some direction, but I don’t understand the compass, nor do I have the motivation to learn anymore.
How often do you reflect on life and death? I don’t ponder hard enough over the literal meanings of either one. Sometimes, it feels like I was still growing up yesterday in the 90s. Next, I wake up living the consequence of poorly made decisions. What’s the point of wisdom if it comes too late?
When do you get to use the “lesson learned” strategy if every fucking experience is different? So is every person you meet in life. Late-bloomers are merely stupid and deluded for following a naive heart for too long.
Reality is only cruel when you live in fear, and there are many reasons to be afraid as you live and age. Seeking refuge in music and books can only provide so much safety and serotonin.
I was convinced I was too dumb for physics when I was in fifth or sixth grade. However, my teacher, Herr Lehm, refused to believe that girls couldn’t do physics. I was only interested in physics when he took my class to some physics exhibition. Everyone had to pick a specific topic to write an essay about.
Herr Lehm saw me stare at the Chladni plate, which I didn’t understand. It was a metal plate with sand in the centre. Something had drawn me to it.
He asked if I wanted to visualize sound, and the next thing he did was draw a violin bow across the edge of the metal plate. The different sound frequencies caused the sand to form patterns that reminded me of a spirograph drawing. But it was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Herr Lehm explained that the sand would gather at the nodal lines—areas without vibration. He told me about the nature of sound waves and how they can travel through water and air. You can measure the wavelength of light, too. But the Chladni plate is a means that enables you to visualize sound travel.
However, I don’t need to see sound; I need to feel it in my chest, the only place for it to create an emotion that makes sense. All sounds are vibrations. But you only want to invest in sounds that make a difference, like Tom Waits’s voice when he tells a story in his songs.
I didn’t deserve the B- for my essay. The Chladni plate didn’t explain bristling emotions to me.
I found it out myself.
The sand settles in dead spots.
It’s the dead spots that create the beautiful patterns.
