Tuned out

Due to my car battery being dead for almost a week, my stereo is now requiring some mysterious code to be input before it will allow access again. This completely ridiculous request (which will require a whole other post), means that I have been sans musique whilst driving for a month now. That's right... no cd player (never mind that a Sigur Ros cd has been jammed in there for a year now, and will not eject), no Sirius Satellite and not even any radio. Aside from the fact that it drives me absolutely insane not to be able to listen to the hockey game (have I ever mentioned I have a huge crush on Peter Maher?), the respite from the usual cacophony that is my car is being strangely appreciated these days.

I am a music fan to put it mildly. Music is so affecting to me that its absence seems like a long overdue holiday from emotion.... of any kind. Music for me is an old friend, a new lover, a cold day, starlight, sunshine, crashing waves, big trees, warm butter, pain, joy, a fuzzy blanket, a sharp blade, homemade cookies, steak and potatoes... you get the idea. It's everything. It can take me back to places I miss, to places I've escaped, dreamed of, never been. It can send me reeling, catapult me into the clouds and then plunge me back down to earth again. It is capable of manipulation, betrayal, and unwavering encouragement. It soothes and angers, cajoles and inspires. It can be your best friend and your worst enemy. It doles out hope and doubt equally, sometime alternating from note to note. Often a particular strain leaves me breathless and struggling to regain some equilibrium, like I've just stumbled off the latest ride at the fair.

A girl needs a break sometimes. A rollercoaster is fun the first time around, but no one wants an infinite ride. Silence is like a clean chalkboard. It provides the smooth dark space for contemplative thought, uninfluenced, to come streaming out in carefully formed letters.

It's good to be turned off occasionally.