There are times in my life when I feel so overwhelmed with whatever happens to overwhelm me at the moment, that I frantically start searching for ways to express my frustration Healthy ways. Mostly.
I have yet to come across a piece of literature, with which I have found immediate connection; that upon reading it I felt that awesome revelation that "yeah, finally, I have found someone who gets it, who feels exactly like I do only with significantly superior writing skills!" Maybe I did as a teen and forgot, but I think experience that groundbreaking would be something to remember. Music, on the other hand, is totally different. I find that it speaks directly to the soul, especially the hurting soul.
Normally, my tastes in music are pretty old fashioned: classic rock and classical music. Wailing damsels in distress are not my cup of tea (Yes, I am speaking to you, Norah Jones. (And a side note within a side note - I am totally taking the page out of the Bloggess' book and attempting a blog war with a celebrity. Yes, Norah Jones, I am still talking to you. And I am also breaking all the rules by putting parenthesis within parenthesis, for which I will get an eternity of grammar lessons with a Jesuit professor in my afterlife. Wolverines!!!)
BACK FROM THE SIDE NOTE: Neither am I fond of screaming till they are hoarse male performers. Yet in the times of my own distress I found myself drawn to Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse, Meatloaf and some other, rather uncharacteristic musical choices for me. Listening to THE SONG that for some inexplicable reason speaks to me NOW, I feel as if I am becoming one with the song, and somehow this feeling makes things better, if only for a few hours.
Today was one of those days - not terrible, but frustrating - when I found myself frantically searching YouTube for the perfect expression of my mood. (I am sure that this disorder will soon by identified by AMA, and I humbly request that it is named after me.) I failed to found one. My beloved Queen's "I want to break free" and "Going Slightly Mad" seemed to lack frustration. Meatloaf was not loud enough. P.O.D. just too full of life. "Comfortably Numb" made me want to get drunk, and so full of promise "Dazed and Confused" still didn't do the trick. Have I reached the time of my life when rock just doesn't do it?
On the bright side, I haven't listen to so much music in a long, long time. And discovered in the process that I am not so desperate that I would give Norah Jones a try.