I Am Me

I have no desire to give constant updates and tell all the details about what is going on here. I don't want to be a bug under a microscope and that's all I feel like; as if I'm a window and everybody is trying to get a view of the world through me, but in their own interpretation. So that ends here. I'm not doing that anymore. I refuse to lose every part of me that I have found and fought so hard to have just to make people happy. I know this will sound like I'm chewing people out, but the voice I hear narrating in my head isn't barking or snapping these words. It's just me stating facts as I see them. And the reason I'm not flipping out and going all Loki on everybody is music, which happens to convienently be the reason I'm writing. I want to write about music, not Disney. So I'm doing that.

There are several types of music in this world. There's horrid music that makes ears bleed and deserves never to be listened to or sung again. We all know those songs. There's decent music, the kind that's tolerable on the radios and not really thought about after. Not worth buying on iTunes, but not something to change the station for. Then it's good music, the kind that people buy online, in stores, from friends [but that's stealing]. It's the play on repeat and jam out to it stuff, a favorite genre or just a really good song. Above that is the great music, the kind that makes you want to respond in some form, by singing, dancing, writing, painting, something. It creates this desire, an almost insatiable need, to return the gift given by music.
Then there is music. The ultimate, single factor that is so overwhelming it cannot be helped but listened to. There is no response worthy, nothing that would compare, so nothing else happens except listening. But the listening isn't just listening. It's a souls response, the movement of sound, the manipulation of emotions. It calms. It's everything just as it is nothing.
Soundtracks are one of my biggest weaknesses when it comes to music. I have more soundtracks on my iPod than any other single genre. I think I have around 30 right now. Movies, mostly, but some broadway shows, TV shows, or even music that was meant to accompany a book [Hunger Games, I'm looking at you].  But right now, the soundtrack of Sherlock is my cocaine. It's my go-to music because there is something for every emotion enveloped within the piano chords and string solos. I was so frustrated before work today because I had to go in, I was working super late, and I really just am not a big fan of working Thunder, although it has gotten easier. Sort of. But that's another story. My point here is that on the bus in, I listened to David Arnold and Michael Price take noises that could sound so chaotic and paint such a vivid scene in my mind that I was able to escape and forget everything. It was a sanctuary. On the ride home, people were loud and annoying, yelling across the bus. I turned up the music specifically from S2E3 and lost myself in the heartbreaking moments that happened inside those notes. I walked from the bus stop home, listening, letting my fingers dance in the air. I was safe in my world.
Call me obsessed. Tell me this isn't healthy. Point out that it's not real. I don't care. It's real to me, it keeps me sane, and it's something I don't fully understand and what to learn more about. I love Sherlock, the series, the books, the movies. Everything. The books are fantastically written and there's so much more to Holmes than we will ever know. The movies are so enjoyable and amusing. The series is brilliant and... Moffat...
But it's not Sherlock Holmes right now. It's these pieces with names like "Which Bottle?" and "Woman on the Slab" and "Prepared to Do Anything." It's the hidden, almost silent five second sounds deep in the background. The undertones throbbing in my ears. The drums pounding out the final seconds. This is my safe  place tonight. This is where I, Elle, come home. And it's where I am finally me once more.