the archives

The other day I was cleaning out my music room thing when I happened upon an old journal from when I was 14-15, I have kept all my journals from when I first started writing. I started flipping though it, as I do sometimes; they are kind of like old photographs, and tell a story of a lonely, sad girl. I was the sad girl that worked behind the counter at a coffee shop, drank too much espresso so I could stay up all night and write, and draw....every town has one of these girls. My hair would be blow-pop-tongue colors, I would eat lunch alone and write, I did theatre but couldn't hang out with the other kids because they were such extroverts and were very loud...I was not. I would study my lines, human nature, and the cloud cover over the hills of Southern California. I was alone, but I wasn't lonely really. Maybe sometimes I was, I definitely felt an emptiness in me, but I remember being strangely satisfied by the independence. I loved getting in my white Toyota Carolla SR5 with burgandy interior, no ac, and a boom box (no working internal stereo) and blasting the FUCK out of my music and singing at the top of my lungs. I loved it. It's one of my fondest memories. I have always liked being alone, and need alone time, but I also have always suffered from it. It's that selfish part of me, and I don't know if it helps or hurts, but I know that when I don't have it I feel lost, and when I have it too much....I start thinking.....too much.

So, these journals are filled with sad thoughts and sad drawings, but there is a strength in them that I had never, ever noticed before. So I started pulling out every single one of these journals and started flipping through all of them. I started to notice a few things....a) I was strangely eloquent for a girl that hung out by herself a lot and didn't keep many friends b) I really couldn't read most of the poems and thoughts because a lot of it was incredibly repetitive and I got annoyed when I wasn't very eloquent....which was most of the time, but when I had something good, I gave myself more points c) I used to mark the date on everything. Why don't I do that anymore? and d) I liked my drawings the best. They weren't very good, but I'm a visual person and I get drawn in by images first, and then I dig deeper. Why don't I draw very much anymore? The drawing stopped when I moved out of my mom's house at 19. That sucks. I paint sometimes...furniture, and canvas rarely..but that's it. And my skills on canvas, and pencil drawings have gone waaaaaaaaaay downhill. I'm out of practice. I should get back in practice.

These old journals and drawings are far more tolerable than my old demos...though even then I am sometimes impressed. But I don't give myself as many points when there is a good old demo as I would with a good poem or thought from 1996. I don't know why. Probably because I'm more of a perfectionist when it comes to stuff like music than I am with pencil drawings. I should be a perfectionist with all of these things. Yeah, that sounds like a blast.

My bestest friend in the world recently sent me this CD of this local San Francisco musician, his name is Sean Hayes. The album she got me is 'Big Black Hole and the Little Baby Star'. I have listened to it at least 8 times in the past two days. I love it like my life depends on it. Thank you, my dear friend.

New music is my favorite, especially when it's a gift from someone you love, and especially when it knocks your socks off unexpectedly.