Just like a story…

I’m skipping the apologetic bull (moo?); you should be used to this sporadic posting by now. If not, you don’t read my blog enough.

If you were able to summon some immense and supremely powerful ability to transport yourself to my location, you would find me spread out on my tiny couch (second home to Erika Kay) fighting off a food coma. All of the food I have eaten today has been glorious and majestic, but by uncle Jonathan’s corn cob pipe does my body hate me. I almost feel like one of those people who sits on her couch so long her skin fuses to the fabric and she needs to be surgically removed. Graphic thoughts aside…

Since that is my current physical and mental state, I’m going to delve into a more tepid post than one of my usual complaints or rants. I may have just lied. I’m sure I will carp about something, but still carping aimed at my overall intended and more calm focus.

I want to know what the percentage is of people who actually take the time to listen to and comprehend lyrics. I’m not talking about Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers, but lyrics that hold much more than words put together to make a tune sound “good” (Hannah Montana and the word ‘good’ may or may not belong in the same sentence). Those words are there for a reason. Whoever wrote them wanted to express something. Words that told a story and were put to music were the writer’s  modus operandi. So do we owe it to the artist to truly listen?

I say we do.

It is easy to like a song because it’s popular and has a good beat. Anyone can do that. The hard part is appreciating it for what it is really saying. Take it as a challenge. Play a song you like and instead of just mindlessly singing along, listen to the story you’re being told. You may not understand any of it, and that’s okay, but at least an attempt was made. Who knows, you may even be able to gain something from the words. A connection towards a mutual feeling you didn’t know was there. A release of sorts if that is what you need. If this experiment fails, at least you can say you tried. I won’t tell you how to listen to your music, but if you’ve never tried, it can’t hurt

This post is hard to write exactly in the way I want to. I actually hate the way it came out, but I don’t feel like changing it now. This is easier to think of the way I want to than to actually express it. The music blasting in the room next to me doesn’t help either. I can’t focus. I’m done.

Yeah, I’m going to have to fix this…