Posts Tagged ‘music’

be like despereaux


Watched the movie “The Tale of Despereaux” last night. While I didn’t so much like the movie, I fell in love with the big-eared mouse that didn’t sport the name Mickey.

the premise

despereauxDespereaux goes to school to learn to be a mouse. This means that he learns to be afraid, to cower and to run away from things that could hurt him. His teachers show him how scary things are and, when he doesn’t cower in fear, tells him he’s not learning.

Despereaux, unlike all of his fellow mice, is not afraid.

the awesomeness

How amazing it was as a child when we weren’t afraid of anything (or at least, not afraid of much).

We had no sense of time, no idea what “the real world” was (many times I still think I have no idea what the real world is), no idea what heartbreak felt like, no clue as to the incarnations of treachery, politics or Osama bin Laden.

As children, we ask endless amounts of questions and receive answers from those with experience, from those who have seen and felt things we never thought possible outside of our wild imagination. As a result – both directly and indirectly – we conjure these concepts and ideas as we age. As the world gets more complex and the responsibilities bear down upon us like the world upon Atlas’ shoulders, we become less than what we were supposed to be. We become adults.

stay child-like

My favorite quality of Despereaux is the child-like awe in which he holds the world (see my post on staying child-like).

Simple things like sunlight he marveled at. Stories of unadulterated bravery and heroism he drank in. Beauty unrestrained he loved without lust. We’re not born to be politicians, or to be bitter, or to be disillusioned with such a messed up world. We learn it; hence, we make the world a messed up place. An endless cycle.

Despereaux just hangs onto that child-like sense of wonder without even realizing his good fortune in that mere fact alone. So much that I found myself a bit jealous.

cynical realism for the common man”

I’m a cynic. Not born one. Not even raised one. But become one.

There are times where I say being a cynic is fun. And believe me, it really has its moments. Especially in the face of insanity, the State of the Union and inane dinner table conversation. I can make fun of things that have merely a perceived impact on dramatists and people who act in real life.

However, I’ve found over time that being a cynic, while fun, is not a proper – or feasible – path to contentment. It’s an excuse. An excuse to take no action in the face of tough decisions. An excuse to criticize others for their actions as we sit in our own tepid pool of inaction.

Simply put: Cynics don’t make the world a better place. Indirectly, the residual effects of our actions can, but it’s only by accident. Only by happenstance (e.g. you piss off a writer with your witty criticisms and she writes her magnum opus in a fit of anger and despair).

closing simple thought

We all need to be a little more like Despereaux. We all need to lose a little bit of our fear, regain a little bit of our child-like state, and just dance with no music on.

And so I ask: “Are you a man, or are you a mouse?”


i wanna go crazy with you


A friend told me this past summer that everybody is always looking for love. I thought it to be an interesting perspective, if a little bit simplistic. But then, most times the simplest way is the most sensible way.

Lately I’ve been listening to Tim McGraw’s new single “Felt Good on My Lips,” and it brings to mind again this concept of everybody always looking for love.

I want your thoughts on this, but allow me to offer my perspective first (I mean, it is my blog after all):

I wouldn’t say I’m looking for love, per se. I’m looking for someone I can go crazy with. Someone with whom I can cut loose, do things I wouldn’t normally do on my own, and enjoy the things more that I DO normally do on my own. Is that what love’s about?

I’m not sure. But this song isn’t about love, at least in its classical definition. It’s about living wild and free in the moment, enjoying life for the simple pleasures. Whether it be the sound of someone’s name, singing the lyrics of a song you don’t know, drinking an unfamiliar drink or kissing unfamiliar lips.

an unforgettable night

I did exactly that just this past weekend. I went to dinner with a girl to a place I never would have gone on my own (or even found, in all likelihood). We went to a hole-in-the-wall bar afterward where they let you smoke inside, and just lost ourselves in a couple games of pool, a few good songs and each other’s company. It’s an incredible feeling, just living for the night and flipping the bird to tomorrow. We swing danced, we sang, we smoked cigarettes as we lined up our shot on the pool table. It was raw, innocent and pure, untarnished by senses of self-worth, superficial misgivings and reality television.

We all need to cut loose and go crazy sometimes, losing ourselves in the lucid oblivion of present circumstance. While we’re young, be young and stupid. If we’re old, become young and stupid again, even if just for a moment.

WITH as opposed to a mere with

And sometimes…sometimes we understand that it’s nice to go crazy with someone else. And I don’t just mean with someone else, I mean WITH someone else. To feel the sun on your shoulders and the wind at your back with someone at your side. It reminds me of Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away.” This guy takes his motorcycle for a ride, stops in at a bar and meets a girl who decides to ride with him for a time. They end up not lasting the duration of the song, but that’s not the point. The point is that they had that time together in the first place. They celebrated their lives WITH someone, as opposed to with someone.

There’s definitely a romanticism to being alone, rolling down the highway with your only concern being your personal Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. “Here I Go Again On My Own” has always resonated with me, but there comes a time when being a lone wolf just isn’t enough. There comes a time when going crazy WITH someone else is exactly what you need.

Your thoughts?

I wrote this post in the dead of night and in less than 10 minutes. A famous writer once said you never have to change something you got up in the middle of the night to write, so I’m not changing anything. Straight from the heart right onto the computer screen. No hesitation (aside from a little editing, but I’m an OU PR kid – editing is in the marrow of my bones. And if some grammar nut reads this and noticed me ending the second sentence in the fourth paragraph with the word “with”, shove it). This shit’s authentic. Hah! Now go do something fucking stupid, like writing “fucking” in a blog that you know your boss reads.

“it’s just good music…


…if you can feel it in your soul.”

One of the best quotes from a country song. Ever. (ten points to the person who can name the song/artist)

There’s something about music that enlivens us. That inspires us. That energizes us the way no Red Bull or 5-hour ever could. That takes us to a level unattainable by mere words. Granted, poetry can have that effect, but that’s a little different vein of thought with which fewer identify. But for music…

You take a few simple words, and you make the rhyme absurd. Then strum a few basic chords for the best results incurred.

The burning, the yearning, that swells up your soul. The churning, the turning, your heart losing control.

How’s that for poetry? Hot damn I should be the friggin’ poet laureate.

Whether your taste buds prefer heavy metal, classic rock, bluegrass, reggae, R & B or any other music genre one can only hope to classify, music inspires any number of emotions that change from one second to the next. It’s a roller coaster ride minus the metal and brawn needed to build it.

the best show…

…I’ve ever been to was at the Agora in Cleveland – headlined by New Found Glory, with Something Corporate and Finch. Finch was the second band to come on and they put on a live performance that will forever be burned into my brain. Not because of the awesome music blaring from the speakers; rather it was because you literally could not stand up straight during the performance. The pit in front of the stage was  overflowing. We were drenched in sweat – not just our own but each other’s, as well. We were black and blue from mosh pits. We were screaming the words at the top of our lungs, our voices joined in one collective uproar of emotion and spittle. And it. Was. Glorious.

One moment you were in a rage, engulfed in a mosh pit where some musclehead just shoved you across the circle, the next moment you’re trading smiles with the cute punk girl you’re pressed up against in the maddening chaos, and after that you’re screaming the lyrics and losing your voice amid hundreds of other faded t-shirts, studded belts and tight bluejeans.

the only way to find yourself…

…is to lose yourself. Music provides a way to do just that. No thoughts. Just action. Just your body moving with the rhythm of the beat. It’s an elevated state of existence where your mind just seems to be vibrating in ecstasy, operating outside of the terrestrial world surrounding it. You focus on nothing, while realizing everything – a form of meditation.

Live wild, live free.

And turn the radio up.