I found out I am really no one


I am no more or less important than you. I may convince myself that I am less because I cannot handle people but I accept that really we are all the same. We force divisions between ourselves, maybe so that we can protect our individuality, maybe so that we can start fights with whoever has a slightly different belief system to our own. I don’t know. I don’t understand people. But I thought the relative importance of the blogger may be a good starting point for the bloggee.

What I do know is that I’m capable of writing, in the sense at least that I can form sentences made up of words that will, on occasion, be placed in the right order. These sentences sometimes go on to from full paragraphs, and when I’m in the mood, these paragraphs will come together to create pages of writing. I’ve always enjoyed the writing, but I’m less of a fan of people actually reading what I’ve written. So if you are reading this, well done. And if you are not reading this then we must consider the possibility that something along the line has gone awry.

I know, I’m a smartass. You’ll get used to it eventually, I hope.

I can convince myself that I am more neurotic than you. This has got something to do with my difficulties in acting like a person. This may or may not be true, but the idea that I think about these sort of things surely proves that I’m not exactly right in the head. I’m happy to admit that. In fact I sometimes revel in my potential mental conditions. I like to have an excuse for my personality.

The address of this blog is accurate. Love is immature, yet adult almost by definition. Every generation thinks that they have improved upon the staid, awkward love of their predecessors, but I don’t think it ever works out that way. The attempts at being “grown-up” about love only caves into more immaturity. I am constantly in my mind creating a soundtrack to my life as a hopeless romantic. All my favourite songs are what the title suggests they are, sad songs for an immature lover (my personal spin on the title of an album by The National, who I will quote relentlessly whilst here).

I think that the thing I will do most of all in this blog is review music. I will not say if an album/artist is good or not, or attribute them a certain number of stars. I will listen to music that touches me on a level that I do not understand, and then I will relate these feelings as best I can here.

For instance, right now I am listening to Ambulance by TV On The Radio. I find it all too easy to lose myself in this song. The 3/4 chanting makes me forget about my sense of sight, the beautiful, cutting lyrics give me a visual of doomed, idealistic romance. I like to wallow in the lyric “all wrapped up in wrong”, knowing that everything I do is encased in failure, a sense of wrongness, imperfection. Wherever I can I will change the meaning of a song so that it becomes about me, because without such well-scripted situations to put myself into, my fantasies would be like everyone elses. Instead, Ambulance makes me desire to be rescued by a wounded soul like my own.

“I will be your accident if you will be my ambulance”

Save me, so that I can be saved, and so that you can have somebody to save. That is my view of  a relationship. The nervous, unconfident male being cared for by a girl skilled and willing enough to apply the bandages. I look to imprint myself into a situation such at this at all times, always aware of my inability to be my own saviour. Prove to me that I am worth saving, and I shall be saved.

I cannot talk frankly about the quality of music, I am not skilled or learned enough to do that. What makes a song better than any other, on a technical level at least? Is there some magical quality, like the quality of life itself, a certain set of notes replacing a certain set of chemicals, that will ignite a song into the realms of “good”? I don’t think so. It is the ability for a song to set off emotions, scenarios, passion and to make the listener connect entirely with the song. Whether this connection is in the manner the artist intended or a manner devised by the listener is not relevant.

I dont know yet whether every blog I make will be like this, but I think this is a good start. And I want to keep up the theme of music. So I guess we’ll see. I have a lot of passion for that particular topic, and I rarely find people who share the passion in the same sort of way. Not that I’m intending that in the elitist “you don’t understand them like I do” sort of way but yeah. I don’t know.

This feels like the natural conclusion to this particular blog. I do hope it wasn’t a stupendous failure. But maybe I should be realistic and accept that this is only only going to be read by the people I send the link to, and I’ll only send the link to Alex and Mel (and Tom, by proxy). Hey there guys. Comment if you like, but remember to close the door on your way out. Don’t want burglers do we? Like, you know, cyber-burglers who want to steal my… bytes.

I’ll be honest, I have no idea where this analogy is going.

Bye

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About Alex Pavitt
I work in the field of emotion. My tools are instinctual feelings and my laptop is the medium between my brain and the outside world. I deconstruct and rebuild. I imagine. I steal other people's lyrics because somtimes, my own words aren't enough. I spend all of my time somewhere inside my head. I worship Douglas Adams, and in the back of my mind I am always painfully aware that I will never be as good as him or, for that matter, anybody else.

One Response to I found out I am really no one

  1. Ignus Iudicium says:

    *shuts the door*

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