Perception & Chopin.

Often times I find myself wondering (especially during the time period I'm at swim practice), what makes people so mad? Angry, even sad. How can you hate something so much, even though it may be for the simplest of reasons? And the even greater question I contemplate, is how can someone explain their feelings so incredibly through only their ink and blood on paper, and then turn these feelings into music to reveal to the outside world? Actually, I understand their reasoning, and how they do it... even though it is so difficult to explain. But I find myself so admirable of their capability of writing something so beautiful, that generations later, people can still relate to. They can still laugh, or cry at what this person years ago was currently feeling. And as a musician, it's so astonishing to know that people can relate and understand how you feel without even knowing you personally; or saying a single world to you ever, for that matter. I often find that it's comforting to know that someone thousands of years ago was feeling exactly how you currently are; and they don't need to cover or hide any of their music with completely pointless lyrics. & There are times like these are when I appreciate being a musician, more than ever.

This is no place for me to try to live my life.

Las Vegas. The City of Sin. The city millions of people spend millions of dollars just to try to get lucky... something I still don't fully comprehend, because you can't buy luck.
This is the place I call home.



This is Washington. Somewhere I can imagine myself living. Somewhere people understand one another.
This is a place I would like to call home.

I sit here tonight, jealous & sad of people that live any place else in this world. If it were up to me, I'd pack up everything and leave this beat up city in a heartbeat. It's the middle of November, and the weather is barely 40 degrees. During the daytime, it almost gets up to a high 70 degrees. There has been no fall colors, just the colors of smoke filling the air. There has been no rainfall, just the water dripping down the streets from cars being washed. There is nothing beautiful about this city.

I should be wrapping myself up in blankets, sitting next to the fireplace, sipping some coffee and analyzing music just about this time of year, not walking around in my short-shorts of pajamas on Facebook, dreaming of how much better life could be. I want to live somewhere where the summer isn't so dreadfully hot, where the winters fall with snow, where the leaves change colors in the autumn, where the spring blossoms with billions of flowers & there is rainfall to bring me true happiness everyday. But no. I live in possibly the worst place there could ever be for people of my kind. I want to live somewhere where people don't fill their lives with drugs & alcohol, and go out partying every night. Somewhere where scenery is the view of a river in the woods, or animals in the mountains, rather than neon lights glowing out in the middle of a random desert.

I'm so sick and tired of this place I call "home". I am so sick and tired of all the people here, and everything about it. I want to go somewhere where I can think in fresh air, and where the architecture is more beautiful. Where I can play my music in peace, and where I can leave my windows open without worrying that someone will break in. Somewhere... ANYWHERE safe.

I can't wait to get out of here. I'm only barely 16 years old, and I want out. I want a new life, with new people and a different way of living. I'm already looking at colleges, and campuses, counting down the days until I get out here... This hell hole that I am undesirably forced to call home.

Hello there.

I felt it was so unnecessary of me to keep all my feelings bottled up, or just written down in music. So I'm going to give this blogging thing a try, for all my late-night & restless thoughts. Let's see how this goes.