Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 1 Issue 22

I’ve slowly become addicted to a new channel on my cable service known simply as the Science Channel. I am totally fascinated at some of the discoveries/theories/observations that some of these people can come up with (for instance the whole multiple dimensions and parallel universe ideas going on right now are re-dunk-u-luss, yeah I said it, re-dunk-u-luss). My intelligence is way, way, way too underdeveloped to even to try and imagine to debate some of these theories previously mentioned but there’s one I’d like to take a shot at; the “universal” language.

For the sake of argument (plus I’m not sure if I’m suppose to use MLA, APA, or Chicago style to cite in a blog) we’ll go ahead and assume that mathematics is the “universal” language. The supporters of this so called theory present the fact that mathematics do not lie and that everyone agrees on it’s principles and formulas and bottom-line equations. I am not one trying to debate any of these facts (that would be intellect suicide, and while I’m not a chart topper in this area any kind of criticism in that arena on my behalf couldn’t be good for me) but I will be the devil’s advocate here and ask “what about music?” Call me old fashioned but I believe the term universal should be defined as all encompassing, in other words every person (let’s not muddy the waters and stay with facts, hint hint intelligence beyond our atmosphere) should be able to communicate while using the “universal” language. I for one cannot imagine that of the 6.7 billion people on this earth they all understand mathematics. But I would bet my prized Sean Casey autographed baseball card (he wrote D-rok on it, SSBT) that all of them can relate to some kind of music.

That is what I consider the amazing thing about music, it speaks to all of us in one manner or another. I for one do not have a lick of musical talent in my bones; I can’t read music, play music, sing, or write music (it should be noted though that I could jam on a mean recorder back in my middle school days). However there’s something unbelievable about music that no math problem could ever do on me, send me back to another time. I love it when I hear a song on the radio or what not and I am mentally thrown back to the era in my life when that song was most prevalent. “Jump” by Van Halen came on the other day and I was instantly thrown back to my Dad’s rescue ranger in the mid eighties with the windows down and the music up. My two brothers and I standing up all in the back half cab of the truck just jamming out to this hair band classic as we cruised around the back roads of Clark, Greene, and Madison counties (mind you we were around the ages of 3,5, and 7, sorry Mom you had no chance with us). I think everyone is more than likely thinking of that one song when they grew up and I dare you to go download it now and play it, the images, feelings, emotions, and utter delight that rushes back to you kicks the crap out of logarithms.

During my episode last year I had one of these musical experiences however the outcome and overall play out of it was a bit different. I can recall sitting in my living room listening to music when all of a sudden the urge to spark a J hit me (that’s marijuana in case my hip lingo left you behind). At this point in my episode I was smoking from time to time to try and calm down (while being as high as the Rockies in a manic state sounds fun, it’s not quite what you think it would be if you’re still in your living room but think your on top of the mountains) so that wasn’t the unusual thing, it was that I was smoking with Jimi Hendrix (mind you prior to this meeting I had heard Jimi’s tunes, who hasn’t? but I did not own any of his records or knew much about him to warrant this introduction). There are a few difficult things to explain about this; one Jimi Hendrix is dead, two I don’t know how to roll a joint, and three Jimi Hendrix is dead. How I rolled that joint, I couldn’t tell you, why Jimi Hendrix was there, I couldn’t tell you, how Jimi Hendrix was there, I couldn’t tell you. Jimi Hendrix was 27 when he died, I was 27 at the time, Jimi Hendrix was BMD, I’m BMD, and Jimi Hendrix loved music, I love music. While these three things seem so simple I think that’s the point. I continually look to make things out to be more complex than they really are. Life is simple and I need to try and realize that and live it for what it is. The “universal” language isn’t complex math problems, it’s the simplistic expression of ourselves and what better form than music; something everyone can relate to.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

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