Tuesday, November 15, 2011


My ipod is on shuffle and Mariah Carey’s Without You came on. I remember being in Primary 4 when I first listened to this song because she was my aunt’s favourite. I would play her album on my grandma’s cassette player, ignoring my homework, trying to memorize the lyrics to the song, and I would begin to sing it wholeheartedly, complete with an invisible microphone.

During that point of my life, I was really famous to a deaf and imaginary audience. My non-existent singing career peaked but just as what goes up, must come down, my popularity has declined since. Gravity gets us all in the end, if it hasn’t come for you, trust me, it will.

Automation brutally murdered nostalgia. Those were the days when it took some effort and we had to manually rewind the cassette to repeat a song. Oftentimes, we ask for things to change, thinking it would make things easier for us. We try to save time, money and resources, and limitation is the reason for our conservation. Then, we begin to correlate ourselves to our daily resource limitations, and act like we’re never enough.

Honestly, I felt a little sad when I heard the song. It’s weird what a song can come to mean to you, even without you making a conscious effort. A sad song, or any song for that matter has the ability to immortalize a moment. You save moments of your life in a song. You save emotions in a song. You save the people you can, and can’t hold on to in a song.

On another thought, while I love and hate how sad love songs make me feel, which is rather bittersweet, I think it’s a brilliant idea to cash in on your heartache and make a hit record. That has got to be some kinda consolation, no? Now we’re talking business, and you know me and how I got money on mind, and never in my pocket, or if I had pockets to begin with.

- love and light, adrenalene

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