I was watching this tribute to Brandy and at the end India.Aire was talking to her saying, “I don’t think you really get just how much people revere you or how you’ve inspired other singers.” I thought to myself, the best compliments have got to come from people who speak your language. Then India kept saying, “I just don’t think you understand…” and I amended my thought to include “…if you can hear it.”
When I hear music, not junk but true music…that is made for the heart not the ears my skin gets hot. My body tingles and I see it. Its like notes paint a picture for me and rather than a brush, a dancer smoothes the notes across an endless canvas; more like a horizon. I feel very connected to music, and I have always admired those that can close their eyes (figuratively and literally) and engage in a type of intercourse with rhythm. I’ve envied that, speaking honestly. I have because I want to. I wondered briefly if everyone has this reaction to music, if everyone says to themselves, “I know I could sing that!” I could perform that. I could breathe life into that. My guess was no.
So I have the soul of an artist. She keeps talking to me, she wants certain freedoms that I, on the surface, feel are out of reach. She keeps telling me they’re not but I don’t believe her. What keeps me from reading monologues with the voice that’s in my head? The voice of the character. I’d rather write them. I am comfortable in my strength there, but its become too comfortable. Lol, its funny I feel like Audrey II from Little shop of horrors when she outgrows her pot.
What keeps me from singing? I can. I have before but in choirs where I add to sound rather than be The sole producer of it. What keeps me from dancing. God I want to so badly. When I hear some things I do close my eyes but I limit the movement to the me that exists in my head. Why am I holding her captive when she just wants to express herself?