The black rock is where I spend my time
Writing a memory or writing a rhyme
Thinking about what is right or wrong
On the black rock is where I like to go
After a long night coming home from a show
And that's where I write my song, all day long, the black rock
I complained on Twitter earlier today that it's giving me writers block. The whole 140 character thing is wonderfully exciting and fun--until you have to write a five page paper for a doctoral level course.
I suppose though, to have writers block, you'd have to consider yourself a writer--or a procrastinating college student--of which, I'm neither. And so to write this, I do what I do best. Borrow someone's words that are far more eloquent than mine. O.A.R.
Sometimes I just look around to take in the feeling coming out from the ground
But that's something I do sometimes
And then I just step out the door to take in the wind coming off the shore
And that's just what I'm doing tonight
Really, all the pressure has come from stumbling upon an amazing blog, and wanting to write something deemed--in my mind--worthy of sharing. Simply reading the premise, I wanted to be able to share. But as I read other women's words, I became so intimidated, that the writers block set in harder.
The black rock is where I spend my time
Writing a memory or writing a rhyme
Thinking about what is right or wrong
On the black rock is where I like to go
After a long night coming home from a show
And that's where I write my song, all day long, the black rock
So I resorted to brainstorming while reading old blog entries from my other accounts, listening to old music, and simply thinking about the old friends I "chatted" with today and what they've seen me through. Much of it without them realizing. I am who I am because of my past. Most of us are. But I've spent the past year of my life struggling to reclaim parts of mine.
And when you are on your own, not speaking out is like fighting alone
And that is the worst damn way to fight
And when you are scared no more, reach your hand out and just open the door
And that's just what I'm doing tonight
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy in my life--great job, great guy, working on a great education, ya know, the works. But there are days...when that song comes on the radio and I'm thrown into a whirlwind of emotions I can't control. The days where I sit in my car and feel so incredibly alone. It's these days that the only people I feel I can turn to, that know me, don't live within an hour of me. And those that are here weren't around for the story.
The black rock is where I spend my time
Writing a memory or writing a rhyme
Thinking about what is right or wrong
On the black rock is where I like to go
After a long night coming home from a show
And that's where I write my song, all day long, the black rock
I've had enough school and psychology courses to know that what traumatizes one person can simply be a bump for another. Each of us is different, and each of us have different triggers. Many of my triggers are dates and songs. Once either has a meaning for me, it's not forgotten.
One, maybe two, three four five years ago til today
Surrounded by many
Many nights, spent all alone
I think part of the reason this has stayed in draft form for so long, was because I again just ran out of words. And so I let it sit. I kept living my life, tried to live in the moment, and the mean reds passed. Until they came back.
I know that it sounds like complaining,
You can trust me I do it all the time
You can run just as fast as you want to
But you're stuck with yourself all the time
I can run as fast as I want to
But I'm stuck inside my mind
There's something about packing up and leaving all you know that leaves one a little melancholic. Doesn't matter that I was moving to better things, new career experiences and a life with A that I've been dreaming of for four years; it's different, and hard to leave all you've known for 26 years.
So I do it then, what I may what I might not
I'm getting kind of tired, Television Man
Don't tell me who love
Don't tell me who to hate
And so here I am. In a new apartment in a new state, just Muffet, A and myself. Once I arrived, the scary disappeared...
I'd rather live my life blind-not see a thing at all
These colors confuse me all the time
That's why in my dream, I live it mighty good
I'm a prince. I'm a king. I'm a warrior.
And I'm doing things right. All the time.
And I know I have to be patient to create and find my niche here. I believe in myself that I shall do great things when it's my time to do great things. But I've got to keep working and being patient until then...
Til this one night I found an old man
Sittin' on a big black rock
Got a beard grown down to his knees,
Wisdom he spoke
Knowledge he breathed
I asked him "What's your name?"
He said "I'm Old Man Time.
And my son, well I've been waiting for you so long.
I can see your in pain,
And I know somethings wrong.
I know you have been angry
Know you've seen hate
You've got to dig deep to deliver above
Sit. Learn. Create.
You gotta lose all your anger. Lose all your hate.
It ain't gonna work no more.
I wish the world was run by love.
Absolutely nothing more.
I laid down all my pain.
I got rid of my hate.
Now I'm just chillin' on a big black rock for the rest of my life.
This is where I'll stay.
We all have a black rock in our mind...
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