I have a habit of telling someone how I really see them or how I feel about them. It makes people uncomfortable to hear the honest, heartfelt, good observations about themselves. I’m not blowing smoke up any asses, I don’t need to. There are people who find this annoying and for that I say too bad.
If a lyricist has written a song that makes me feel something whether it’s sadness, anger, lust, or enlightenment, I want them to know. If later they think I’m a nut job for my observations then it’s a shame. And I then feel shame for voicing my joy and appreciation for an art form I use to speak for me at some of the most important times in my life .
Sometimes when I’m angry and I can’t release that anger because there is a tremor in my vocal chords and a stutter in my brain I put a song on that equals that emotion.
I get cut off on the freeway- Pantera “Walk”
I think about my mom’s death and me- Blue October “Hate Me”
I’m happy sexy- Aerosmith “Chip Away the Stone”
The drinking love song- Aerosmith “What it Takes”
The drunk belt it out songs- Motley Crue “Home Sweet Home” and Aerosmith “You See Me Crying”
I could do a great “Ace of Spades” when I drank too but not now.
Since I was little music was such a huge influence on me. It had nothing to do with fame or fortune. These people got to sing and have other people HEAR WHAT THEY WERE SAYING.
When I spoke no one ever really heard what I was saying. They didn’t hear:
I don’t want to be here anymore
No one loves me
I let them hit me because it means they must care at least a little bit
I don’t remember last night
I’m sorry I just don’t want to feel
Now they try to hear me but don’t have the patience for the way I think and speak. They walk away.
When I tried to communicate with a person or 2 that I mistakenly thought would understand me I was laughed at, blocked, and saw the report where I was called “annoying”.
This 42 year old woman has been through things in her lifetime that would make most men squeal like a bitch. But I took it all.
I am now sober and where once I would beg to be pretty I now know that I am.
I still have a lot of work to do.
I won’t apologize for telling someone I appreciate what they do. Thank you again Mr. Tyler.
I’m not The Ass Maker anymore I’m Dana like it or not. P.S. I’m the one with reddish hair the other person is my hair dresser who listens to me and let’s me take my time and think before I speak. In exchange she get’s to do what she wants to my hair except cutting it short.