One thing I have found myself using as a study break is
music. I’m by no means a music expert, but I enjoy it. My friends finally
convinced me to make a Spotify account and I really like it (despite the ads, I
am not paying for it ._. and if I ever decide to go premium, someone slap me
and show me this post). The main thing I like about Spotify are the playlists
and the feature that allows you and your friends to follow one another’s
playlists. I already had four or five playlists created before making an
account, so I spent a solid hour just copying these over.
Anyhow, I’ve been enjoying this new music platform, clearly.
I think it’s obvious to just about everyone, as I’ve been annoyingly posting
song lyrics on my Facebook just about every day. You see, as much as I delight
in music, it’s made me incredibly homesick. About three or four years ago
(maybe longer, I’m so bad with timelines) my father and I started bonding over
music. We started creating playlists together, such as the perfect rainy day (which,
according to him, can only have songs that clearly talk about rain, but (according
to me) also have that rainy day feel) or a going home playlist (songs that
talk about home, which all carry a very similar, nostalgic vibe), even a playlist with songs to whistle along to. We would fight
over the aux cord every time we got into the car because we’d both have music
we wanted to share with the other. Recreating these playlists on my Spotify
reminded me of him. However, the worst part is when I started finding new music
for these playlists and wanted to share them with him. I don’t need to download
audio files anymore, so I emailed him a list of songs. But it’s not the same.
This is one of the first times I’ve been homesick for an
extended period. I’ve been feeling this way for maybe two weeks now. It’s an
odd feeling that sits at the bottom of your stomach and is somehow always
there, even if you’re not actively thinking about it. I’m sure most people
would roll their eyes to this, but it’s odd and sad to think about the fact
that I will never live with my parents again. I mean, this isn’t something I’ve
been oblivious to. I knew this when I decided to move out. But it still feels
strange when you think of the reality of it. It reminds you of all the little
things that once added up to be a big part of your life but will be no more.
Like listening to music in the car with your dad, going to your grandmas on
Sunday’s to gamble, walking your dog, or going grocery shopping with your mom.
I’m not trying to sound like a whiny child who doesn’t want
to grow up. Not by any means. It’s just that you don’t always think of the reality
of things, even if you make logical and progressive decisions. I knew these
truths before I left, but sometimes I’m reminded of them and it feels like I’m
realizing them for the first time. This brings all kinds of sentimental
feelings. I’m not overly sad by these thoughts, just nostalgic. But I cannot
let myself dwell in these feelings, whether they are good or bad. To dwell in
such thoughts for a long period of time is dangerous because you can
unintentionally convince yourself that you have lost something. Nothing has
been lost, things have just come to their proper ending.
“Moats and boats and
waterfalls, alleyways and pay phone calls
I been everywhere
with you (that's true)
Laugh until we think
we'll die, barefoot on a summer night
Never could be
sweeter than with you
And in the streets
you run afree, like it's only you and me
Geeze, you're
something to see
~
Oh, home, let me come
home
Home is whenever I'm
with you
Oh, home, let me come
home
Home is wherever I'm
with you”
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