Silverboat

I write songs. I'm a song-writer. This is quite uncomfortable to type and state. But my perceived truth is that this is the truth. I'm coming to terms that if I'm consistently creating music, regardless if it is good or bad or shared or not, that I'm a songwriter.

When I was an itty bitty child, I recalled making up tunes in my head and singing in the street and thinking: ohhh! so cool! this sounds cool-I made it! Of course, as soon as the tune is created, it goes away but it was fun.

In elementary school and junior high school, I began writing poems and snippets of songs. It wasn't very good but there were some gems in the mix that I later adapted into full songs. 

In my senior year of high school, I finally created a full song. I was in math class and was terribly bored. The song, melody, lyrics, tune came first and then the title. It was one of the easiest song that came to me. I didn't really have to work for it. 

I would like to share this song, along with the lyrics: Youtube link here. Enjoy!

Silverboat

Jump off a silverboat

thought it was all a dream

woke up once again

turns out to be reality

Lost in a train of thoughts 

think it will go away

stuck in a funky place

I swear, sometimes, I'm just in LaLa Land

so lost, so confused

I can't seem to get it straight

the walls, the sky

it looks the same to me

And it's like 1+1=3

And I can't figure out who's me

Lost in the trance of hypnotizing beat

ponder off to where thoughts should not meet

Care to join me?

Everything's perfect here

thought I saw Mr. Perfect here

He invited me for a walk

onto his silverboat

Right there we shared a dance

Right there he touched my lips

Oh such a perfect kiss!

I swear, sometimes, I'm just in LaLa Land

So lost, so confused 

I can't seem to get it straight

the walls, the sky

it looks the same to me

And it's like 1+1=3

And I'm still figuring out who's me

Lost in the realm of reckless daydream baby

ponder off away from my own sanity

So here ends my fairytale

Here ends my daydream mess

Mr. Perfect's here no more

perhaps he never was

I swear, sometimes I'm just in LaLa Land

so lost, so confused

I can't seem to get it straight

the walls, the sky

it looks the same to me

Perfect, lovely

This is no way to be

It's just a fantasy

So I jump off the silverboat! 

<3

Retelling of tale of the good dog and the bad dog

For the past year or so, it became abundantly clear that I needed to do something with what’s going on inside of myself. I have songs in my head, thoughts in my mind, emotions in my heart, and stories in my soul that was becoming stagnant inside of me.

On multiple occasions, I recalled having this knowingness that a quiet voice, deep within me, is screaming in its meek way, asking to be heard. It wasn’t until recently that I found the words to say it: I want to share my soul. So here I am.

I would like to share a classic parable of the tale of two wolves/dogs. For my own liking, I’ll use dogs instead of wolves in this retelling.

The story goes like this. Inside each and every one of us, there exist two dogs fighting for our attention within. There’s the good dog who represents kindness, compassion, love, and all good things. Then, there’s the bad dog who represents anger, jealousy, hate, and more hurtful things. They are constantly at war. And, what determines who wins is dependent on who we feed; who we give our attention to…

The lesson is to feed the good dog; think of good thoughts; and, be goodness all around. Like most parables, it created an extreme circumstance to prove a point. But, as I gained wisdom in my life, this parable really didn’t sit well with me. Though, I don’t want a war inside me, I don’t want to kill a part of me either.

My good dog has been well-fed and shown off to the world. You all know my good dog. I am kind, compassionate; I am filled with love, laughter, joy, and so much sweetness. I am all of the good characters that a person can embody. But the bad dog is part of me too…

Hurt; Fear; Insecurities; Arrogance; Moments of hate and jealousy. Distrust.

And I’ve been neglecting my bad dog, depriving it of any attention, starving it—perhaps trying to kill it. But that’s not okay.

In my story, I don’t want to feed one and starve the other. I want to show both that I care for both of them, that whatever their nature is, I wholeheartedly accept and embrace them, that I love them. And perhaps then, instead of having a constant battle of good dog vs bad dog…I can just have two dogs who are not pitted against each other because they know I love them both. I cherish both dogs.

And I think so often, people just encourage and embrace the positives that the negatives get repressed. And then, without attention, it fester into a different beast-because it has been holding onto the hurt and distrust for so long.

I am not a girl on a pedestal. I am not perfection. I am not trying to paint myself as a saint. I am a multi-layered whole person.

I’m not writing this for attention (This might be my bad dog talking, making judgments and assumptions of judgments and assumptions that others might have). Keep your “likes” for your needs.

I am writing and sharing because I need to share what my soul/my heart is bursting to share. I’m writing because someone might need to read this to relate, to understand. I’m writing because, right now, every cell in my body is saying I need to.

And, to filter and repress myself; to only show my strength and grace is to deny myself of what is real. The good and the bad.

I don’t intend to showcase every negative thought because that’s unnecessary. But I do plan to share what I feel is important to share: the good and the bad. My good dog has been really well-fed, but my poor bad dog has been abandoned by me. And, I’m trying to heal that relationship. 

Awakening from the dream

A few days ago I woke up from a pretty telling dream.

It started out as a typical boy-girl dream. There’s a girl who likes a boy and the boy seems to like her too. A very innocent dream of girl likes boy-does he like me, does he not? I was the girl.

The setting was in a vacation place and we were getting ready to do some water activities, but we had to shower and get dressed first. So, we went to a dorm like setting where there was a common room before the showers.

Then, suddenly, this other girl appeared in the dream. I don't know who she was, but her presence was so familiar. She took over the conversation and, at one point, tried to show him my dirty laundry-literally. I made some protest and didn’t want to be further involved so I moved away to the shower stall, trying to get ready to head to the waters. But then she followed me.

For whatever reason, I felt a need to appeal to her to diffuse the situation so I tried to show her my vulnerability. Something about white-streaks marks being stuck on me because of the sunscreen I was using, sillyness. But, in my dream, that was something that was very vulnerable. We fixed the sunscreen situation by using water to rinse out the streaks. All seems well…

...Until we went outside and I was a bit further away than her and she started throwing things at me. I don’t remember what she was throwing at me. Something that was not innately dangerous or malice except for the fact that she was throwing them in a hostile and aggressive way towards me. I might have vocalized for her to stop but she didn’t.

Eventually, I tried to find some objects nearby to throw back at her to defend myself. I was attempting to hit the objects that she was throwing at me-not aiming for her. I think I had nails nearby.

Then, the boy showed up and I was trying to have him see and understand the situation, but he didn’t. He defended her and said something like “look at what she’s throwing at you, she’s not hurting you.” But she was. She attacked me even though I protested.

I stopped trying to defend myself using her method of throwing things because I felt like I was being drawn into the vicious cycle. Though I stopped, she continued. So, I tried to block what was tossed at me and succeed for a little bit. Eventually, she got hold of some nails and started throwing those, culminating in her finding a knife and tossing it at me. I took a moment to think and wasn’t able to dodge it and it nicked my throat. I woke up.

It was a crazy dream. But, heartbreakingly, it’s not the first time that a theme like this sneaks into my dream world. Essentially, here’s the significance broken down:

1)      My voice, my truth, is damaged, hurt, and lost.

2)      I didn’t know how to get out of that cycle of abuse without getting hurt.

3)      The process of constantly trying to evade attacks is exhausting and draining.

4)      I felt a need to appeal to people who are trying hurt me through showing my vulnerability in a desperate hope that they won’t see me as a threat; in a hope that they won’t want to hurt me because I’m weak.

5)      There was a part of me that felt like I needed a physical injury to show that tool-of-guy, the unfortunate only witness, that I’m hurt and need understanding.

I don’t know if I’m comfortable with sharing, or quite fully understanding, where this sense of hurt came from. Nonetheless, it is so apparent that it’s there and that I’ve lost my voice for so long. I would say things, try to share my soul/my truth and not be heard. And, that hurts.

I thought it is important that I begin to find my voice again by sharing this dream. 

I care, but I don't, what you make of it.