The Locked Door In Me

My new album is almost finished. I've got about two weeks before its release in March. I have to finish it in time before my students become out of reach. I would have liked each of them to have a copy, but because of financial constraints, I can only give it to some, unless I opt not to give them my other gift... It "costs" to be a friendly teacher...

I dont hesitate spending my money on my students, but the trouble is, I dont have anything to spend. I am always broke. Shit, I even lost my only investment - that blasted fone. I hope you die! You who took my fone, I know your face thief! The next time I see you, I'll slam you to the ground!

Anyway, back to my album... I found it harder to make this second album than when I was making the first one. I keep on changing the lineup. The first one came more smoothly, naturally. And when I listen to it, I feel like I am cradled from one song to another. Like I am recalling the things which have happened to me the first semester of the current school year. It was the best album that I have made so far. Will I surpass that with my second album? It is hard to judge since I was really in a "right" state back then. It is different now, when I hardly have anything to vent. My skies are bluer and clearer at present, not like the iron gray clouds which used to streak the sky of my past. Dreary, and yet full of passion.

Sometimes, I miss those times. Since I was never so close to myself as I was back then. I think I am a masochistic. I like pain, in a way. Maybe I just miss those times when life seemed so sharp and vivid.

I am not saying that I do not like where I am now. I am in a "homey" state at present. Of course, being here is great in a different manner. A bright state in an unselfish way. Like Im in a garden full of flowers, everything looks so fresh and wonderful...

This new album, I have to admit doesnt make me feel as much as the other. But it is still great, Im telling you. Some songs make me smile, some cut me, some makes me wonder about everything which has happened. It really feels great to listen to something which sums up a period of your life. I like making albums. I hope I wont stop as I grow older.

My new album, for one thing, is happier than the previous one. It has more upbeat songs and less slow or gloomy ones. You will have a lesseer chance of falling asleep listening to this. I dont know... until I listen to my finished second album, I will not ba able to judge which is better. And besides, why judge? Each album, like what Alanis said, is like a different room in your house. Each has its own distinct smells and memories, so perhaps maybe it will not be okay to compare one different thing from another.

Why am I blogging about this nonsense? Nonsense for you, but not for me. Making an album is not simply choosing songs you can relate to and compiling them in one CD. It is about looking back at the songs which became a part of you back then. Back then when I cried, when I was hurt. Back then when I was happy, when everything started from blood. Making an album is arranging these songs such that each feeling will flow from one to another. A smooth ride.

It is like telling a story. You introduce it with intersting sounds, before you go deeper into the real stuff, and then closing it with as much memories as you can inflict. With as much effect as if a part of you died with the end of the album. Which, indeed, is what really happens. As the last song comes, a part of my life ends.

Making albums is my way of connecting to people. My way of telling them of what happened to me. My own special means of giving a part of my life to others. Of making you feel than in the short term that we have met, you have made a strong impression on me that I am willing to let you enter the walls of my private domain. That you have been a part of my life, and hopefully, I have been a part of yours too. It is akin to letting someone read your diary...

Rereading my entry makes me feel weird about myself. Its like I have become a total heartbag, if I might invent such a term.  I always feel too much, use my heart too much. I wonder why other people are not like me? Is being like this bad? I dont care. I am just putting all my passions into the things which matter most to me in life. And what are those? Memories, friends, my life.

I am far from having the perfect life. And yet I am contented with what I have now at present. I always feel so full internally. Is that love? Maybe... I just feel good, that's all.

I recall Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix... The final fight scene at the Department of Mysteries. Inside one of the rotating doors is a room where wizards attempt to study love. Harry and the others were not able to open it.

I think I really am like Harry in this manner. He uses his heart more often. He cares so much about his friends... Perhaps I really am Harry after all.