Ever since I was in my teacher certification program, I knew that I have always been an auditory learner. I understand better by listening. I even find it easier to sort things out just by talking them out to somebody else (even if they don’t really participate other than to agree to let me yap at them for a bit). Until teacher cert. I thought I was just weird, but now I understand it and leverage it whenever I can.
In turn, I have always been more entranced by music than by visual artistry. For example, feats of acrobatics in the one show of Cirque du Soleil I had the privilege to see in person certainly drew my applause, but afterwards I bought all their soundtracks and none of their DVDs. I didn’t need them. The music brought me back, and I had those feelings again just by listening.
Referencing my last nsfw post – even the media I enjoy for that sort of thing is purely audio rather than video, 75% or more of the time.
Like everything else in my life, this is a double-edged sword. Music that reminds me of pain or loss will probably do so until the end of time. The worst ones are the pieces that I find staggeringly beautiful and intoxicating…and yet they hurt…a lot…at the same time.
I should have known better. Yea, I wasn’t feeling well and wanted a certain genre of music to try and help me settle down to sleep…but as ever and always, I didn’t bother to be careful when clicking through an old playlist…
Now I’m crying my eyes out, and my hopes that typing here would help dam those flood gates has not yet yielded any positive results.
Why can’t I ever, ever avoid these self-inflicted landmines?
Living Undead 