Nostalgic

Happy Monday, moths!

What a crazy Super Bowl ending huh? I hope you were all as stuffed with good food as I was last night. I think I'm still in a food coma from it all...there's always the gym, of course. Whether I actually go to it or not....well, that's another story.

Anyway, I had a thought pop up earlier along the lines of, "there's most likely nobody that actually reads these posts, so what's the point of continuing with what is probably just me talking to myself.." What's my motivation for staying with this blog thing? But then I remembered the whole reason I began this was to stray away from the social constructs of today's social media, where everything you post is a battle for the most likes or the most retweets (I haven't actually used twitter in about four years, mind you). It's so tiring checking my phone every five minutes after I post a picture on Instagram to see if anyone new has liked it. This blog wasn't made to be popular, where everyone talks about it and shares my posts. It is an outlet for my creativity, and thoughts, and passions--an online journal, of sorts. And if someone happens to come across my blog, read some of my posts, and take an interest in them, then that's wonderful! I hope that what I talk about (as crazy as it sometimes seems) reaches someone that feels the same way, or helps someone to think about something from another perspective. I love my blog and the content of it, and I hope others do too, but whether they do or not will not change my feelings for it. That's what makes this unique compared to other social media outlets.

So, I quickly threw that thought away and here I am, writing a new post: onto my discussion of the day!

If you visit my blog, you may notice that you are greeted with music playing. The songs I have on this little playlist are a couple of my favorites, so if you want to know more about me just have a listen to a couple of them. I know I know, none of these songs are from this decade, but I am thoroughly convinced that I was born in the wrong year. 1996? I missed all of the good stuff by then! I listen to 70s and 80s music more than anything from today's hits. They just don't make honest-to-God music like they used to because today's world doesn't have the patience or the ears to sit down for a few minutes and actually listen to what the song is saying. "Stairway to Heaven," by Led Zeppelin is eight minutes long, and at least a third of it is just instrumental. Hell, I'm pretty sure there are some Bee Gees songs that don't have any words in them at all! The point is, people got together to listen to this music because of the power it had to make them feel. There are some songs today that I am convinced are made up of imaginary words. Literally, some of them are just mumbling with some added beats created in a computer app. I didn't want to have to do this, but listen to this if you don't believe me, and comment on this post if you honestly can understand A SINGLE WORD IN THAT ENTIRE SONG. You've been warned.

I am a twenty year old Grandma--that is what I am often told when I say these kinds of crazy thoughts. 

I am not ashamed.

Where am I going with this again...oh, I remember! The songs on my playlist are some amazing pieces of work. But they all had to be inspired by something--or someone. Listen to the first song, "She's Always a Woman to Me" by Billy Joel, and really listen to the words. I'll give you a minute.
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Beautiful, isn't it? The point is that there had to be a woman of "She's Always a Woman to Me" that inspired Billy Joel to write a song after (or in Elton John's case, a man). Music back then was often inspired by real people, and to think they inspired songs that twenty year old grandmas, like me, are still stricken by forty years after it was released astonishes me. The same thing goes for poetry, or art, which is why I love it so much. Some poems/works of art are from hundreds of years ago and they are still discussed in college classes and romanticized in movies or high school plays--they stand the test of time. The idea that famous poems today were written centuries ago by someone who was so madly in love with someone else, moved to write down these beautiful, heart-aching words just to attempt to describe the hopeless passion they feel for them is beyond romantic (some may say I am a hopeless romantic, or something like that). It also pains my heart to think that these things only exist in the past, and that chivalry is truly dead. In a world full of hate and empty words and famous-hungry social media posts, it's hard to imagine that there are still people with pure souls, capable of living without the societal pressure of upholding popularity or the need to be liked by thousands of strangers behind computer screens they probably will never meet. I may have high expectations, but I'm firm in what I want, whether I find it or not. Maybe it's a stretch to try finding someone that writes poetry for me or wants to live out in the mountains with little phone reception, but I won't settle.

Wait, how did this become about my love life..?

*Sidetracked*

Anyway, I'm ending this with the notion that ordinary people have inspired famous poems/artwork/music for centuries, and you never know if you'll be the next source of inspiration for a song that fifty years from now is still being sung by a twenty year old grandma (again, like me)! We all have stories waiting to be told, the question is, are you going to keep waiting for someone to pick up a pen and write it for you, or will you tell it yourself?

Go on and inspire, moths. xoxo