Painfully good.

I can't sleep. That's not uncommon. I couldn't go to sleep because my mind has been racing. That's not uncommon either. So I decided to blog about just one of the very many things that have been running through my mind.

Considering what time it is and my current location in my house, I'm expecting my dad to walk in here at any moment. He goes to work around 3:00 every morning. It is now about 2:50. He's probably going to wonder what I'm doing and I'll have to explain that I couldn't sleep and then he'll get all worried, because that's what he does. I am his one and only "little girl" after all and he's continually overly concerned about me.

Anyway, that's not what I came to write.

When I can't sleep, I often listen to music. I often listen to music in general, but times of no sleep when sleep should be found often seem like good times to listen to music. And I don't just listen to any music in general. I have to listen to music that means something to me. Music that I know well. Good music.

Good music is very relative. Ask a room of people to give examples of music they think is good, and you will get a variety of answers. I'm such a fan of music, that I rarely find anything I don't like, let alone think is bad. But even with my largely indiscriminate senses, there is music out there that I think is a step above the rest. That is what I call 'good music.'

But even when I find music that I think is 'good,' it's still hard for me to determine why I think it's good. But in laying here just a short while ago, listening to some 'good music' I think I figured it out. 'Good music,' for me, is music that confuses my feelings and leaves me not knowing how to react. And you can see it in my outward expression were you to watch me when I'm really allowing myself to try to process and express everything that's going on inside me while I listen to this 'good music.' It makes me want to laugh, to sing, to weep, to dance, to cover my face, to smile, to jump, to curl up in a tiny ball, to shout, to scream, to sit calmly and attempt to absorb the fullness of everything it has to offer, to bask in its glory, to pound my fists, to beat my chest, to get excited, to collapse, to fall apart because I don't know what to do.

So I do a combination of those things. I sing, or attempt to, but I can't quite get it out clearly because I'm crying too hard and laughing. I smile, but at the same time I have a pained expression on my face. But chances are you wouldn't see it because I have my hands in front of my face. I dance, but I want so much to curl up into that tiny ball that I look more like I've been injured. I imagine that it would seem like I was in actual, physical pain were someone to watch me. But really, that makes sense, because it's like I'm in pain. One of the reasons we look like that when we're in pain, is because the pain is overwhelming us and we can't take it. Good music, when I fully realize it for what it's worth, overwhelms me, and I can't take it. Thus I usually do this alone. Most often in the middle of the night. When I'm not distracted by the goings-on of day-to-day life and I'm more open to thinking about deeper things and emotions are more readily felt. I think that's why most of the more poignant times in my life occur at night, when I am alone. Well, alone except for God. He's also able to get through to me more at night, due to the lack of distraction. God obviously made me a night owl for a reason.

That is what I've been doing this night. Oh, and should you be wondering what music has been making me feel this way tonight, you shouldn't have to guess much. Downhere. I promise, I do listen to other music.