Wednesday, November 24, 2010

'...She shall have music wherever she goes.'

I'm not sure what really triggered my musicality. I've always had a penchant for the synchronisation of airwaves to produce an audibly pleasing mix.
Maybe Facebook's omnipotence came to fruition when some quiz churned out 'clairaudient' after I asked it what my sixth sense was. Not really. But I enjoy playing along with the theory that an algorithm can know you inside and out. To an extent.

I find it ironic. Maybe.

Anyhow. My daily life has regularly involved music from the start to the finish - I wake up to whatever is on my alarm - sometimes it's Paramore, sometimes it's Anberlin. At the moment it's my Jpop collection.
I'll make the twenty-minute sojourn to my learning centre, usually listening to music of some kind.
Since we started doing mostly individual stuff at TAFE, I have taken most firmly to the wearing of headphones. Simply put, my classroom consists of all-females. They talk. They whine. They bitch. I'm not innocent of these things, but hearing them for six hours straight will usually send most people batty. Headphones in, conversations out.

I didn't listen to radio or Ipod on the way home, but now that I am in interaction space with younger siblings, their music comes into play.

As a result, 'Dynamite' by Taio Cruize was on its fourth repetition. And nobody was turning it off.


Problem fixed.

It just seems to me that a lot of my life seems to revolve around those synchronised sound waves.
When one song stops, another starts. If the battery goes flat, we turn on the radio, or listen to someone else's music for a change. There seems to be almost no escape.

Is that a good thing?