More Reasons Why Being Deaf Sucks/Rocks – Mourning the End

I’m in a weird place right now. Usually, I tend to be optimistic in my outlook, and genuinely believe that everything will work out. I try not to sweat things or stress things, and I just try to be mellow in my everyday activity.

But right now I’m bummed out. There was this one thing that I swore was going to happen, but I’m doubtful that it will come to pass now. I mean, I’m talking, I believed it with all of my core, despite all indications to the contrary. But finally, something occurred that appears to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and now I’m basically without the thing that was the light at the end of my tunnel. (Man, I totally wish I could have crammed in more clichés in that last sentence.)

As a result I’ve been in a real down mood. The music that I’ve been listening to for the past few days isn’t necessarily the stuff that’s going to make me feel better; in fact, it might feed my melancholy into a full-blown depression. But it’s what I want to listen to, I’m not quite sure I want to get over it right now, I sort of want to respect that dream of mine has died and will mourn it accordingly.

The first night that I realized the dream was over, I was all about soundtrack music. I’m a pretty big fan of David Holmes’ soundtrack work, so I put in Out of Sight and Ocean’s 11. You can’t go wrong with Jon Brion so I added Punch-Drunk Love and Magnolia, and finally, decided to I round things out with the Dust Brothers-composed Fight Club soundtrack.

And that was good. I needed that music for the first night. But then, last night I wanted to hear something different. The soundtrack stuff had done its thing and run its course, and it was time to move on.

So Wednesday night I shifted gears and went about setting a mood. So in went Bilal’s Love for Sale (still unreleased!), Thicke’s Beautiful World and something I like to call “The Controlled Burn Mix.” Basically, this compilation is three discs of baby-making music commissioned from me by two co-workers.

Yeah, basically Wednesday night was all about frantic hanging on to the shards of a shattered notion. Good times.

But tonight, I’m switching things up again. I really can’t decide who I want to listen to, as I’m torn between Sufjan Stevens and Elliott Smith. Honestly, you can’t go wrong with either, but if I go with Elliott Smith, that means that I’m resigning myself to staying in the somber mood, and if I’m going with Sufjan Stevens, then I’m willing to have a dab of fun with my sour times.

Decisions, decisions.

(Sorry for being such a downer this week, but next week will hopefully be the return of quirky fun or off-color snark.)

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