The Power of Music

Do you ever do that thing of intending to watch just one YouTube video, then before you know it, it's two hours later and you've been clicking on so many links in the "recommended" section after each video you've watched, that you're not entirely sure you remember what you went on there to look at in the first place?!

That's what happened to me, last night.

It started off as a simple desire to watch Prince perform Purple Rain, after seeing someone mention the song on Twitter.  It's up there amongst my all-time favourite songs, so I decided to head to YouTube to indulge my love of it.  Amongst the recommended videos afterwards, was Guns n Roses' November Rain, another favourite of mine, so I watched that, next.  And, sure enough, in the recommended videos alongside that, there was another song I wanted to watch the video for.  And so on and so forth, until it was well past the time I had planned to be all tucked up in bed.

Pictured: Me, last night, when I should have been asleep...

One of the things I love about music is how you can get completely lost in it.  I wasn't bothered about going to sleep.  All I wanted to do was let the melodies surround me and enjoy the sensation that each song provided within me.  

Music is so powerfully personal, too.  A song that means nothing to one person, could be the song that reminds someone else of the happiest - or worst - time of their life.  Music can bring us back to moments we'd long forgotten.  Our memories have their own soundtrack and that's an amazing thing.

Last night, whilst I was on my journey from song to song, scanning the recommended videos after each one I watched and picking the one I liked best, I wasn't expecting so many memories to come flooding back.  But that's exactly what happened.

Some of them were funny memories.  For example, when I watched the video for Take That's How Deep Is Your Love, I found myself giggling over the fact that my sister used to say that the slightly odd instrumental sound just before the final chorus sounded like "a drunk owl."

Some of them were bittersweet memories.  Design For Life by the Manics just made me think of all the times I've seen them play that song live, nearly always with my gig buddy - and one of my closest friends - by my side.  She's chosen not to be in my life, anymore, as a result of a fallout I had with someone else, so the memories of she and I, arms aloft, singing our hearts out together, was tinged with an awful lot of sadness.

But then I clicked on a song in the recommended videos section, purely because I hadn't listened to it in years and I remembered loving it when I was younger.  And that was the moment that I realised that music doesn't just soundtrack our memories.  Sometimes, it envelopes them so tightly that we don't even know we have those specific memories, until we hear the song, again.

This was the song in question.

Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded House was, as far as I was concerned, just as pretty song I used to like when I was around 12 or 13.  But, as I pressed "play," I realised that it held within its melody, memories I had buried deep within my psyche.

Instantly, as the song began to play, I was transported back to the bus I used to take to secondary school.

Now, regular readers of this blog will probably already be aware that when I started secondary school, I went from being a bright, bubbly girl who enjoyed attention, to being a very withdrawn, depressed kid, with no confidence.  That is entirely down to the fact that I experienced horrendous bullying on that school bus.  Day in, day out.

I had completely forgotten the association that particular song had with that particular time.  But, as I listened to the music and sang along with the lyrics, it all came rushing back.

That was the song that I would frequently play on the bus, turned up loud so that my headphones drowned out as much of the name-calling as possible.  I would stare out of the window and listen to those words: "Hey now, hey now.  Don't dream it's over... You know they won't win."

I clung to those words.  I was going through a painful time, in which I was convinced that all the good times in my life were over.  My enjoyment of life, my confidence in myself, my belief in the good in people... All of it had been eroded by the daily Hell the bullies on the bus so loved to put me through.  But I wanted to believe that it would get better.  And so, those lyrics were a lifeline.  My life wasn't over.  And I wouldn't let them win.

Hearing that song again and reliving all of those memories was incredibly powerful.  It stunned me that I could have forgotten just why the song meant so much to me all those years ago, but I suppose that some memories are just too painful to fixate on.  

But, once the floodgates had been opened, I realised just how many memories I have that are intrinsically linked to the music I was listening to at the time.  For example, I can't hear Don't Look Back In Anger by Oasis, without remembering myself as a kid of 13, bouncing around the living room, shrieking with joy, because the song was being played at number 2 in the charts and I knew that meant that my beloved Take That's final single before their split, had gone in straight at number one.

Music is more than just a pleasant sound in the background.  It can be what sets a mood.  It can speak to us on a deeply personal, emotional level.  And, as I discovered last night, it can be the key to memories we thought were locked away, forever.

So, whatever type of music it is that floats your boat, indulge in it.  Shamelessly.  Music has extraordinary power.  Life without it is unimaginable.

A Picture Tells A Thousand Stories

This one acts as a reminder that doors are supposed to be closed at night...

My best friends have this little joke they like to share about me whenever we get together.  "We'll get home," they'll all say, "and half an hour later, the photos from today will be up on Facebook."

It's a fair comment.  I'm one of those annoying people who always has her camera in her bag and is forever looking out for a good photo opportunity.  I may not own a selfie-stick, but that doesn't mean that I don't take more than my fair share and every time my friend Lizzie and I come home from Butlin's, I spend at least an hour editing photos on my laptop and uploading them to Facebook (saving the best ones on my camera to be printed out later).  There's a shelf in my room that's pretty much groaning under the weight of several photo albums, all of which are packed with pictures taken over the years - complete with little handwritten notes beside each photograph, serving as a handy reminder of where and when it was taken.

And this photo might be a handy reminder not to eat as much cake as I do, these days...

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but for me, it's not simply words.  A picture can bring back a thousand memories, or tell a thousand stories.  When I look through my photo albums, I don't just see dozens of pictures of me and my friends or family in similar places, doing similar things.  I see reminders of days out, in-jokes, times gone by and people lost along the way.  I can judge by the clothes, hairdos or even the colour of the walls in our house as to when the picture was taken and from simply knowing the date (roughly, if I haven't scribbled down the exact date beside the photograph in the album...), I can remind myself of where I was in my life at that time, right down to where I was working, whether I had a crush on anyone or whether it was pre or post abuse (because when you've been through a life-changing event like that, you do tend to look at yourself as two different versions - pre and post).

A photograph can make you laugh, or even make you cringe.  It can cause you to wonder what on Earth you were thinking with your outfit choice, or what the heck you were doing when it comes to the bizarre pose you're pulling.  

A photograph can make you cry.  It can vividly remind you of a person who's no longer around.  It can bring back profound memories of what that person meant to you.  And of course, a photograph of someone who hurt you can cause enormous pain, if accidentally discovered.

For me, a photograph is not merely an image, printed out and stuck in a book.  It's a snapshot of a moment in time.  A memory, preserved forever.

Even if that memory is of thinking you might be about to plummet to your doom...

Yesterday, a friend gave me two new photo albums, complete with spaces for handwritten notes beside each picture I put in.  I have a whole load of photographs to sort out and stick in to the new albums and I'm genuinely excited about getting on with that little project for the afternoon, because I know that every photo I look at will bring back its own memories and cause me to smile, on an otherwise very grey and dull Sunday.

Everything we do - every place we go, every person we meet along the way - shapes us, even if only in a small way.  Pictures help to remind us of the journey we've been on.  And for every step of the journey left ahead, you can bet I'll have my camera with me...

Dear 16 Year Old Me...

Remove the dog from your face.  That's my first piece of advice to you.

Recently, I saw a very moving blog in the form of an open letter to the writer's sixteen-year-old self.  It might seem a bit self-indulgent, but I thought it was a lovely idea and so today, I would like to write a letter to my sixteen-year-old self.  My challenge to anyone reading this?  Write one to your sixteen-year-old self.  Let's start something of a fad. ;-)

Dear Emma,

You won't believe it, but by the time you come to write this letter, you will be twice the age you are right now.  You'll be 32 (I thought I'd save you the maths... We both know it's not your strong point) and life will have changed a lot.

I suppose I should get the bad news out of the way, first.  Take a deep breath:

You're not going to marry Lee Brennan from 911.  I know.  I'm sorry.  But you WILL meet him many years from now and he'll hold your hand and you'll make a sort of squeaky noise that might have been appropriate back when you still *were* sixteen, but is less so coming from a fully grown, adult woman...  

See?!  That really is you and him!

I should also tell you that you're not going to randomly find Richey Edwards from the Manic Street Preachers busking in Wadebridge.  Or Truro.  Or literally anywhere in Cornwall, or in fact, the WORLD.  So save yourself the effort and stop looking.

Okay, the really seriously bad news is coming, so brace yourself:  At 32, you're not married and you don't have kids.  You also can't afford to rent anywhere by yourself, so you're living at home with your mum and dad, saving up a deposit on a house, bit by bit.  I know how much this news is going to hurt you, so I want you to remember the crushing feeling you have right now, so that you don't torture yourself in the years to come.  It's not your fault that you're single - you're not unlovable, you've just been unlucky.  It's not your fault that you don't have kids, so please don't blame that on yourself, either.  And believe me, by the time you're 32, you'll have worked in childcare for 14 years and you'll have seen how hard it is to bring up children as part of a couple, let alone by yourself - don't wish for something that you're not in the right place to have, however hard it might be and however desperately you want it.  

Being single doesn't mean you've failed.  Being single doesn't mean you're hideous, or not a good person.  You have other forms of love in your life and they are wonderful.  Tell yourself often that it's better to be single than with someone wrong for you and that love might come along when you least expect it.  Tell yourself that as often as you can, because then, by the age of 32, you might believe it and it'll hurt you a lot less than it does me.

Don't compare yourself to other people, especially those very close to you.  You're not a genius.  You're not making loads of money in a glamorous career.  You're not married with kids (sorry to bring that up again), but you have worth.  You have a role to play in the world.  You are important and you are loved.  The best person you can ever be in this life is yourself.  

Oh, I know, you hate being you.  Your nose is too big.  Your hair is too curly.  Your teeth aren't perfect and you're only five feet tall.  But stop looking at the outside, because you're going to reach an age where you realise how superficial that is, anyway.  Look inside!  Your face might not be beautiful, but your soul is.  You're kind and friendly, creative and thoughtful.  So you've got an ugly nose...  Who cares?  You have some gorgeous personality traits.  At the end of the day, it's those that matter the most.  It's your nature, not your looks that will win you the best group of friends you'll ever have (you'll have to wait a while though; they don't come along until your twenties, but they're worth the wait!).  Oh and on the subject of looks?  You're going to get pretty good at make up and you'll discover chemical straightening at a local hairdressing salon.  Combine that with an eye for a pretty dress and you're set.  You'll never be a model, but you'll scrub up okay.  Just remember that your heart is the most important fashion accessory you'll ever have.  Show it - be yourself.

And seriously - chemical straightening...

Now, I've bigged you up a bit, but you know, I'm older and wiser (supposedly) than you are, so I'm going to give you it straight, too:  That gorgeous personality of yours has a few... Kinks.  I know you're proud of being "a little bit Greek Cypriot" and that's great.  But that fiery Mediterranean temper of yours?  Tone it down just a tad...  You don't always have to have the last word and you *can* walk away from people who are obviously just trying to wind you up.  You're going to spend a huge portion of your adulthood, trying to make up for the fact that you never stood up to the bastards who bullied you at school.  But standing up to people doesn't have to mean you lose the plot.  You may have an excellent line in swear-y insults, but, you know... Save them for when you really need them.  As a side note, be nicer to your dad; the two of you butt heads sometimes and that's never going to change, but he loves you and you know you'd be lost without him.

Try to stay a sensitive person, but don't be oversensitive.  Sometimes you make jokes and that's fine, right?  So just remember that sometimes other people do, too and you don't have to take them personally.  By the time you're my age, you'll be the one making the jokes about yourself, believe it or not!  Just remember to stay on the right side of putting yourself down.  By all means, take the piss out of yourself, but remember that you're only inviting criticism if you do nothing but highlight your perceived flaws.

Em, please never give up on your dreams.  You haven't at the age of 32, but it hasn't been an easy road.  You've had three - I know, THREE! - children's books published, which is a realisation of your biggest dream (or at least the biggest dream that didn't involve Lee from 911), but you're not a famous writer.  Yet.  You have to have a day job.  You have to keep trying.  And you have to promise me that you'll never stop trying.  Because I know that in the sixteen years between where you are now and where I am at 32 (sitting on the same bed, admittedly), you'll throw away perfectly good stories, because you don't believe in yourself enough.  You don't think you have any writing talent.  But you do.  And who knows what might happen if you're just brave enough to risk a few more rejection letters?  You could change your own future!  I could be writing this from a mansion, in between responding to mountains of fan mail...  I could give you the plot line of a multi-million-selling book called Fifty Shades of Grey, but despite the fact that you'd do a much better job than the author of that eventually will, you should always have higher standards than a book that glorifies abuse.

Speaking of which...

In China, Cherry Blossom can symbolise a strong woman.  This is my way of telling you that you are one.

On December 31st 2009, you're going to meet a man.  You're going to be swept off your feet, because he's gorgeous and witty and charming and intelligent and for some reason you won't be able to figure out, he's interested in you.  You should really run away as fast as you can from this man, because he's going to abuse you emotionally, psychologically and sexually for the next 20 months if you don't.  If you don't run from him - and I won't blame you if you don't, because I know how manipulative and persuasive he is - it will change your life, forever.  It will hurt you more than almost anything else ever has up to that point.  You will be broken, Em.  You will be completely floored.

But you will build yourself back up.  You will become stronger than you ever knew you could be.  You will dedicate yourself to raising awareness of abuse, in order to prevent others from going through the same thing.  You will make amazing friends with people who've been through similar things.  You will experience anger on such a deep level, it will make you scared.  But you will experience a profound love of the woman you become as a result of surviving.  And no matter what anyone says, you will have survived.  Don't listen to anyone who ever questions your experience, or says it's not abuse if he doesn't hit you, or that you must not have really loved him to be able to call him an abuser and walk away from him:  You will love that man so deeply it feels like a physical pain.  But he will not love you.  So please, when you meet him, if you can - RUN.  But if you can't, don't blame yourself and please just listen to your friends and your family when they express their concerns.  They're right.

And they haven't changed a bit, really, have they?!

Life isn't always going to be easy.  You'll have your heart broken more than once.  You'll cry and you'll shout and you'll wonder if things will ever get better.  But here's the thing, Emma:  They always do.  And when things do get you down, remember you have a wonderful family to fall back on.  You will only realise in your twenties just how much your parents have always done for you (and continue to do).  You'll be floored by the depth of their love for you - and yours for them - and you'll want to prove yourself to them and do whatever you can to ensure they know what they mean to you.  Once you're away from the selfishness of youth, you'll really understand the meaning of the term "unconditional love."  Never take them for granted.  

Your little sister is going to grow up to be infinitely cooler than you, but that's okay.  You're a nerd, but one day, you'll wear that title like a badge of honour... ;-)

There are so many things I want to tell you, but I don't want to spoil it all for you.  Some things you have to find out for yourself.  That said, here's a little list of things you might want to avoid doing:

• Don't let your mum go on a waltzer.  EVER.  She will throw up and you will still blame yourself years and years later, with a ridiculous level of guilt.
• When other people have problems and need you to be selfless, BE selfless.  Don't make your own problems more important.  They aren't.
• Hug Cal really tightly as often as you can and don't snap at him too much when he's being silly.  That dog won't be around forever and it will break your heart when he's gone.
• Don't be taken for a mug.  If you're doing all you can to maintain a friendship and getting a fair-weather friend in return, cut ties.
• Stop falling in love/lust so easily.  Seriously.  And then write a letter to me and tell me how you did it.
• Don't think you can drink a bottle and a half of wine to yourself.  You are and always will be a lightweight.  You will throw up.

Most importantly of all, just stop putting yourself down and stressing out about not being good enough.  Whilst you're busy doing that, you're letting life pass you by.  

Life isn't perfect, but its imperfections can be what makes it interesting, challenging and even beautiful.  Take the time to leave your problems to one side and just look around you, from time to time.  Stare into the starry night sky.  Run along a beach.  

Dance, even when nobody else is on the dance floor.  Dance, even if you don't know the moves.  Dance, even if you you're feeling sad, because with the right songs and the right company, you'll soon be smiling again.

Laugh, love, live.  

xxx