Epiphanies

I can’t remember if I specified in my last post that I was taking vocal classes. Well, I am. I’ve realized some things about me and singing. For those of you who might not know, I actually adore singing. I sing a lot. I hum, I whistle, I tap, I dance. I fucking love music. I also like making music, I just don’t have the skillset, yet. But, the passion of music I have has always been for singing. I don’t know why I like singing so much. Some people love playing instruments to make their music. I happen to love singing. I make up random, one line songs quite often. If you recorded me for a day you’d see I sing a ton when I’m by myself and when I’m not. It’s fun, it’s soothing, it’s cathartic. Blasting some music and belting it out can really relieve stress. It’s one of the first urges I get when I’m pissed off or upset. I also know I have no control.

Something you all might not know about me though, is that I have a massive insecurity about my voice and a huge fear of performing. Doesn’t matter what it is, or how well I know I can do it. People love my writing, but have someone stand over me while I’m writing or ask me to read said writing and I will run away. There is this picture of my twin and I when we were about five. In this picture we are backstage at a pageant or talent show or something (we were adorable if I do say so myself). In this picture I am crying hysterically while my twin hugs me and gives me a kiss to make me feel better. Apparently my theory of mind had kicked in and I realized that I was going out in front of a big crowd of strangers to do something. It was terrifying. I have been seriously and chronically stage fright since. Even when I know I can do it perfectly, and was perfectly calm beforehand, the thought of performing is painful.

I’ve figured a few reasons why. First, that initial realization that performance is scary when I was five has stuck. I’ve always been a touch shy, being strongly introverted only made it more likely that I wasn’t one to enjoy being the spotlight. I don’t need or like extra attention in the form of more than ten people paying me any mind at once. I am not a performer in the sense that I perform for others. I perform for myself. As an added bonus I’m just sensitive. I’m easily overwhelmed by stimuli, both internal and external, and adrenaline rushes are the bane of my existence. I hate getting them, it’s like using a nebulizer. It is pleasant and fun for some people, but not me. I don’t want any part of that crazy train. This is why I dislike roller coasters and don’t go on many rides at theme parks. I know, I’m boring, but so what? If you need a well written essay or a long hug or someone to get the snacks after the ride, I’m your girl. This is why I crochet, or do photography or write, this is why I play mostly solitary video games or don’t play video games at all. Low stimulation, from inside and out, with the ability to have others join me if I so choose. Seriously, my idea of a good time is having all my friends in the house at once, entertaining each other while I bask in their noise in the corner chair with a book or something.

Second, I realized that I have an innate fear of my own voice. People have been very critical of my singing before. Some were purposely being mean or nasty, others (like my family) were trying to be helpful, but keep overlooking how intensely sensitive and emotional I am. To be fair, they usually try very hard to be aware of that, but teasing is still something I get defensive about. As such, I’m typically very self-conscious about my voice and my very imperfect control over it. My range has changed since I last had voice coaching (that would be middle school, so, something like 10 years ago) and I’m not really sure where it is. I’m still a soprano, but my voice does reach down into alto a little so it can be hard for me to modulate my pitch. As a bonus, the fun of breath control as an asthmatic. I’m afraid of messing up, and of butchering a song. I can’t even sing loudly in the shower without worry.

Third, is this fear of being loud. I don’t like when I have to be loud. If niggas is actin stupid and I gotta get loud I get upset about having to shout or get angry. Believe me, I will shout you down the street if I have to, but I don’t like doing it, nor do I do so regularly. Even when I’m hanging with my friends, I’m only loud because they’re loud and humans naturally modify their behavior to match their group. So, singing loudly is hard for me. Not only because I’m sensitive to criticism and fear butchering a song, but because being loud isn’t particularly appealing to me. It smacks too much of performance. Of course, one cannot properly sing if one does not project, but given my other worries it makes sense. Not to mention I’ve had plenty of times where I’ve been told to quiet down. Badly practicing an instrument to get better is more acceptable than badly singing to get better.

Yet, I truly love to sing. It’s quite a dilemma. I also find myself wishing for more songs I could sing in devotion. I write poetry, but I’m not much for song writing. A friend told me it’s just poetry set to music, but I beg to differ. There’s a different structure to poetry compared to songs. While they are certainly related, I would say no more than close cousins, maybe siblings or half-siblings. At least, that’s how I was taught. Not to mention, I’m not much for puzzling out music and rhythms for music. I need more practice.

Christmas Songs

Yes, I’m aware that I’m extremely late. I was inspired by a thing I saw on Facebook that had rewritten Christmas songs. They were Wicca flavored and it inspired me to make ones that were Kemetic flavored. Each song has in parentheses the song it was based on so that you can sing them easily. As long as you attribute their creation to me and do not change the lyrics without permission you may use them freely.

These lyrics are copyright to Rachael Jetter, aka Aine Rayne, owner of Finding the Secret Places. Please do not alter, copy in part or in whole without attribution, or sell without express written permission of the owner.

O Come, O Come, the Lord of the Knife(O Come, O Come, Emmanuel)

O Come, O Come the Lord of the Knife,
And lead me through the Cavern of the Night.
Full of strife and demons untold,
Guide me to Ra’s barque of gold!
R: Dua! Dua! Lord of Ma’at,
I seek your strength in light and dark!
O come, Lord of the Secret Place
And grant to me your wisdom and grace;
Make my body whole and pure,
That I may lie among the stars.
Refrain
O come, O come, the Son of Ra,
Who watches o’er the Scales of Ma’at
And crushes foes both near and far
That Ra may travel safely in His barque!
Refrain
O come, He Who Prepares the End
And brings Calamity on isfet!
Let none who we call Enemies
Against us in evil succeed.
Refrain
O come, Lord of the Pavilion
And wrap me in purest linen.
Guide me through the Duat
And make my heart light as ma’at.
Refrain

Hark! Nut, the Goddess Sings (Hark! The Herald Angels Sing)

1. Hark! Nut, the goddess sings;
“Glory to the new-born King;
Strength to Ra and shining skies,
Isfet’s defeat; Apep’s demise.
2. Joyful, all Egypt, arise.
Join the triumph of the Eyes.
With the goddesses proclaim,
“Heru is born and Osiris reigns!”
Hark! Nut, the goddess sings,
Glory to the new-born King.

Away in the Duat (Away in a Manger)

1. Away in the Duat, your heart in His hand,
The great god Anpu guides you through the Land.
The 42 gods look down upon you,
Anpu will fill your heart full of Truth.
2. The scales are not tipping, He’s balanced Them true
Djehuty testifies greatly for you.
Sing praise to Anpu, the Lord of the Knife,
Give gifts to Him who is Lord of Life.
3. Be near Lord of Heaven and King of the Gates,
Allow me to come to your Secret Place!
Lord of the Pavilion and Great in His Strength,
Bless me as I travel to the West!

Sekhmet We Have Heard on High (Angels We Have Heard on High)

Sekhmet we have heard on high
Roaring o’er the arid plains
And the sand dunes in reply
Uphold Her holy right to reign.
CHORUS:
Gloria, in excelsis Deae!
Gloria, in excelsis Deae!
People, why this fear in thee?
Why is all your faith so gone?
To whom do you praise and sing,
But a fearsome Eye of Ra!
Chorus
Come to Men Nefer and see
She who destroys enemies;
Come, with water and with meat,
For Sekhmet, the Desert Queen!
Chorus

Calm and Collected, but Still a Little Lost

It’s a Feeling the Music Post! I have a playlist of music dedicated to Anpu that I listen to frequently. It’s a collection of music that make me think of Him, though Set has claimed some songs from it. It’s cool, lucky for Him Anpu likes sharing, usually XD I’m not thinking of anything particularly now, and I’m feeling pretty calm and chill, especially since I’ve got the house to myself for the time being. A particular song was playing and it’s just like, for some reason, even though the song is a little sad, it fits. It’s not that I feel sad, it’s that the lyrics are a little…strange. They are not quite lamenting and not quite self-encouraging. Listen to the song and see.

I’ve never found the song to be negative. What does it evoke in you?

It’s a Feeling the Music post

I’m gonna add a new category of posts. When I can’t or don’t feel like writing what’s really bothering me because I would rather talk about it or don’t have the words for it or too angry/upset or whatever I’m gonna grab music and post them. Lyrics and videos (or videos with lyrics) and maybe some keywords or something. Here’s my first post of my new category: Feeling the Music

Keywords: rage, parents, frustration, venting, feeling disrespect

Dreams, Music, Plants, and Writing

So, today I got up “early” for Saturday. Ten am basically. This doesn’t seem much of an announcement except for one thing: I’ve been in and out of sleep since five pm Friday evening. I’ve been sleep-deprived all week and the week before, but still, kinda ridiculous even for me. I’m sure I dreamt a lot, but I only remember another scene of cleaning a bathroom that wasn’t mine as if it was mine. In fact, it was the same bathroom as the last dream I posted (did I post it? can’t remember lol) Just in case I didn’t, I’ll hash it out for you.

A few days ago, before I was to go see an apartment with TB, I dreamt about being in an apartment. The main thing I saw was the bathroom. I was cleaning it, which is only unusual if you don’t consider that it’s my favorite room to clean. I will gladly clean a bathroom before I do laundry, just sayin. Now, truth be told the bathroom IRL was due to be cleaned, but it wasn’t Gm’s bathroom in the dream. In fact, it wasn’t anyone’s bathroom that I’ve been in or cleaned. That’s how it started.

There were other people there, in other rooms. I believe they were moving things around. For the most part I was in this bathroom with people coming to the door to ask me questions or show me something. I’m not entirely sure who all was there, but it actually didn’t really matter. I remember seeing only two faces clearly, TB and a woman who I don’t recognize. It could be my mom, but the expression isn’t one she normally gives. Hell, it could be me honestly, I dream a lot in third person. But, that would actually confuse things since I was also talking to this person. I feel like maybe it was part of me or something. I honestly don’t know.

Anyway, lots of stuff that I’m not actually seeing going on, at one point I’m in this hallway looking at TB who is standing by a staircase. The house is dark, there’s only one light on, in the dining room where he’s standing. Everything about this house is dark, the stairs and floor are hardwood, the windows are curtained and the walls are a light color. It’s not gloomy though, I’ve been in several houses with this sort of lighting because of funky window configuration. They’re rarely gloomy, just dim, and there’s always been something ok about it. Comforting and relaxing, though annoying when trying to read. They’re the sort of houses that don’t suffer when there’s a lot of light, be it from lamps or the sun, and don’t shut down into depressing or gloomy when there isn’t.

Either way, TB is standing by these steps and I’m in the living room facing him and talking to him. The house, now that I think of it, does vaguely remind me of two family member’s houses, but that bathroom throws it off, as does the distinct feeling through this dream that it is not anyone’s house except mine and when I say mine I mean belonging to TB and me. There’s no doubt that it was ours, the other people there were of no consequence and were simply helping us get it together and set up to live in. I also had the vague feeling that it was an apartment, which makes me think possibly a duplex or something. I don’t know, I don’t think it matters. He was talking about something that needed to be done, as well as updating me on progress about something else. He was angry, but not at me, apparently there were things that other people were supposed to be handling that they weren’t doing and he couldn’t get them moving.

Nonetheless, that anger was expressing itself in our discussion and we got into a disagreement about how something he was asking of me should be handled. I don’t remember what it was that was so important, it was something that had to do with the bathroom or something of similar importance. It got to the point where he was just like “look, I have other things to handle with this so just please do this for me. I don’t care how it’s done as long as it’s done.” On that we agreed and I went to do whatever it was though the next scene was the bathroom again.

This time though, I had a hand vacuum. Now, I’ve used a vacuum cleaning the bathroom before (I have a lot of hair on my head, which consequently means a lot on the floor, sweeping isn’t exactly the most efficient choice lol) but this was kinda abnormal. I was vacuuming like, a scrub brush (which I don’t use) and like mechanical parts inside the tub. Yup, took a small panel off and some gears and shit out and was vacuuming them. I don’t know for what purpose other than to clean it. Finally it changes one last time, to being in the living room with TB again. This time there’s a black woman I don’t know there, she’s large and wearing brightly colored clothes reminiscent of a daishiki was there. She was pacing back and forth muttering about finding something. She couldn’t find her gift for us and wanted to give us a little money as well. She found the money and gave it to us, saying it was for lunch or breakfast and left. Then I woke up.

Now, I posted this because I dreamt about cleaning that bathroom again this morning, but I don’t remember anything else though I’m sure there’s more. I dunno, it seems whatever that stands for is important in some way. Today was also a day I was thinking about music a lot. My love of it, my favorite ones, how it influences me. My mother doesn’t necessarily care for my music of choice, she thinks many of the songs she’s heard are depressing and has commented before about how the music she listened to when she was young made her feel worse. But of course, where she hears depression I hear liberation. Ask any rock music fan, anyone who listens to Evanescence like I do, Flyleaf, Linkin Park (frequent fliers on my IPod), Lynyrd Skynyrd, KoRn, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, I could poll my friends and come up with a massive assortment. They do not hear depression, but release, comfort, understanding. I hear it too, I’ve heard it since high school, tenth grade. When I first heard anything besides suck ass rap and love-saturated R&B, Christian rock and flowing songs, oldies, 80’s and all that jazz it was amazing, beautiful. I never knew such things existed, I’d always been blocked, secretly forbidden, and then a friend came along and had me listen.

Evanescence is my main music drug of choice. Amy’s voice is beautiful, a blasting of emotion into a rough fabric of song, twisting your mind with it until you feel what she feels and it’s like she feels you. Isn’t that how music should be? Some may hear loud noise and incoherent or even destructive lyrics, but no, it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful. This music bangs out the darkness on paper, blares the deepest until the air is saturated with what you feel and what they feel. Almost makes you wish you could write music doesn’t it? Makes you want to reach out and touch those places that bring pain and suffering and relief and release?

Ah look at me waxing poetic. It’s about time, I’ve lost touch with that inner muse that creates poetry. It was my first love in writing you know. The most infamous piece of writing I ever created was called “The World is Like a Cup of Rice”. It was about being poor and rich and different and the same in the world. When I first wrote it some fifteen years ago, someone asked me why the rich people were white rice and the poor people were brown rice. I think, if I recall correctly, that my answer was that both rices are good for you but brown rice was supposed to be a little healthier. I can’t remember if someone said anything about that. I do remember that I lost it a couple days later and was besides myself. It still makes me sad to think of it. I think the gods took it lol I remember that about seven more incarnations came into being because of trying to recapture it. Sure I’d come up with little stories and epic adventures, but they were certainly not written. And they were usually in the context of me and Sister playing games together (ah, Ducks, Chickens, Spiders, Dogs and People XD).

As such, I’ve recently decided that I was going to get back into my writing. Not just my story making, but my poetry. That which connects to the side of me that likes to rhyme and likes to patch words together into beautiful rhythms. The part of my soul and mind that takes the heart of what it sees and tries to weave it into words, tries to capture a hint of what it is and was and wants to be. The part that swims in words and basks in the light of inspiration.

Maybe I could ask my plants for inspiration. Gm bought a new plant today, a big healthy Philodendron that we’ve named Dennis. No, his name will not be Phil, it is too obvious and cliché. I was the one who brought him in the house too. I picked up his bucket and told him “welcome to the house of the plant lovers.” He got nervous as I took him up the front steps, but we passed the front yard plants. Now, I’ll be honest, we don’t tend them like we used to, but we do love them and they often put on a show when I go out to take pictures of how beautiful they are. We still love the plants, even if we don’t get in the garden and play in the dirt with them. I think they gave us good props, because he relaxed when we got in the house. There are more houseplants in there, mainly in the kitchen where I sat him at first while I moved a small table that he’ll sit on.

Dennis is still nervous, he’s in a new house with a dog and a baby and ghosts and other plants and people he’s never seen. The other plants may be nice and tell him good things, but the point remains that he’s still in unfamiliar surroundings. I don’t know how to put him at ease, unfortunately there seems to be very little or very hidden information on working with plants and plant spirits and Overspirits. I also hope to take a piece of him with me when I eventually move out. I think we could get along.

I’m also hoping my other plants will be ok. My basil is suffering this year, but I’m not sure from what, the fact that gnats are pestering it probably isn’t helping. However, my oregano and lavender are doing well. The lavender is still small and probably will be for a while. I’ll likely need bigger pots for all the petite plants, but now I’m just hoping they last through the winter. I want to plant them outside next spring. I also have decided that I want a Venus Fly Trap. Yup, just gonna leave you boggling on that bit of silliness. I plan to get one next spring lol Back to the current houseplants, if I can figure a way to stop the gnats then I’ll bring them all downstairs to hang with Dennis. I think I’ll name the others too, just for kicks XD

Let’s see, Lou and Chassie for the Lavender, Otis and Henrietta for the Basil and Oregano. I find my astral self hearing laughter and snickering XD to be fair, I’d laugh at me too lol