So, with some cajoling and a pinch of inspiration, here I am. Writing. Typing. Whatever. With some good ol' Biffy Clyro in the background. Man, this stuff is good.Well, so were the numerous spoonfuls of Nutella I doled into my mouth these holidays. Or the Belgian Waffles and ice- cream duo or all those pies and cheesecakes and rocky roads and whatnot...I'll shut up about the food now.
You know how many books I read these holidays? Approximately 3. I haven't even finished a few, so assuming I read half of a couple of these books I'm summing them up to 3. 3 books. I scoff at this. I used to read 30, 50 come summer bliss while managing to smack tennis balls amidst the dusty, humid Chennai heat on a mud based tennis court. Now, I lock myself inside my room and stay cooped up in my bed, being alone. I'm starting to get annoyed at the concept of company.
Oh, well.
Chyeh. Anyways, this one book that piqued my interest considerably is called 'Where Underpants come from'. See, Joe Bennett recently bought a pack of underpants from a department store in New Zealand and wished to trace the life of these particular pair of underpants back to the roots of its existence. And he does so with colorful detail, accompanied with a laughter inducing soundtrack. ANYWAY, Joe Bennett embarks on a voyage to China to find out how his underpants were made. Bennett discusses the political situation, the corruption surrounding the methods of work that Chinese workers undergo.
Corruption is evidently inevitable in every country that you come across. There is always going to be a bribe, always a scandalous act in light of politics, there will aways be a 'mistake'. We are only human, after all. We are fundamentally flawed. Oh, what tangled webs we weave.
So, we know where underpants come from. Where do we come from? Oh, of course, what a wrongly phrased questions. I should mean, where does what makes us US come from? Friends? Music? Our past?
I should think that I am my most soulful when I am encased in my record filled world. Yeeeeah sure, my past has made me stronger. Its how i am able to walk into school and trust no one.
But, see if I was to walk into school without my iPod, I wouldn't be okay. Maybe people in school never notice but my toe taps. My head nods. I mouth lyrics. I do little hand movements.
I'm attached.
I can stand in a crowd full of music lovers and feel the love. Like I did in God's tent. Like I did when I walked up a mountainside singing the Lion King soundtrack out loud with my friends. Like I feel at a Switchfoot concert.
Its love.
Its music.
Same thing.
See, it could be Jon Foreman. Or Sigur Ros. It could be Copeland. And I could feel happy.
Music is this integral part of our lives. We live it, we breathe it, some people reject it, others embrace it but you can never escape it. I was watching Switchfoot's live at Ventura DVD. Seeing Switchfoot live, or on a DVD- man, its gets me. It gets me into this trance where I sway back and forth and start singing without knowing it. I smile the whole time- its reflex, I swear!
We all have a band. A musician. And for me, its Switchfoot. I just get caught up in the emotions conveyed through their songs, to me its about living and grace and love. I think they represent me,emotions and love music wise but completely hyperactive and loud otherwise. Chyeh. Talk about me.
I think I've found out what my Underpants are made of and I didn't need any trip to China to find out.
So, enlighten me, what are yours made of?
