Born and Raised

“Music us the only thing that makes sense anymore. Play it loud enough and it keeps the demons at bay.” -Across the Universe

untry music soothes my soul. I enjoy old school rock and hip-hop (real hip-hop) as well but they aren’t the focus of this post, so though i love them, i won’t talk about them in this post.

Country music is what i was raised on so it’s what i know best.

Mom didn’t care for it, but Dad loved it. It was always playing in his truck (well, that or WOWO). He liked the greats: Johnny Cash, George Jones, Conway Twitty, and, on tbe rare day, Willie Nelson. There was something tbat lit up for Dad when a classic country tune came on the radio. I didn’t get it when i was a kid. I just thought it was some great music and Dad liked it. Well, that was (and is) true, but i think there was more to it than that for him. I think that because there is more to it that for me.

Music in (almost) any genre is meant to speak to the soul of its listeners. Country tells a story. Yeah, it might have a twang and a two-step beat and may sound a little backwards and hick, but it’s real. For me it is as real as it gets. It talks of love and loss. It tells the story of lost love and deep sacrifice. Best of all, for me, it sounds like home.

I was born and raised in the country. The campfires and weekend parties those talk about, yeah, i understand those. Swimming in ponds and off roading in 4-wheel drives, i’ve done that. I’ve loved and i have lost and i’ve loved again…. i get it.

Don’t hate on me for loving country and i won’t hate on you for what you like. Deal?


Real or Not Real?

What is real?

Im not sure how i feek about this question anymore. I used to know. Now, not so much. I think it is because i used to be more sure of who am i and where im going. Now… not so much.

In Mockingjay there is a section of the book where Peeta must learn the difference between fact and fiction. He and Katniss develop a game. He says a statement and she tells him whether what he remembers is fact or fiction. Real or not real.

In the book, i liked the game. In the book, it is the perfect game. In life…reality….it doesn’t work.

I feel like Peeta sometimes. Asking those around me “Real or not real?”

Im 25 years old? Real or not real?
I always wanted to work for a magazine. Real or not real?
My parents taught me right from wrong? Real or not real?
I don’t care for children. Real or not real?
God has a plan for me. Real or not real?
I’m following it. Real or not real?
People can change. Real or not real?
I’m not defined by my circumstances. Real or not real?
My choices are my own. Real or not real?
Pain is weakness leaving the body. Real or not real?
I can make a difference. Real or not real
This list could go on and on…

People answer as best they can, but how can they answer that question for me.

Recently i had a conversation with someone very dear to me about her newfound desire for truth. After living, for lack of a better term, a lie for decades, she is desperately and hungrily seeking truth.

Even though our lives have been very different, i cannot help but marvel at how different circumstances have led us to ask the same questions, but for different reasons. My reasons are legit. Real or not real?

What is real? What is not real? I desperately wish i knew, but i’m scared to find out.