I spent all day in bed listening to music and writing (which is not as bad as it sounds; there's literally no where else to sit in the whole house except my desk and the piano bench--it's all the piano studio, which is why I usually go to Borders--but I'm trying to save money).
And this is crazy. I didn't go downstairs to eat until about 5 because I didn't want to take my headphones off and stop hearing music. (I've just emerged from a LONG dry spell when it comes to listening. And I'm not good at listening and doing something else. If I'm listening to music, I'm listening to music.)
A voice can totally turn me on. If you go here and listen to the first free track, he talks in Spanish. I have absolutely no idea what he's saying, but man does he have a voice that makes me melt.
Listening to Mana got me thinking about ethnic identity. I'm a mutt, of course. My father who was not biologically related to me was French; biologically I'm mostly German and Native American and West Virginian (well, isn't that an ethnicity, LOL?!) My non-birth mother is biologically related to me, so I've known that part of the family, but aside from the West Virginian thing, they weren't particularly ethnic, and even then it was more accidental than pride.
Anyway, after my dad died, my mother married into an Italian family. Growing up in an Italian family (I imagine in any ethnic family) forms part of your identity. (Talk about burying your lead!)
It's something that's always there; like if you go to a strange new town, you're automatically part of the group, you know? There's some elemental relationship that is there, some automatic connection.
Like, when I went off to college, my stepfather went up and got me settled into Little Italy. I was given a job and an apartment that very day in the neighborhood, and my stepfather was promised everyone would look out for me.
But I'm a mutt. So once I was out in the real world without the family name or Italian looks, I was suddenly no longer Italian. It's a bit strange, because you go to a party and all the Italians are grouped together and you feel like you belong there but... to them, you're not Italian.
Of course, they're friendly and stuff, but they don't relate to you in... that way. I can't quite explain the difference, but it's there, and it's both subtle and big.
When that connection isn't there, when that part of your identity is no longer there, it feels weird. I kinda miss it sometimes.
That probably sounds strange.
I was also adopted, so I'm told (and agree) that it's just part of it to always feel a little bit alone. This isn't an identity crisis, LOL. I'm not sure why I'm on this tangent today.
It makes me wonder: as Americans, do we have an ethnic identity?
It's one reason why I miss DH so much. He's my one touchstone, my one sort of always-there foundation. My best friend is like that, too, but it's different, too.
To be part of a family but not quite or not really can be weird. Unless I can make my own, I suppose it will be the story of my life. I wish DH was here, though.
I need to find a way to hook my computer up to some good speakers. This is Mana singing Rayando el Sol, which seems to suit my mood perfectly today. I haven't the slightest clue what the lyrics mean, LOL. I could be listening to a song talking about happy birds and thinking it's melancholy! Do you know what it means?