Pretty Voices in the Night

No, I'm not talking about the pretty "voices" some people have heard in the night.

I'm just editing the songlist in the middle of the night.

Seems that I do a lot of things online in the middle of the night these days. A lot of people fear the night, but the night's my own personal hideaway. I like the night, the way everything is quiet, cool, dark, mysterious. It's like the tall dark stranger every romance heroine cannot resist. It's not good for my health, I know, but I can't help it. Everything looks better at night -- the streetlights, the strobe lights, the moonlight. It throws a lonely light onto everything on earth, and reminds you that we are, at the most basic level, alone in life.

Well, except for the mosquitoes that seems intent on feasting on me. Shoo!

I don't know about you, but Day and Night has always seem like real people, people around me. People you see everyday, by the bus station, the school, the roadside. It's like they have their own personalities, and just like the people in your life, there are some you can't live without, some you can't forget, and some who you seek out in different moods.

Night and Day

To me, Day has always been that overly optimistic friend, always enthusiastic, bubbling with energy no matter what time you see her. Day's always jumping up and down calling for your attention with this game or that task. She pulls you out of bed to that shop with the dress she'd set her eyes on, she pulls you to the computer and starts nagging at you to finish your work. Day's the fun friend that gets you through life, that helps you get things done.

But Night? Night's the silent brooding guy, like Darcy, or even Snape, for that matter. He's quiet most of the time, the best listener you can ask for. Sometimes he offers unexpected opinions, helps you figure out your worries, those tangles in the roots that trips you constantly. But Night, he's always so...intense that sometimes just being with him makes you a bit melancholic. It's with him that you begin to think. All those moments you missed out on, the people that you try to bury, the feelings you forget when you're with Day. They all come back in Night's silent reminder. Night's the one who gives you calm, and still makes you face what you don't want to, and sometimes--if you're looking closely enough--he reminds you of the more important things in life. He's steadfast, steady, silent, introspective.

And those beautiful voices?

 I'd grown up around parents who worshipped music and I can't be more thankful for that. (How else would I be so impossibly tangled in those notes and clefs and guitars that are too big for me?) I'd grown up listening to Rod Stewart, Beatles, Celine Dion, Air Supply, Andrea Bocelli; Mozart plays me to sleep, Beethoven angers me, Brahms calms me. And as I grow older and gets stuck in the constantly changing billboards, I became entranced with Bieber (yes, I do like him. His Baby is damningly hard to get out of my head), Adele, Maroon 5. And then came the Youtube Cover singers who rearranged all those songs I like, and made me love them more.

I'd grown up in a large mixing pot of music that I absorb almost any genres of music like a sponge takes to water. And as a consequence, I'd been exposed to so many beautiful voices I can hardly list them all in one night.

Who you are right now depends on who you were then. I guess I grew up on a  vinyl record player. =P

And tonight, as I rack my brains for songs to listen to, my fingers went on autopilot and started keying in songs of my childhood. Oldies. The nineties. The eighties. The seventies. All those voices came rushing back to me through these headphones that keeps slipping away from my head. (Have I mention my abnormally large head? Headphones really really hate my head.)

And I realise how few beautiful voices we have now compared to the past. I mean, Louis Armstrong's rendition of What A Wonderful World is incomparable. His voice is so unique I cannot listen to any other renditions of that song without his voice automatically playing in my head. Celine Dion sure has a pair of awe-inspiring lungs on her. Listening to her belt out All By Myself brings me back to days where I would laze around fiddling with Lego blocks while her CD replays on the HiFi set.

And Andrea? His voice makes me go all gooey inside, like a soothing balm on burnt skin.

Those days. Those sweet, doing nothing days. Oh why did I have to grow up?

But that doesn't mean there aren't any good singers nowadays. Christina Perri with her Thousand Years, Jason Mraz with his I'm Yours, Iron and Wine's Flightless Bird, Ed Sheeran with his Lego House... They make me want to just dive into their world and never resurface. I could spend days just lounging on my bed, eyes closed, and get lost in their worlds while these songs play and play and play.


I do still wish I had days like those. Perhaps after the exams.

How much I hope days were 48-hour long instead of the standard 24.

Songs in the night. Makes you all melancholic and nostalgic.

Ahhhh, I miss home. I miss the freedom to  sleep and wake anytime I want, waking up to familiar warmth, to familiar faces. I miss spontaneous hugs and banters, those dinner chortles, and the usual haggling over who gets to do which chores. I miss curling up against the sofa watching movies, and cuddling up to my sister who keeps pushing me away. I miss having lots and lots of food anytime I want.

"Home is where you are. Wherever you are. Wherever we are."

Reading Moment of Impact (Harry Potter fanfic -- long story, for another time) really has made an impact on me. It really gets you thinking of your priorities, the responsibilities, and the simple pleasures in life.

And right now?

I miss home--my simple, steadfast, unchanging comfort.

But I'm not home, so perhaps I should be contented with this temporary home. After all, home is where the heart is, and me? I suppose my heart is with me right now, right here.