Emotions

You know, sometimes things happen in the strangest ways. My father and I don't talk much. I think part of the reason we don't is that I don't much like men (more about that later). But yesterday, he and I were sitting together for the first time in a long time, and there was a program about musical interpretation on the television. I started to think about this album which I bought a couple of weeks ago (At Sixes and Sevens by Sirenia). It's a juxtaposition of growling vocals and a female soprano. I said to him that it wasn't so much the notes that I valued in a piece of music, but the quality of the sound. By 'quality', I mean what most people would call the timbre of voices and instruments. I said that I really loved the juxtaposition between crystal and tree bark in the album. He squinted sideways at me and went 'did you just say crystal and tree bark?' I was pretty stunned, so I just nodded.

I can't rationalize things the way most people can. I feel emotion in senses the same way some people feel in colours. I don't feel happy or unhappy. I feel the waves, I feel stone, I feel crystal, I feel humid air, I feel the smell of rainforests, I feel fire, I feel heat. Usually when it comes to having to describe things I just shut up, because it makes me sound like an idiot to most people. But after I nodded, my father looked me in the eye and said 'do you know, Anna, I feel in colours?' I took a moment to recover, and then I said 'this feels to me like a cool breeze on my face.' He nodded. 'To me, it feels blue. Blue is when things start to make sense. Blue is when I'm relaxed and I feel content with things. I've been alive a lot longer than you have, and eventually, you'll be able to match up the feeling with the word for the emotion. It took me a long time.' I nodded. 'I think the Midlands was so good for me because I was finally able to really feel so many emotions. I wasn't scared of what people would think.' He smiled. 'Yellow is scared. Yellow is when I don't know what to do.' I almost laughed. The conversation was getting crazy, and I'd never expected to be talking about this with my father. 'For me, scared is a reflection in water. Scared is when things ripple. There are some that I don't have the words for yet, like humid air and running barefoot along sand. But I guess I'll work it out eventually.' He stood up and brushed my forehead. 'You will, Anna-mou. I have faith in you. And I should be getting to bed. I have to get out at 5 am tomorrow.'

I never knew that my father felt in colours. I wonder if it's genetic? Some of the other things we share are. But more about that later. I need to get to bed. Good night, blog world!