I know the hatred and envy of your hearts. You are not great enough to not know hatred and envy. So be great enough not to be ashamed of them!

—Of War and Warriors, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Ah, back into this again. I wasn’t planning on writing this tonight, but something set me off.

I like how Nietzsche believes that two human “flaws”, which some view as sins no less, should be embraced instead of shunned. Most likely, he’s attacking Christianity, and it’s view of hatred and envy as sins (he goes on to attack other beliefs in sweeping subject dances). Personally, I think that he’s pointing out the fact that humans are, in fact, human, and prone to err. After all, who is good enough to not feel such base emotions, even if only once-in-a-while?

It’s made me realize that sometimes I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I shouldn’t blame myself for feeling a certain way, or having a certain flaw. It doesn’t even matter if painful emotions don’t generate something beneficial, like self-improvement.

Of course, if my base assumption is wrong, then I’m reading too deeply into this. Such things are always a hazard of reading translated material, and all that really matters is whether or not it helps.

It’s taken me this long to realize that the best that one can do is try, not succeed. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to settle for a life without self-improvement, it just means that I should learn to forgive myself before I learn to forgive others.

Because the former has always been harder than the latter.

I could never understand why some songs could make my eyes water.

• Radiohead — Paranoid Android, with its contradictory chords
• Thrice — Artist in the Ambulance, with its repenting, inspirational movements
• Dreamtheater — Disappear, as the harp leads to distortion in a bittersweet explosion
• Billy Talent — Nothing to Lose, with its heartwrenching chorus
• Godspeed, You Black Emperor! — Hungover as the Queen in Maida Vale, right when a single violin interrupts the sermon
• No Motiv — Born Again, when the drums kick in heavy and lead the listener to the present
• Lovage — Anger Management, with its pining soft rock melody
• The Dears — Heartless Romantic, with its thumping, distorted bass hits against the droning organ synth and dual vocals
• Elliot Smith — Waltz #2, with its steady, but heart-breaking tone
• Bad Astronaut — These Days, every time the effusive chorus rushes in
• Strung Out — Match Book, in its entire energetic hopefulness
• Postal Service — The Dream Of Evan And Chan, through all the opening lines
• Misfits — Saturday Night, as soon as the dragging guitars kick in
• Portishead — Undenied, with Beths fragile voice accompanying a simple, distorted loop

For the longest time I had assumed that it was the songs themselves, composed so well with so much pain, that would blur my vision. These songs were sad, and tears were the proper response.

Then I heard something a little different, something that was calming yet lifting. A dreamy song by Modest Mouse called Float On, that filled me with an indescribable satisfaction every time I heard it. And I realized that all these songs, as sad as they are, were making me happy.

So happy that tears are the proper response.

Sometimes, the colour of the sky, the moisture in the air, the smell of the wind, even the briskness of the cold will bring me back to another day. A day that’s indescribable, from an almost forgotten childhood. These are the days that are felt, not remembered, when emotion and mood overpowers action.

The yellow toys of kindergarten. Bliss. The skylight of the Brother Andre library. Warmth. The deafening silence on the hiking trail to Rattlesnake. Humility. The dense spread of stars in the sky from the cottage at Bruce Beach. Complete bewilderment. The rattle of John’s Explorer door when slammed. Comforting familiarity. Waiting for the bus during early spring on the corner of Nadine and Hollingham. Nervousness. Lunches on the bleachers at UCC. Depression. Walking Ashley home, hand-in-hand, on the warm summer nights. Pure contentment. Stepping out of the theatre after a showing of Equus. Buzz.

Every time I’m brought back, I can remember exactly how I felt, but nothing of what I did.

I have one playlist of all the sad songs in my collection. I named it OAC because that was the year I first made the playlist (it has since come to define that time in my life), and it’s grown from 11 songs to over 50.

I lately find myself skipping songs when I listen to that particular playlist, and to me, the entire point of playlists is so that one doesn’t have to skip songs. I’ve started to distinguish between two types of sad emotions, and with this distinction comes the separation of two types of sad songs.

There is the “true sad”, which delves into depression. Songs such as Tindersticks – Trouble Every Day, or Dir En Grey – Mushi are the perfect compliments for such a mood. Then there’s the “hurts-so-good sad”, where there’s barely any sadness at all, but just enough to remind oneself of what one has been through and how far one has come. The beneficial sadness, which does good and not harm. The type of lingering, residual sadness that almost leaves one craving more of the once familiar feeling. And with this beautiful emotion goes songs such as Bad Astronaut – These Days, Portishead – Wondering Star, Red Hot Chili Peppers – Otherside.

I need to make another playlist.

With change comes the need for control.

And with emotions running through me in an almost uncontainable, effusive manner, that need for control has never been more necessary.

Usually, this comes easily. It feels as if I’ve been training my whole life for such a thing, that I’ve spent most of my time working towards becoming a cerebral person. Except that in the past, it’s was to edulcorate the pain.

Now, it’s to control the happiness. The almost ineffable feeling of euphoria.

Sometimes, I can barely contain the surge of emotion, and I have to stop myself from acting out, to keep my mind in check. I refuse to be one who acts out of emotion. I refuse to be one who’s at the whim of whatever mood I’m in.

I will be stronger than that which has become so important to me. I will be in control of that which I’ve sought so long to have.

Because balance is more important than happiness.