Sometimes music can say so much more than words. Late night improvisation in remembrance of my father.

Written and Recorded (in my kitchen) – August 29, 2009.

Waiting, Waiting

Waiting, waiting, for words to come,
In the darkness, there are none.

I love music. I grew up writing my own little melodies at the piano when I was seven or eight years old. I later studied theory and composition at university and even tested out of 1st semester theory because I had taught myself so much on my own. And until recently I composed music for music libraries and still receive an occasional royalty check (thank you very much, PBS). But I’ve never been one to mix music with business. Not that I don’t mind making money selling music, it’s not that at all. I just don’t want to have to do it.

But for reasons I can’t even explain, I quit composing. I quit playing. I even quit listening to music. For some reason the joy was gone and I lost myself. Today, after reading the following quote, I realized just how much I had actually lost:

“The object of art is not to make salable pictures. It is to save yourself.” ~Sherwood Anderson

So today I listened to music I once loved. I let it touch the depths of my soul, the part that I thought I had closed off forever. I felt it with a power I couldn’t imagine. And now, I feel that I have truly saved myself. I’ve come to realize that music is an essential part of my being.

One of the composers I listened to today was Yann Tiersen (specifically, the soundtrack to the movie Amelie). Hearing that soundtrack again for the first time in ages, I was reminded of a short piece I wrote several years ago. Maybe you can hear it (or maybe you can’t), but I use music to express feelings that I can’t begin to express with words.

I can’t guarantee I’ll compose again anytime soon, but at least now I feel that I can do it. And more importantly, I want to.

Le Départ by My Aspie Life (2007)

I never make New Year’s resolutions – ever. They just seem pointless and silly (then again, maybe that’s part of the fun). But sometimes I do feel a need to grab onto the feeling of hope that comes with the freshness of a new year. And so here it is, 2013, and I’m going to try something new. This year I’m going to start a series of posts pertaining to something I know best…and paradoxically…something I know least. Me.

So hang onto your seats (not literally, of course) for it’s no holds barred. I want it to be entertaining and enlightening. It may be a train wreck or it may be smooth sailing (and it’s most likely to be both). Either way, I hope you enjoy reading about “My Aspie Life.”


The delicate sound of soft summer rain
Tapping ever so gently upon my window pane;
The beat of the cadence, the whirr of the wind,
Lulls me to sleep – once more and again.

A hug is like a bandage to a hurting wound

A hug is like a bandage to a hurting wound

I came across this sculpture today (in a bank, of all places). It fit my mood so I took the picture you see here. The artist is uncredited as far as I can tell.

One Fleeting Moment

For one fleeting moment I forgot
That I was alone and you were not;
That my world ends where your world starts,
And both our worlds were miles apart.

But one fleeting moment was all I got
Before what could, became what could not.
A moment I’d hoped that would linger on
Flashed by in an instant and then it was gone.