Posted: Sunday, August 12, 2012 9:00:07 PM
I drum my fingers on my wooden desk, watching the bouncing iTunes icon on the side of my computer screen. Sighing, I graze my fingers over the mouse pad and click on the small blue circle encircling the two eighth notes.
I knew it. It was always the same message: “A new version of iTunes (10.6.3) is available. Would you like to download it now?” My answer never changes either: No, I do not wish to download a new version.
My cursor flickers towards the small red button on the left-hand corner of the window, and then, I freeze. My fingers twitch, itching to close out, but my heart speaks differently. I relent, stay on this window, and simply stare. Frowning, I realize that the gears in my head need some oiling. I just couldn’t understand why I needed and wanted iTunes open at that moment. I stand up, feel like I just got electrified, and crash back down. It hit me. I longed for boldness, craved for strength, and desperately needed some soul music. Beyonce’s "Listen" was the one.
The first time I heard "Listen" was in Dream Girls. I was only 9 years old, and I remember nothing from that musical except this song. I didn’t know the lyrics nor did I have the brightness to look them up. So how did a child who rarely listened to the radio, who never looked at the Billboard charts, and who didn’t have a single care for any music other than her K-pop, remember this song throughout the 6 years that had passed? I’ll tell you why; it was because of the floods of water and salt that splashed onto her small hands as the music played.
I do not remember shedding any tears for any song besides "Listen." I can be at Disneyland, but if I hear the opening verses, my shoulders will shake, my nose will turn pink, and I will bawl my eyes out.
This iTunes incident happened a short while ago, while I was under extreme stress. After I entered high school, everyone began to push me to decide what I wanted to do with my life. Of course, I knew who I wanted to become, but nobody in my life supported that, so I was scared to even mention it anymore. I needed something, but I didn't know what. So, I figured that there was nothing to lose and tentatively clicked on "Listen."
I held it in. I held it in with so much strength. But then, I surrendered, fell to my knees, and shook as tears rained down. Three minutes and thirty seconds later, I felt free and liberated. At that moment, it was clear to me. Tears were the medicine. "Listen" was the doctor.
I close my eyes as I type this sentence and her voice glides through my ears: “Oh I'm screaming out, for my dreams to be heard/They will not be pushed aside or worse/Into your own/All cause you won't/ Listen...”