As I Listen to Evanessence

What is it about the music of Evanessence that I love so much?


Actually, I listen to a variety of music, ranging from classical to gothic/metal. But among the many different kinds of musicians I have grown to love, none of them stirs me as much as Evanessence does. Maybe it's because the emotions and intensity of the songs fit me perfectly. Or probably it is the haunting atmosphere surrounding the angst and melancholy cloaked in the poetic lyrics that has drawn me to it. And then again, it could be all these qualities put together that made Evanessence's music a staple in my life(I've been listening to them almost every day for almost half a year now).
Right now, as I listen to Evanessence's "Bring Me to Life" for the third time, I am trying desperately to come up with something substantial to write about. I have a good feeling I would only hit a dead end and still come up with nothing particularly amusing, let alone relevant. Having been up the entire evening, working myself to death as usual, I am surprised that I am not drained. If my assessment is correct, I still have more than enough energy to last me until way past lunch time. Until then, I am confident that I could still fit in loading pics of Poobah(my cute teddy bear who represents me), and a few of my latest finished works.
Up to now, I'm still a dunce when it comes to technology. When Papa bought me and my brother a computer  complete with all the needed art software artists use these days, my reaction, although grateful still, was nothing more than the typical amusement I express lethargically over a slice of raisin bread which I used to snack on every other day. My brother, however, was ecstatic. So when my brother suggested that the computer along with the scanner and printer be placed in his room instead of the small studio we share, I did not do so much as utter the slightest protest. In fact, it hardly mattered to me where they put it. Simply put, I was not the least bit interested in it.

As my brother immersed himself for nights on end learning to manipulate Photoshop and other related art software, I clung to the traditional way of expression I knew by heart:painting and writing by hand. Several times, he tried to teach me. I forced myself to pay attention, but halfway through his droning lectures, my mind  began to drift into the depths of my subconscious that it wasn't long before my eyelids dropped and I was already happily trotting en route to dreamland. Needless to mention, my brother was pissed at me. So pissed was he, that after a few attempts to educate me about technology, he finally gave up and left me to my own devices.
Like me, my brother is an artist too. As children, we had sunk into the habit of drawing together, only breaking the silence every once in a while to socialize with each other by bickering and squabbling over the least important of things. After graduating from college, we went our separate ways and pursued a career in the arts.
As expected, my brother has become very adept with using technological art tools whereas I have become a better writer and artist in terms of style and creativity. But with the continuous dependence of modern society on computers, I feel left out and stupid. It's like I am watching the city rise all around me as I remain locked in my room, unmoving and not developing in time with the conspicuous change that is transforming everything I see.


What I would give to go back in time and change the past!


But it is not yet too late, is it? Although the memory of how I enthusiastically participated in my brother's lectures more than a decade ago stays fresh in his mind, he has agreed to teach me again. And this time, I promised to him and myself that I would be very attentive. It is about time that I get into the flow of things. I am not getting any younger.
I am no longer afraid that my ability for painting manually would be stifled should I learn technology. Art is forever a part of me. There is no way I would devolve if I persist in exploring and executing the images in my head, albeit through modern means.