One of my earliest memories was a record (yes, a record) that had kids songs on it, including "10 little Indians". It would sing the song first in English, and then repeat the whole thing in Spanish. Even then I was practicing for my trip to Spain...
In Kindergarten I won a 'clean ears award' (Yes, it's stupid) from music class that had a Q-tip with a golden ribbon on it because I could mimic the notes the teacher was singing on a wooden xylophone in longer and longer sequences until I out performed everyone else in the class. I'd have never told her that it was also because I could READ enough already to know the notes that were written on it. Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do were pretty easy to figure out.
In first or second grade our music teacher, Mrs. McClaren, showed us a video of students singing in a large choir in Spanish. The song was called Des Colores, which I became obsessed with. I asked her if I could take a copy of the words home with me, and I sang the song to myself a hundred times until I could never forget it, and still hear the refrain in my head to this day. I didn't understand most of the words... but it wasn't exactly the words that mattered. There was something pleasing about making music itself, about singing along with others who were singing that spoke to me.
There was always music to listen to in the car and I helped my Mom shuffle 8-Tracks around and into the player that ate the damn things more often than it played them... but when it worked, we had a lot of fun. I remember trying soooo hard to hold onto that last note in "I Can't Fight This Feeling" and was rather proud of myself when I could finally do it. My love of country and rock music was born as I went back and forth between Willie Nelson and Credence Clearwater Revival each time I rode with Mom or Dad.
As I got older, I wanted to play instruments and a guitar was at the top of my list. I tried to self-teach myself from the time I was 12. Apparently once I had figured out the chords that appeared most frequently in songs I knew, I was content, because that is where I stopped learning guitar and began singing along with it for a VERY long time. It wasn't until a friend introduced me to Stevie Ray Vaughan that my brain went "What the heck was that!?" It was then that I had to buy my first electric guitar and I have hardly touched an acoustic since.
I'll brush past my few years in band as a trombone player because they were some of the most horrid, pleasing moments I had as a child. Forced to play an instrument that I didn't like, I warred with myself over the fact that I was MAKING music... but it always sounded suspiciously like a whoopie cushion no matter how 'good' I got. I did earn a little pendant award at a county music festival, but it may have been the dawning age of participation awards...
I played keyboard and piano a little bit in highschool, again mostly self-teaching (with a few lessons thrown in) and I didn't get very far before graduation.
I played with my sisters trumpets and flutes until I could play the scale. I played with harmonica's and clarinets and drums and every other thing I could get my hands on, but nothing was quite as much fun as the piano.
What I really wanted was to sing. Singing borders on crossing over to another plane of existence for me, and is still one of the best stress relieving things I can do for myself. I was a dedicated choir member from middle school through graduation and loved absolutely every minute.
It can't be a coincidence that I lived in Music City, (Llyria) Spain and now I live in Music City, TN.
If somehow you are still reading after that long and boring walk down memory lane, let me move on to the important part.
Music holds memories.
Did you catch that? Every one of those things that I wrote about have very vivid mental images in my mind, along with a million other musical memories. Music seems to be the way that I count the passing of time in my life, and how I preserve the times that are important to me. Every single song on my iPod has memories and people tied to them. I literally had to purge my old music once many years ago because I realized that a lot of the songs I was listening to and enjoyed were tied to painful memories... and every time I heard the song, the pain would come up and hit me as if no time had passed at all. Even "I Can't Fight This Feeling", even though it started out innocent enough when I was little, carries the sadness of my baby brothers funeral with it. I would dare say that a person could get to know me faster than anyone ever thought possible by skimming through my music list and asking "What is this one tied to?" (if I could withstand the barrage). Music is where my squishy INTJ emotions hide. I hoard these little treasures like others hoard pictures, and I pull them out to examine them and relive them when the mood strikes me.
I don't know if this is the case with all INTJ's, I'd imagine we each have our own way of 'storing' emotions, but I would also bet that it's something Intuition related, perhaps artistic after a fashion. I'd be curious to know if others experience a similar phenomenon.
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