The music in me

I couldn't sleep on Sunday night. Very well, at any rate. I'd had sort of an emotional weekend, and I was just sort of decompressing, and instead of getting much-needed rest, my brain went wild. The weird part, though, is that it wasn't going wild with World-Problem-Solving problems, like usual (no, really, I have education reform plans all up in this pretty little head of mine, but only late at night, and it never makes sense in the morning), but something far, far, less sensible.

I was thinking about words. How if words are just comprised of letters--and we all know letters are just marks we're trained to recognize--then why does it have to be words? If we assigned a musical note to each of the 26 letters, could we learn, over time, to listen to language as if it were a song? We could play each word as if it were part of the grand symphony of life, and we'd know (because our ears would be trained in this manner) what the music was saying.

This is what I laid in bed and thought about for about an hour. There are a lot of issues with this thought pattern, of course, first and foremost that it really doesn't make sense and wouldn't work, due to octaves only having eight keys. I'm sure something could work though.

But I got on this whole thing about what these proposed musical words would sound like. Would mean-sounding words sound... mean? Like you know how the word "harsh" sounds sort of, well, harsh? And grating really does bring to mind a grating feeling? I mean, because we haven't grown up with musical words, we don't even really know how our brains would interpret something like that.

While I miss the sleep (yes, I still miss it), I don't really regret that hour of puzzled thought I put towards the harebrained scheme. I knew that morning couldn't be that bad. After all, my Good Mornings still sound like words, not like angry feeling expressed through music.

Something to be thankful for, yes?