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Writer's Block

The sound of inspiration

What type of music inspires you?

Answers (263)

  • Well, it depends on. Some music inspires me to write, or draw, or try to do something. It's kind of hard to answer.

  • Praise and worship songs keep a hallelujah in my spirit.

    We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song. -Pope John Paul II


  • Country music because most country songs are about love and real life

  • My first journal entry here.
    My music inspiration...is Paramore simple as. When i'm drawing, writing lyrics or music, thinking over something Paramore is what really inspires me


  • Music from the 60s, 70s and 80s because music from those years ARE the real music. I also fall in love with Spanish music (thanks to my best friend Cammy who showed me a video of a singer called Selena) and japanese music (which I discovered while looking through youtube), both languages are amazing singers.
  • to me music with an actual story not the screaming crap that talks about absolutely nothing music that means something is really important to me and i like writing with the music

  • Come on over to , the new archive community for old Writer's Block questions!
  • Like the music never give up never give in, or i know i can be what i wanna be. Thoes music about life about dreaming and acheiving are so insipring. HOnestly
  • Lots of music inspires me!!
    The music that inspires me most is the type of music that has a really important message to me and to others, other than things about love and stuff. I have nothing against love songs or anything, but most songs seem to be about love and sometimes it gets tedious.
    One of my most inspiring songs is "Live Every Second" by Tokio Hotel. Here are some of the lyrics:

    ~From today all the days are only half as long
    Nothing left to love about
    Yesterday is one million years ago
    Day before already went down
    Time's been replaced by a countdown
    The sun is shining in the night
    So here are words just think it twice
    Wake me up, cause time is running out,
    running out
    Running out, running out 

    Live every second
    here and now
    don't let go
    Live every second
    here and now
    don't let go
    Before it's to late.,..~

    It's an obvious message but it's easy to understand. Basically, I think he is saying to me to try to live life to its fullest and when you are feeling a feeling of giving up, just try your hardest to spring back and keep on living life.  One of the most inpiring lines of that song is "Wake me up cause time is running out" Basically saying, we don't live forever, and you should enjoy life as it is because you won't always be living. 

    Another one of my favorite inspiring songs is "No Fear" by The Rasmus. In a way, the message is kind of hidden yet it's so obvious once you start to figure it out. Here are some lyrics:

    ~Girl, You lived your life like a sleeping swan
    Your time has come to go deeper
    Girl, Your final journey has just begun
    Your destiny chose the reaper

    No Fear
    Destination Darkness...~

    So, the point that the song is trying to make that I think is that she is ending a long and hard section or "chaper" so to speak in her life and is begining a new one. In the music video, there is a girl and she is surrounded by moths and they are kinda ugly...XD But in the end of the video, the moths retreat or whatever and are replaced by beautiful butterflies. I think the moths represent the old and the butterflies represent the new. 

    I really encourage you to check out these songs, even if you have already heard them. Just listen really hard to the lyrics and not just the song. I think there is always a moral or something to be learned from a song and even if it doesn't have lyrics, it still is trying to say something; if it's obvious or not.

    - Paiva
     
  • I really love Tom Waits.  His music has inspired a lot of my writing and artwork recently.  I love classical music and jazz.  When I want to create, I put on the jazz, classical and Tom Waits and see what happens.  Allow me to share a couple of fics inspired from Tom Waits:

    I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love with You

    “Hey, Tseng a group of us are heading out to the bar tonight after work. You interested in coming?”

    The dark haired Wutaian turned from the papers he was placing in an envelope to make sure they were really speaking to him instead of in his general direction. “Where are you going? I have things to finish up here but I could meet you there?” His words were still heavily clipped and accented, his time in Midgar not yet enough to round out his speech.

    “We’re going to the Golden Chocobo. It’s not far from here, just down three blocks west and two blocks south. A lot of Shinra employees hang out there after hours.”

    “I think I’ve heard of it. Yes, I’d very much like to go. Thank you.”

    “Here, I’ll jot down my number in case you get lost.” The spiky haired man jotted a number on the back of a scrap of paper on Tseng’s desk and gave him a wink. “See ya there.”

    Tseng delivered the envelopes to their various locations, the last being put in the inbox for President Shinra’s secretary. Upon walking through the doorway, he spied a dark haired man with a toothpick between his teeth leaning against the corner of the desk and looking as though he were waiting for something. Tseng faltered a step, but continued to his destination, gingerly laying the packet of papers on the desk. He had purposely averted his eyes until he turned to leave and caught those of the other man, a rich, deep brown. Tseng startled, not expecting their eyes to meet and he stopped movement for just long enough to stare.

    “Ye got a problem?” he asked, voice deep and rough.

    Tseng realized he was staring and gave a short bow. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare. I was trying to place you in the company.” Liar. “My name is Xian Tseng.”

    “Turk. Claude Elroy.”

    “It is my pleasure to meet you, Claude.” Tseng gave another short bow and took the opportunity to leave, the animosity radiating from the man making him very uncomfortable. Tseng was nearly at the door before Claude spoke again.

    “Yea. Nice meetin’ ye, Tseng.”

    He paused only long enough to show that the greeting had registered before turning around the corner and leaving.

    Having all of his paperwork delivered, Tseng set out from Shinra to the bar. The directions were simple enough, but he still had the small scrap of paper tucked in his jacket pocket in case he somehow missed where he was going. The walk was pleasant as the evening was mild and the sky clear overhead. As he neared the front of the building, he spied a familiar form going through the wooden arched doorway and kept a few paces behind him. He watched Claude head to the only empty table in the place and took a seat. He debated about asking him if he could join him, but the memory of their earlier exchange had him a bit shy on the idea. He cast an eye around for the boy who had asked him to come out and didn’t find him, so he cast an eye around for an empty chair somewhere that wasn’t with Claude. He frowned deeply when he realized there wasn’t anywhere free and headed for the bar to get a drink. When a stool opened, he took it gratefully, still looking around almost forlornly for the spiky haired young man. It would have been easier for him if he had at least met someone here before other than Claude Elroy. In a bold moment, he called out his name, seeing if, by chance, the man would turn and acknowledge his presence. He waited patiently for a few minutes and realized the music might be a little loud for him to hear. Steeling his voice, Tseng called out again, willing his voice to carry a bit farther. He was sure the man would have heard him this time. There was no recognition.

    A waitress handed Claude a drink and a couple of people joined him at his table, both of them in dark suits much like the one Claude wore. Tseng assumed they, too, were Turks and sipped at his drink casually as he spied around for anyone he’d ever seen before at the company. Finally he spied the spiky head and rose from the stool, making his way over to their table and introduced himself, the group pulling up an empty chair to the two person table so they could chatter. He finished off his drink and ordered a second, the conversation at the table lulling him. When he looked back over, Claude was still sitting by himself and nearly at the end of his drink. The thought once again crossed his mind to say something to him and offer to keep him company. Somehow he thought a single person would be better conversation than the three people at the table around him.

    They weren’t there long at all before they were joined by a woman who lured the spiky haired boy away and his two friends followed, leaving Tseng alone. Other people stole the extra chairs, leaving him with an empty seat across from him. He looked across the bar at Claude who was staring at him and their eyes met, this time a strange light over his features. They lingered for a moment before they both looked away, Tseng ordering a third drink. If he didn’t draw up the courage to talk to him again before he’d finished his last drink, he was going to leave and go back home. He sipped slowly. His eyes cast over the bar, helplessly glancing over Claude.

    Last call. Tseng looked down at his glass and sighed before he downed the rest. Claude hadn’t seemed especially thrilled to see him before and he didn’t want to make a scene at a bar after they had both been drinking. He collected his suit jacket from the back of the chair where he’d left it and made his way out.

    I'm Still Here

    He wasn’t really sure why he was even here, but the urge to visit the place was almost overwhelming. He’d seen more of him lately, poking here and there around the building and visiting various sites Tseng had sent various assignments given to the newer recruits. He’d seen him busily working around the building and returning more heavily into training. He’d seen him in the break rooms and often his coffee cup was missing from the hook where it hadn’t been missing before. Sometimes it was sitting with rings on the counter where the ring on the bottom of the mug made knotwork from a long night on surveillance or babysitting duty.

    Claude was home. The President was dead. The two were related.

    So many years Tseng had been spent in one or two month endeavors with someone who just never seemed to work out and, although he’d tried, Tseng had just never gotten over him, some part of his consciousness was always tuned in to when Claude was in the building. He was always watching, waiting, assuming Claude would always change his mind and be interested again, despite never showing jealousy when Tseng had pointedly brought his lovers around to watch his reaction. Tseng knew Claude had seen them, knew he noted who he was with, but never once showed a hint of emotion or irritation, simply sipped his coffee and read his paper. It irritated Tseng. How he could be so caught up in Claude when the man could just walk away as though they hadn’t been incredible together absolutely infuriated him.

    With a smile, Tseng recounted his initial encounter with the dark haired heathen who pulled him from his desk on orders of training him in the Turk program. They’d sparred for days, Claude trying everything he could to get Tseng to fight back. The racial slurs, insulting pet names, his attempts to get the best of the Wutaian all failed until Claude split Tseng’s lip with a well timed blow. The moment Tseng tasted blood, he fired up and struck back, breaking through Claude’s defense until the two of them ended up on the ground grappling with each other until they realized neither of them were really fighting.

    When they’d kissed, it was electric and Tseng has been hooked. The relationship barely had three months before they were set on rocky soil, a situation Tseng has always reeled at and still did at times, the change in the quiet closeness they shared became stretched, thin and uneasy. It led to the distance that crept in and the eventual blow up when Tseng called him on the avoidance and shady behavior, Claude nearly exploded and, after a fight much like the one that had brought them together, rent them apart. At least the sex had been good both times.

    Claude had sent him off like a christened ship adrift in the dark waters of the night and Tseng had been lost since. No relationship he’d been in ever lasted longer than his relationship with Claude, usually ending in some strange way with either being unceremoniously dumped or an odd occasion of cheating or discomfort that led to Tseng breaking it off.

    Tonight he’d dressed in what Tseng believed was his best color. Black slacks and shirt, a bright blue tie and more subdued blazer as he set out for the lounge where he and Claude had spent so much time while they were together.

    As soon as he’d gotten in line, the flood of excitement he’d always felt standing here with his beau in their youth, the thrill of being together, dancing with one another, sharing a drink and their day. He brushed past the bouncer, being allowed entrance, and made his way straight to the bar for a little false courage. He picked the stool he’d always occupied while waiting on Claude, something dark and in the shadows where he wouldn’t be noticed. Tseng had waited here for Claude every Friday night when Tseng had gotten off work before Claude.

    As he sipped his drink, he cast an eye around, knowing before he had ever looked that Claude was missing. The soft jazz was comforting, not having come here more than twice since he and Claude split. It had been painful and awkward being unable to see his lover and be unable to touch him. It was worse when Claude was there with someone else. Hopefully Claude would be alone tonight.

    Tseng sat waiting, nursing two more drinks before he felt the familiar prickle at the back of his neck announcing Claude’s presence. Dark eyes turned to the door, lighting on the man who jogged down the few steps to the floor of the lounge. Tseng watched as Claude selected a table and settled into the chair, waiting for the waitress to tell Claude he already had a drink waiting on him. She shook her head and they exchanged a few words. As soon as the woman left, he could feel the eyes roving for the anonymous person who had sent the scotch neat. As soon as it hit the table, Tseng had slipped from his seat, holding the place with the bartender as he went to request a song. Claude had somehow missed him thus far.

    The request made, Tseng slipped back into his seat, picking up his drink as he heard the song cue with a softly keying piano, Tseng turned just a bit over his shoulder and watched out of the corner of his eye. As the lines played, the dark, rough voice of the singer rasping over the refrain,

    You haven't looked at me that way in years
    You dreamed me up and left me here
    How long was I dreaming for
    What was it you wanted me for

    You haven't looked at me that way in years
    Your watch has stopped and the pond is clear
    Someone turn the lights back off
    I'll love you ‘til all time is gone


    The moment he’d turned his profile, he could feel the burn of Claude’s eyes. He sent the subtle message. Now all he could do was wait and hope. So many years and so much time spent waiting, wanting, miserable and Tseng wanted the door open. This was the only way he could think to do it.

    You haven't looked at me that way in years
    But I'm still here
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