Whirlwind of Kleenex

I've been listening to so much good music lately that when I try to make music, all these other people are singing in my head and I don't have room for, or knowledge of, what I want to write. This happens frequently to me. I know I just have to wait. For the space in my brain, for the feelings in my head to sort themselves out into phrases, for the time when I feel so urgent that I can't get paper and pencil fast enough. Betweentimes I work a little, forcing words out, all the time waiting for them to call my name of their own accord. It's like when I go to have my teeth checked and I'm impaiently sitting in the office. Unlike my orthodontist, though, there is really good music here.