And I Think You Might Know Me Better, Just a Little, After This...

Umm, why is the first sentence not showing up? WTF?

I decided to give myself a little bloggy project, because stream-of-consciousness writing is failing me abysmally 'round these parts. I am a huge fan of music. Huge. I have always had songs that can instantly package me up in a time machine and transport me to a memory-laden part of my brain. There are others I love because they speak to my core. Shake me up and stir me a bit, maybe coat my rim with a little salt, and inspire me to enjoy, relish who I am, where I am. I wanted to list them here for posterity. My top ten. And just, you know, in case you're in search of something to post about, I'm terribly nosy, er, rather, curious, and I love to hear what music speaks to other people. Just sayin'.

The List.

10. When I was having a rough spell in college, and wanted with every fiber of my being to be a bouncy, happy soul, and writing dark entries in my diary outside of Forcina Hall donned in my combat boots and baby barettes and my Dad's old worn-out WAY TOO BIG jeans wasn't working for me, this song would steal me briefly to a happy place where I was that free spirit I so badly wanted to be.



9. You may remember me mentioning an asshole in my past who sent a hoagie sailing past my head and threw a television in my general direction. We were together for about five, maybe six months. For the last four or five of those months, I listened to this song over and over again, wistfully tearing up. And when I'd finally had enough of him quelching my Zube-ness and kicked his ass out, I'd listen to this song smiling. And blast it to the highest decibal possible on my cheap old cd player when he proceeded to sell drugs on my porch. Asshole.



8. When I was in high school, I adorned my notebooks with little I Love Myself doodles. I didn't really mean it at the time, but I hoped that writing it over and over again, someday I might. Still don't know if I believe it, but this song reminds me of the need to try.



7. In 2003, my Uncle John died of a heart attack. He was only 45 and left behind three young children. It was tragic. I was heartbroken. He had always been kind of my favorite uncle. My Mom said when she went to his house while visiting for his memorial, he had a picture of me on his mantel. I didn't know he had cared about me enough to display my photo. And sadly, he probably didn't know how much I cared about him. The truth of it is, while I was saddened by his death, it made me promise myself that I would never take people for granted. I can't tell you how often I put off a visit to him in Wisconsin. I thought I had all the time in the world. But the fucked up thing about life, and death, is that you just don't know. It's the reason I started blogging. I wanted people to be able to find a little piece of me should I be gone. So they didn't feel like they'd missed out on so much. Like I did with Uncle John.


Uncle John loved the Devils. I love the Devils. In 2003, they won the Stanley Cup just a few weeks after he died. For him. Or so I like to think. After they won, I played this song on the juke box. And everyone at the bar toasted him. The bartender bought the shots.



6. Because I'm always striving to be.

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5. Makes me cry every time. In a good way. I have leaned on so many and can only hope that I've been there for others to lean on half as often.



4. In the past, and sometimes still, I worry I hurt those I love more than not. I hope its not true, but I worry nonetheless.



3. Because I will get by. And I will survive. I have. And for a while there, I didn't even want to. So glad I did.



2. Because lo those many years ago when I was sitting in my dorm room staring at the bottle of sleeping pills I'd been prescribed, I listened to this song. And just took one. And put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet.



PS- Thanks, Dave, for introducing this song to me. Don't know if you still read here.

1. This is my song. Because you just don't know how it feels. And, neither do I know how it feels to be you. And I like to picture us all wandering around trying to make the best of the fact that the only person we know what it feels like to be is ourselves. And hoping that taking this truth into consideration, we do the best we can. It doesn't always work out well that way, but it's a nice pipe dream to have.



If you're so inclined, please let me know if you share yours. I'd love to take a peek.