sensational, irresistible

[so if you don't currently own collapse into now, the brand-new R.E.M. album, go get it. now. i'll wait. got it? good. now we can go on.]

southern alt-rock girls such as myself have a special relationship with R.E.M. mine began the first time i ever heard "fall on me," one of the most beautiful songs ever written. i think i was seven, and it was LOVE. i mean, pure-out, howl-at-the-moon LOVE. i was changed, permanently. (hey, by the way, remember when "losing my religion" won all those MTV VMAs? back when the M stood for music, that is. there was a time when alt-rock kids were the culture. i miss that. but i digress.)

one of the great things about R.E.M. is the way they tell stories in their songs. michael stipe can say more in three minutes that i could ever hope to say in a thousand blog entries. he crawls into my heart and wrings out the emotion i had in there, saying it better than i ever could. "be mine," from new adventures in hi-fi (which is one of the greatest records ever made, in my humble opinion - it's not only amazing, but it's the record that originally drew me into my friendship with the man, some 15 years ago), was on an endless loop as i finally decided to pursue something more than just casual hook-ups with the man. they speak my language, i guess.

so on the new album, which i have owned for 38 hours as of this writing and listened to four times through, there's a track called "blue." it's a throwback to "e-bow the letter," the main single from new adventures, down to the patti smith vocal track. it's largely poetry, michael stipe reading his words, voice filtered through effects over sleepy, beautiful guitars. but the last stanza is what hit me harder than anything i've heard recently:

i'm not giving up easy, i will not fold
i don't have much, but what i have is gold...
i want me, i want it all
i want sensational, irresistible
this is my time, and i am thrilled to be alive
living, blessed, i understand.

damn. it's like a bolt out of the blue. (oof - pardon the pun.) i'm big on finding messages in the world around me. my ex used to make fun of me and our mutual ex-best friend, telling us, y'all, life is not a song cue. i don't know about that; i find that songs and life are inextricably intertwined. music is the river that runs through my life. maybe it's being a musician's daughter, growing up around live bands, the constant sound of daddy's guitar noodling underwriting nearly every memory i have. but i find my life, my inspiration in music. R.E.M. has always been a key part of that, and this song struck me like a giant cosmic 2x4. check your head, girl, it says. you don't have much, but it's valuable as hell. be thrilled. be blessed. understand.

i hear you, michael. i'm listening. thanks.

firework

pop music and i are usually not friends. i favor alt-rock, alt-country, songwriters with pithy and/or ironic worldviews. (oh yeah - and rap that was released in the late 1980s through the early 2000s. i'm a sucker for a good beat.) but i've been gobsmacked by this hooky little minx of a song. i swear, it's been on an endless loop in my head for over a week now. and for the longest time, i could NOT figure out why. there's nothing special about the beat, the words or even the sentiment.

but then i got to thinking about the lyrics again...

you just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
just own the night like the fourth of july
'cause, baby, you're a firework
come on, show 'em what you're worth...
come on, let your colors burst...
you're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe...
boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
it's always been inside of you
and now it's time to let it through

kinda sounds like an anthem for someone who's been pent up, repressed (by herself or by others) and wants nothing more to live up to everything she's always wanted to be, eh? yeah, and another word for all of those concepts is divorcee.

i've met a lot of women, both blog-friends and life-friends, who are divorcing, considering divorce, or have finished the process. though the experience is harrowing (even for those of us with no kids and no stuff to fight over), and it causes pain and unexpected levels of sorrow, the end result of the whole thing is... lightness. you feel like yourself again, but better, improved, forged in fire and tougher than steel. you survived, you made the right choice, and the world is your oyster.

i got the following statement told to me a lot when i was back in my louisiana homeland: you look so much lighter these days. and you know? i am. i feel free, unburdened. the troubles that weighed me down and made me dour, dark, and angry are gone. in their place is this sense that, hell, i got through it, and i lived. i can do anything i want now. i feel like the joy of getting back to the life i wanted to live shines through every pore, making me glow in the light of my own strength. and i think that's why this stupid little pop song is so stupidly life-affirming to me. i am here to show y'all what i'm worth, let my colors burst and shoot across the sky. i own the night. i let it shine.

boom, boom, boom, y'all.

je ne regrette rien

i've made a lot of decisions in the last year, and it's safe to say that i've blown up my life and rebuilt it, basically in front of the watchful eyes of the internet. but the last piece of the biggest decision came through today: my name change. i went from magnolia [married name] to magnolia [birth name]. for the first time since 2002, i don't have his last name anymore.

along with the huge administrative headache, there's a strange cocktail of emotion swirling around this one. this is it - it is OVER. once and for all, the break is complete. no retreat, no regrets, it is all said and done. i'm relieved, anguished, thrilled, angry, pleased and disappointed, all at once. the whole thing is shot through with exhaustion. the last year has been a heavy burden. even though i know it's not warranted, the guilt and anger my ex has thrown at me has been hard to handle. it's been rough on the man, too, having to deal with me like this. and now that it's over... well. i don't even know where to begin.

but i am certain of one thing. i am 100% on the right path. this is the life i chose, it's the life i want. the transition hurt like hell, twisted me into shapes unimaginable and made me ache with sorrow and rage more times than i care to consider. but i regret NOTHING. i got everything i wanted. i am free. and now, with the coda written, the symphony is over. time to start a new magnum opus.

and non, je ne regrette rien.

tougher than the rest

[no lyric interpretation, but here's your soundtrack anyway. sorry for the ad. god, i love this song.]

i'll tell you a secret: sometimes, i want nothing more than to be traditionally, proverbially swept off my feet, whisked away, in that really hackneyed fairy-tale way. just like peter cetera in that song from the karate kid, part II, i want him to come in like a knight in shining armor from a long time ago, just in time to save the day and take me to his castle far away.

how freaking retrograde is that? i'm supposed to be a rough-and-tumble feminist. i can take care of myself better than most people can, that's for sure. but i just get so damn tired sometimes. i spent so long being the caretaker, the capable one, in my old life. it's probably more my fault than my ex's, really; co-dependency is just as bad as dependency, in some ways. but no matter whose fault it is, that's how it was, and that's why my ex is my ex. it's beyond apparent that i can shoulder the burden all day long. but i just don't want to sometimes. i just want to be kept.

the man has always been on my side. now that we're together, he's strengthened that position in my life, becoming my biggest cheerleader. he tells me constantly how smart i am. he trusts my resolve implicitly, dismissing my doubts with a simple, hmph, whatever, you'll kick its ass. he always tells me things like, you know i'd do anything for you, and you mean the world to me. he and i fit together in ways i can't even describe.

and he does me the biggest favor anyone can do: he refuses to swoop in and "rescue" me. as i continue the amazingly whiplash-inducing experience that is post-divorce graduate school, i find myself staring down a series of challenges. the weight of my life is heavy, and i found myself desperately seeking some form of escape, some easy way out of my troubles. but he would not give it. he gives no quarter to my insecurities. and in his way, he ends up saving me from one of my biggest threats - my own self-doubt. he builds me up, he reminds me how strong i am. when i look at him as he calmly rejects my own misgivings, all i see is the belief he has in me. 

and with an ally like him, how could i doubt myself? his faith makes me tougher than the rest.

the heart of the matter

[with special thanks to an utterly awesome blogger for the inspiration. are you reading her? go read her immediately after you're done here. you will LOVE her.]

and i thought of all the bad luck, and the struggles we went through; how i lost me, and you lost you.
this road never gets easier. as the mechanical unwinding process continues, we still have to talk. and it's weird. i would love to be friendly, to be easy and natural with you. you're not interested in it. you've built a really obvious wall between us. i can't blame you for anything you've done. you're entitled to your process. but it's still rough, a small scrape with an emery board across my heart every time your voice sounds that way.

there are people in your life who've come and gone, they've let you down, y'know they've hurt your pride.
oh, wait. that's me, i guess. i did come and go, i let you down and hurt your pride. i broke you into pieces and, yeah, i hurt your pride. sorry about that. but i just get the feeling that i'm going to have to bear the cross of your pain and sorrow for a lot longer than you'll have to deal with mine. maybe that's what comes from being the decision-maker, the one who pulls the trigger. but i hardly think it's fair that i have to be continually blamed. i have tried to soften the blow as much as i can. i really, really have.

and the work i've put between us, you know, it doesn't keep me warm.
it's pretty apparent that i'm basically happy in my life. my professional dreams are lining up, school is... well, it's school, and then there's the whole "i'm in a loving relationship with my real, honest soul mate" thing. (not that we're discussing that; it's, frankly, not your business anymore. you may have some clue, but really, it's not your concern.) but the reality is, i miss what we were. and no matter what comes up in its place, there will be a hole in me where you used to be. it'll be a little cold, a little tender, and yes, a little painful forever. neither of us will ever get over this. ever.

i'm learning to live without you now, but i miss you sometimes.
it's a different life i have now, suddenly, without a lot of adjustment time. and you know, i was pretty damn comfortable. your good qualities - man, it's notable that i don't have some of that stuff in my life. your unconditional kindness is something i miss. the world doesn't baby a woman on her own the way you were willing to do. i could always find comfort with you. that is not always the case now. the new relationship has a new dynamic, and he's not as soft with me as you always were. i'm not used to that. know this: it wasn't a wholesale rejection of you. i do miss you sometimes.

but i think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness, even if, even if you don't love me anymore.
you don't love me anymore. i know this. but i want to get to a place of forgiveness. maybe that'll happen someday. i sure hope it will, especially given that you'll be forty years old before we're all the way untangled from each other. that'll be twenty years of time in one another's lives, when it's all said and done. i'd like the last eight to be... not the same as the first twelve, but not a source of pain, anger and sorrow for both of us.

i want to be forgiven. maybe someday you'll grant it to me. i can hope, right?

sweet southern moon

[this all started when i found this picture while listening to this song. heard the song again today; hence the renewed nostalgia...]

i have one exam - one long, stupid take-home exam for a professor i, frankly, detest - standing between me and freedom for fall 2010. senior-itis (LL.M.-itis?) is hitting me hard. and with winter like this hitting the metro area as hard as it can, i was in the right frame of mind to get knocked sideways by a four-minute pop song about driving the river road in baton rouge.

yeah, i was never so sweet on baton rouge when i lived there. i love, love, LOVE the fact that i hold two degrees from LSU law center. i am proud as hell of that. GEAUX. TIGERS. but the town itself? meh. it's funny, though, how experiences twine themselves around your heart when you least see them coming. i find myself realizing just what i had when i lived there, and how, well, perfect LSU was for me.

i'll hit the road myself in a few days, heading back south for a series of amazing reunions with people all over the southeast, the family and friends who, frankly, got ignored for too long while i was living the old life, the one that wasn't me. but when i'm here, though i am blissfully happy with my surroundings, a shockingly intense twinge of longing for, say, boudin balls at the chimes whipsaws through me. i have no idea what causes this, but there it is.

this is an old habit of mine. for most of my adult life, and even when i was a snotty little college kid, i found it remarkably hard to just light somewhere. (to translate the southernism: light somewhere = be still and settle.) i spent my last two years of college constantly driving back and forth across the commonwealth of virginia. i always want to move, to go, to do. i am almost never at my house. it makes me wonder if it's the place i miss, or the action, the motion, the other-ness? interesting question, i guess. the time will come, very soon, when i put down roots for real. i've made commitments to this place, ones that i am not at all interested in breaking. the pliability that accompanied some of my old life choices is no longer available - the people involved in my decision-making process are adults, with lives and responsibilities of their own. balancing all of this inures towards staying still, being present and breathing for once in my life.

so the old strains of that silly little song, which really does sum up nights in baton rouge better than a thousand descriptions i could write, still tug at my heart. but when i'm done having some brews and marinating in that sweet, sweet southern moon, i'll get in the car and come back here, back to the arms of my love, my city, and i'll curl up in the comfort of home. the roots will grow. they're small, but they are most certainly there.

sirocco

the sirocco is a wind pattern in africa and europe that dries out the sahara and makes the mediterranean cold and damp. wind has been on my mind of late: it's been a constant feature of life here in the nation's capital of late. the identical bookends of my monday was a whisper from the man as we awoke, then again as we drifted off to sleep: "windy." i haven't been able to wear my hair down outside in days.

wind is funny in its casual, reckless and random destructive power. all over town, some signs and newspaper boxes are blown over, while others stand next to them untouched. some branches break; others remain. wind is without prejudice. it just blows, and if it touches you or not, well, whatever. it totally does not care.

wind also forms the basis for just untold metaphors for chance and carelessness in life. call me the breeze. forrest gump, floatin' along all accidental-like (and that feather, which was REALLY bad CGI in retrospect). against the wind. blowin' in the wind. dust in the wind. winds of change, the wind cries mary, blah, blah, blah. if anything, i find wind to be less of a metaphor and more of a constant. i mean, hell, what's more constant than change?

the french have a saying: plus ce change, plus c'est la meme chose. the more change, the more of the same thing. so wind might be random, altering things in its path. but hell, that's just the course of everyday life. what's so careless about that?

let it rain

[your soundtrack]

"you see the struggle on my face, you see it storming in my eye; you see it heavy on my shoulder, you see me swaying on the line..."

there was a time when i was better at hiding this. this girl was a master of disguise. i mean, hell, i could dance for you even when i was bleeding inside. i lived a double life for so long that i got really used to the feeling of being split in half. and then a funny thing happened: the strain broke through the mask, and i lost the capability to hide the hurt anymore. i don’t know what it was. maybe it was watching the end turn so ugly. maybe it was finally being honest and owning up to the insufficiency of the friends-with-benefits setup, coming clean about my feelings, and (to my great surprise) getting exactly what i wanted. whatever it is, i can’t keep how much it hurts, how angry i am, inside anymore. if you look at me, you’ll see it.

"bring on the troubles of the morning and the stories of my life; look up above, the clouds are forming and i’m not gonna hide..."

so why not own this? my life is hard as hell these days. everyone can see it, and i’m apparently the last person alive to acknowledge it. bring on the struggle. let me take it on with arms wide open, and if the pain shows through, i should have the decency to own up to the fact that i’m hurting. making myself a martyr only hurts me. well, me and everyone who has to deal with me while i’m carrying on like this. (see also my beloved boyfriend for the last few weeks.) the only way to keep it from swallowing me whole is to come out from behind the front and own it all.

"i’m not getting any younger, i took the longer road; and i know it’s made me stronger out here on my own..."

the man (as well as my friends and family) always says he’s proud of me for everything i’ve done and earned in my life. he tells me how strong i am, how tough i am. not only that, he tells me that i’m tougher than i think i am, and certainly stronger than i give myself credit for being. i think i’m finally starting to understand that he’s right. the things i’ve suffered through, as he told me, would have destroyed weaker people. funny how it’s taken him to finally drive that through my thick skull, but it’s true. i have struggled – oh, lord, how i have struggled – and i’m better for it. i’m far more of a complete person than someone who’s been through nothing.

"let it rain on me, let my shelter crumble down; take it all away, don’t need no one to save me now..."

i will rely on those who love me to support me. i’ve seen the results of the stubborn insistence on standing as the lone wolf in front of them and “proving” how “independent” i am. it is not pretty. but at the end of the day, no one can save me but me. i have to be accountable to myself; there’s no way around it. so let the walls fall down, and bring on whatever challenge there is. with the help and faith of those who love me, i’ll make it through everything. i will win. there’s no other choice.

the difficult kind

the weather has finally broken. the air's been pregnant with moisture for days, just waiting to burst forth and drench us all. thankfully, this all occurred after i got home with my groceries and my 50-pound school bag. but more importantly, my mood has broken along with the storm outside. the leaden feeling in my chest, the numbness that enveloped me, has been replaced with something lighter, more encouraging. about damn time, too.

there's a tinge of reborn confidence in this new emotional state. i'm starting to internalize the good parts of the changes in my life, and not in a fleeting "thank god it's over!" kind of way. yeah, this process, now that it's real, is harrowing and painful. things will be said that hurt me more than i could imagine, but that's the only bullet he has left. but i know i'm already better for standing up and cutting the cord. i've owned up to my mistake. i've offered my mea culpa, too. that's all i can do. now the growth, the working on me, begins in earnest.

no one ever said this would be easy. i'm finding out just how hard it is, actually. loving and losing in such a spectacularly devastating fashion has made me someone different than i was before. but it's bringing out the good in me, in a way that's far more authentic than clinging to a glittering charade. it's just a shame that i can't share the change with him. if he could only see what love has made of me, but i'll no longer be in his life. what he'll remember of me, well, it almost makes me cry. but that's how it happens, i guess. that's the fallout, and that's his loss. the lessons of this will be well appreciated in those who stick around.

and you won't see the good in me. but, babe, i've changed.

the river

"is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is it something worse?"

i'm winding down a fabulous weekend escaping stress by studying constitutional law and watching a bruce springsteen concert film. i have a long and complicated history with the music of bruce springsteen, and during this particular tour, they did an alternate arrangement of the river, one of my favorite songs in the entire catalogue. this line in particular has sneaked up to blindside me from time to time over the last couple of years, as i face a path littered with the shards of broken dreams and a planned future dismantled.

but when i think about it, i'm not sure it's either, really. i mean, i guess i was telling lies when i said i'd never leave, that i'd be there forever. but how was i to know that? somewhere in the tragedy, buried under the piles of regret and the things you swore would never be your reality, is the tiny silver glint of something, well, better. it's hope. it's possibility. it's rebirth. and it's the knowledge that there are just no guarantees. just do the best you can. walk forward. make amends.

you can't be responsible for another person's happiness. all you can do is tend to your own needs and be as kind as you can. it's not a lie if you dream something that can't come to pass. it's just another day.

butchers

[can't find the sound for you; this is a song by the amazing band slobberbone. track's called, conveniently enough, "butchers."]

"now she's had seven years of happiness with a boy she's always claimed to have adored, and there's fewer who've been truer but as of late she finds herself a little bored..."

growing up means growing apart. there's no getting around it. there are people with whom i spent every freaking second of my life at age six who, if we met today, would have no common ground with me whatsoever. not that there would be hostility, mind you; far from it. it'd probably be one of those nice, little heartwarming things that happens every once in awhile. you come home and say, "hey, you'll never guess who i ran into today." well, you say that if you've got someone to come home to. and there's the twist; what happens when that person from whom you're growing apart is the person to whom you come home?

"she tells him she still loves him and has only good thoughts of him, and the times they've had and hopes that it'll help him understand..."

oh, lord. this is the part that people just don't face, i think. this is what sets the brave and heartless apart from the kind and spineless. how do you admit to someone who, really, isn't such a bad person that you've outgrown something you swore up and down you'd stick with forever? y'know, you'd fight for through thick, thin, etc. sigh. it's not like this sort of thing is uncommon. maybe it's an outmoded way of thinking at all. hell, it happened to the gores, and they were all story-book-ish and whatnot. and they were rich and privileged on top of it. oh, who knows. there's only one outcome ahead: ripping, tearing, blood, tears, tragedy.

"when she runs her knife straight through him, it's the only way to do them; she's the winner of the game but she'll never get the bloodstains off her hands..."

so i'll do it, i'll cop to my evolutions, my growth, my change, and my frustrations. i'll cop to it all. and i'll probably get what i want. yay. but what the hell do i win? i don't win anything, except the space to suffer the consequences of what i've done. youthful mistakes so heavily compounded with the trappings of adulthood. god, there should be some kind of psychological test requirements to do what we did. but there's only so much "why?" you can ask. if you can avoid making a flowery, emotional speech when you break the news, the boy will respect you for your frankness, if nada surf is to be believed. heh. i don't think it works that way when you're as grown as i am.

"in the end, they all fall just the same but she'll never get the bloodstains off her hands..."

the end of a life is never pretty. there's nothing attractive, nice, or fun about this. there's just the slowly rising feeling of some amalgamation of dread, terror, relief, sorrow, and something black and heavy mixed together in the depths of my heart. people do this stuff every day and i know that. i am not special for the havoc i'm about to wreak. far from it. but that doesn't change the permanent alteration i'm about to undergo. (and i really, at this point, only have business worrying about myself; worrying about him is just condescending.) the why, the how - none of it matters anymore. i just have to carry the fact that i'm a butcher, a murderer of dreams and possibilities, and that the flowers i carried down the aisle that long-ago day have long since died. he'll hurt. there's no doubt. but i'll be changed forever. you carry your victims with you wherever you go. i will be no different.

"he'll have some temporary pain, but she will never get the bloodstains off her hands."

barely breathing

[soundtrack. sorry for the stupid commercial.]

"i know what you're doing; i see it all too clear..."
yeah, i'm writing you another letter tonight, my dear. you just don't know when to let it go, do you? i spend forty-eight hours just shaking with anger at you, and at me for the way i let you infiltrate every cell in my body. just rage, nothing but rage, and all-consuming rage at that. it was so all-consuming that i even managed not to feel somehow blessed by your very acknowledgement of my status update. (yeah, because we're thirty, or pushing thirty, going on fifteen, apparently.) that was good. but what do you do today? you manage to wield your particular brand of half-concerned, half-pedantic wisdom at me, and damn it all, i bite. you knew i would, too. i can't put you down like that.

"everyone keeps asking, what's it all about? it used to be so certain, but i can't figure out..."
i think it was the insanity of the weekend, the loose lips that goddamn near sank this ship twice in one night. (you should really find a way to shut him up, by the way. he's gonna cause you some trouble someday, whether about me or about something else.) it really did start me thinking. what the hell are we doing? moreover, what are YOU doing? what have you been doing all along? i mean, you've told me a lot. but really, i don't know what to think about your motivations. you're either the most obvious person i've ever met or the best con artist in the history of time. i'm not sure which it is anymore. but i sure as hell make it easy for you. i always do. i always have. but after all that, i'm really not sure i want to do this. it hurts. it's hard. it's getting risky. and i always end up feeling like i've given a lot more than i got.

"what is this attraction? i only feel the pain, with nothing left to reason, and only you to blame..."
to stop spewing bile for a minute and be fair about things, it's not like i think you're lying to me. it's not an issue of dishonesty, or feeling swindled, that con artist line notwithstanding. i'm starting to feel like i've been sleeping with dexter morgan: someone who's so incapable of human closeness that the closest he'll ever get to love is, well, a charade. that's the devil's bargain he's struck. preserving the interior darkness, the solitude, at the expense of everything real around him, becoming nothing more than a full-time master of disguise. hmm. sound familiar? i mean, i pour my goddamn heart out to you every time. i've come so close to professing love for you so many times... but i hold back. i hold back for two reasons. one, it's not possible right now. there are complications. but two, i know you can't deal with that. the one time you thought i did that, well, i've never heard you so scared. it's almost like (gasp!) you would've had to feel something risky, something that you couldn't manage or control. so what are we? what is this? what am i?

"and i could stand here waiting, a fool for another day; i don't suppose it's worth the price, you're worth the price, the price that i am paying, but i'm thinking it over anyway..."
i know what i am. loyal. loyal to a fault. loyal to the biggest fault you could imagine. i can be so fucking savage when i want to be, slicing people and things out of my life without a single hesitation. i did it to you once, too. and it was hard. and it hurt. it hurt more than this does, if that's even imaginable. so i've made my own devil's bargain here. i take all of this. i take the darkness, the distance, the limits you place on your affections. i take it because i'm a fool for you. i always will be, apparently, because even as thoroughly enraged as i am, i still won't cut you off. i keep you in my heart. i hold back how i feel. i maintain my own charade, knowing that it's the closest we'll ever get. i won't let it go. you win again. you always do. you get everything you want. meanwhile, here i sit, tied in knots. again. always. you have some kind of charm, you know, and it's something you don't even understand. good thing you don't; i couldn't imagine you in full command of this. you'd be dangerous. i mean, more dangerous than you are right now, that is.

so good night, my dear. sleep the sleep of the just, as you always do. just maybe, if you think about it, consider what this is. think about me, sitting here tonight, tearing myself to shreds over you. ask yourself if the wall you've built around you keeps you as warm as my body does. you need to decide: is the image worth it? or is there something in you that will let you open the door to me? you've got your options. make your choice. because i see you better than you think i do. i know your mind, your heart, a little more than you'd like me to. and my dear, you are so much more than your charade. we are so much more than your charade. think about that the next time you wake up alone.

"i know what you're doing. i see it all too clear."

one step up

[soundtrack]

"we're the same sad story, that's a fact; one step up and two steps back..."
i know by now that you know. you have the sense that there's something wrong. your voice is hard when we talk. there's distance. you don't call me. the last time i saw you, there was a definite space between us, one that even i felt. frankly, i was surprised at how that space still, somehow, managed to hurt me. just a little, but it definitely hurt, a dull ache deep in my soul, under all the anger, the frustration and the exasperation. sometimes things blow up when they end, loud, ugly confrontations that tear and rip and wake the neighbors. i kinda thought that's how it would go down with us, given how passionate and irrational our relationship has always been. but maybe i miscalculated. maybe this thing will just die quietly, no fanfare, no screaming. just... thud.

"i'm sitting here in this bar tonight, but all i'm thinking is i'm the same old story, same old act..."
i've always thought of myself as special, different, even better than most people. i'm an only child with above-average intelligence, decent looks and a good work ethic, so that gives me a pretty damn good ego. but the older i get, the more i realize that i am not anywhere near as unique as i used to think i was. i am, at my heart, pretty freaking run of the mill. the way i chose to conduct myself at the end of this has been pretty ignominious, to be sure, but it's also been cliched. i pushed you away. i sought refuge in other recreations. i took up drinking, ran the streets with my friends, and basically behaved like an adolescent for most of this. some mature, rational person i am, eh? instead of metaphorically manning up, facing the music and owning it, i just... yeah.

"it's the same thing night on night, who's wrong, baby, who's right. another fight and i slam the door on another battle in our dirty little war..."
we don't fight much. when we do, it's epic. i can be so goddamned vicious when i want to. i cut. i aim low. when i am wounded, i want everyone else around me to feel the pain i do. but that's no way to run a railroad. that's probably the biggest sign that we're doomed: i won't even invest enough of my heart in you anymore to scald you. when i think of you, it hurts my heart, like pushing on a bruise that just won't heal. but there's just no energy to hurt back. none. i just want it to stop. i want the door closed behind me. and i think that's what's going to end up happening, one way or another.

"when i look at myself i don't see the man i wanted to be..."
i fought so hard for this over the years. i changed so much, sacrificed so hard, rearranged the universe in the image i thought would work for us. and look where it got me: sitting here alone tonight, torn of soul and weary of spirit, with my heart pulled in so many different directions i can't stand it. and most of all, i just want to forget i ever met you. i want every single damned reminder of everything we were pushed away, never to be discussed again. i want you locked away. and when i admit that to myself, i feel sleazy, cheap, and most disturbing, like a total failure. i thought i could will this relationship through anything. clearly, i cannot. and my god, that's the worst failure of them all.

"somewhere along the line i stepped off track, one step up and two steps back."

do what you have to do

[soundtrack]

"every moment marked with apparitions of your soul; i'm ever swiftly moving, trying to escape this desire..."
here we are again, separated by so much and so little all at once. you have no idea how much you consume my mind, how badly i want to own you, body, mind and soul, forever. you'll grant me a little of you, that's true. you spend time with me, you'll go places with me, hang out and laugh, and when it's convenient for you, you'll climb into my bed and do your level best to get as much out of me for as little of you as you can get away with. not that i don't very much enjoy that; quite the contrary. what you give me feels wonderful in the moment. you make me feel in the moment like the center of your universe. but, really, that's not true. and my god, this is starting to hurt. these walls you build around yourself may as well be a million miles high as far as i'm concerned, but you tell people how close we are like it's nothing to you. how true can that statement be?

"deep within i'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you..."
you've brokered these deals with everyone in your life, and the more i look at it, the more it makes no goddamn sense to me. we all get bits of you, some of us more than others, but you place heavy conditions on all of this. sometimes it wears on us to have to dance for you, my dear. sometimes, we get sick of humoring you. it's true. it would be nice to have more than a not-quite-as-equal-as-mutual admiration society with you. but that's what it is. and strangely enough, it's addicting to be under someone's sway like this. i must be the biggest goddamn masochist on the planet when it comes to you. how can you get in my head so much? i just can't stop. you're, honestly, not that good to me sometimes. and yet, here i sit, wishing like nothing else that you were here, holding me, even at arm's length.

"and i have the sense to recognize that i don't know how to let you go..."
i have devoted so much of my heart, my mind and my soul to trying like hell to convince you to give me a chance. when i broke your will and got into your bed - silly me, i thought that would be enough to get me into your heart. but that won't happen. not now, not ever. and i'm hurt beyond belief at this. i can't tell you, as if i ever would, how deeply this cuts me. you know how to do it; you've cut me before by accident. but this is pain i can't even express. i would walk to the ends of the goddamn earth for you, a thousand times over. i still will, and i will forever. as hurt and angry as this makes me, it doesn't change anything about that. i am so hopelessly devoted to you, in every sense of the word "hopeless." every sense but one, that is; i can't make myself believe that it's a totally lost cause. it is, mind you; i just can't make myself believe it. i still hold the germ of hope in my heart that someday, somehow, i can get you to be mine.

see, i care about you, my dear, a lot more than you know. and that makes us both pretty stupid.

"i know i can't be with you. i do what i have to do."

work

[your soundtrack]

"if you only once would let me, only just one time, then be happy with the consequence of whatever's gonna happen tonight..."
i think it was when your hand grazed my thigh that i knew what i was up against. i mean, it's not like this is something i didn't see coming. we've been down this road before. you have power, and you wield it well. you're a man among boys, just the way i like it. but there are a few small... concerns, i'll say, with all of this. no one's writing a romance novel or a taylor swift song about this one. if this goes down, it's going to be rough, it's going to be dark. there won't be blood, but it'll be close.

"don't think we're not serious. when's it ever not? the love we make is give and it's take; i'm game to play along..."
most people look at an opportunity like this as something recreational. we know better, you and i. sure, there's an element of fun about this. you'll have one hell of a time with me, honey, and you know it. but this isn't a game. there's potential to tear things that should never be torn, open up all manner of avenues that may not be good. you come with a list of complications a mile long. you've got secrets. some i know; others i'd never want to find out, i think. better this way. maybe we shouldn't get too close. it'll complicate things further. would the reward be worth the risk? that's your gamble, isn't it?

"i can't say i was never wrong, but some blame rests on you. work and play, they're never okay to mix the way we do..."
all my life, i've played games with this stuff, but never like this. i never got into the nuclear warhead theory of sex. it's not something i do. but this is a whole new level we find ourselves at, isn't it? you know, i could say you started this. loose lips don't just sink ships; they start conflagrations. ah, but it takes two to tango, to banter, to be wildly inappropriate in the most dangerous ways. i've never been as intrigued as i am with you. that's the part that gives me pause. i don't think i can stay in control of this, and i don't think you can either. we have the potential to create something so white-hot, so powerful, and so amazingly destructive that i don't think either one of us could ever harness that energy.

and yet, i just can't stop thinking about your hand on my thigh, your complete unwillingness to maintain the charade. you are reckless. you're crazy. and you've got my full and undivided attention. your move.

"can we take a ride? get out of this place while we still have time..."

lucky you

[your soundtrack]

"and every time you're driving home, way outside your safety zone, wherever you will ever be, you're never getting rid of me."
scars are funny things. most of the time, once the wound has healed and faded down to nothing but a pale shadow of itself, you don't even notice that there's anything left. but every so often, in passing, you notice that the skin that used to be so taut, so smooth, is now thick and irregular. the lines twist over your body, letting you know in no uncertain terms that you. are. changed. you'll never be the whole person you were before; those days are gone forever. it doesn't matter how long ago it happened, but when you notice that scar, you're instantly confronted with the trauma of whatever mauled you. even if the sting of the memory is infinitesimally brief, the sting still jolts you. not all scars are created equal, but all remind you of something you'd just as soon never dwell on again.

"you own me. there's nothing you can do; you own me."
the injured is forever tied to the injurer when the injury leaves a scar. no matter what you do, there's always a connection. when the scar is on the soul, the heart, or the mind, the tethers pull you together even harder. the shared experience of giving and receiving psychic pain creates an iron-clad union between the aggrieved and the menacing. even if you carry on the rest of your days without acknowledging it, there will be one day, when you least expect it, when the sorrow whipsaws through you, leaving you breathless, if only for a second.

"you could've made a safer bet, but what you break is what you get."
breaking someone's heart is never a simple task. there are repercussions far beyond the actual confrontation. maybe you pay for the act in the moment, or maybe you pay later. there's guilt, pain, shame, anger, and the inevitable feeling that you will never, ever be free of that person again, no matter how goddamn much you try. everyone you love, even in passing, gets bonded onto your heart in one way or another. breaking that bond isn't as simple as slicing something off and walking away. pieces rip. the honeybee's stinger is left in the victim's wound. the venom hits its target. the honeybee is torn in half. that's what breaking a heart is. you're left with a piece missing, and no matter how great the relief you may feel, there's the gaping maw left by the part of you that's no longer there.

"you wake up in the bed you make; i think you made a big mistake."
the silent - or not-so-silent - accusation of the lover scorned. it howls at you, nips at your heels at all times. you were right to end it. you are right to be gone. but that doesn't stop the doubts, the hurt, the memory of the wounded eyes staring at you in disbelief. shared love equals shared pain. breaking up is hard to do? heh. don't insult my intelligence. breaking up is murder. plain and simple. once you pull the shrapnel out of your body, shake off the shock of the explosion and collect the scattered debris of your life, you still carry the scars. it doesn't matter who pulls the pin. no one walks away a winner. that's why we stay in bad situations, we linger on with the weight of dead love settling harder onto our chests. the dull pain we know is far better than the unspeakable agony we can see around the corner. when you finally say "enough," when you move past the apathy and act, your reward is the endless connection to your failed past. there are no winners here. there can't be. all there can be is the slamming of a door, the tearing of a fabric, and the slow, throbbing trek towards... well, towards whatever lies ahead. you're changed, now and forever. take the change and move on.

"there's nothing you can do. you own me. you own me. lucky you."

human touch

[your soundtrack for today]

"i ain't looking for your prayers of pity; i ain't comin' 'round searching for a crush..."
you always make things so easy for me. i blow into town every now and again, turn your world upside down for a few days, then disappear. but you never complain. i'm loud, messy and, let's be honest, quite crazy. you spend your money on me, you spend your time on me. i guess you're getting something out of the deal too.

"i just want someone to talk to and a little of that human touch..."
or should i say that i KNOW you're getting something out of the deal. it's the perfect trade-off for a man, i would think: listen to her bitch and act weird for awhile, then take her clothes off. but it's funny; though it sounds totally one-sided (and kinda pathetic, really), i get everything i need from you. i don't need a promise, a vow, some great proclamation of devotion from you. that would actually wreck a really good thing.

"oh girl, that feeling of safety you prize, well, it comes with a hard, hard price..."
this is the devil's bargain i've made. you get your freedom, the most important thing in the world to you. i get just about everything i could want. almost. sometimes the ambiguity tears me up inside. you have this habit of doing things that would, if i didn't know you so well, make it seem like you want more from me. but you don't. i know this. i knew all along that you'd never go there with me in a million years, even though you know i'd cut myself open and bleed for you if you asked me. but you also know that you've got me forever, no matter what.

"you can't shut off the risk and the pain without losing the love that remains..."
so i don't shut it off. i come to this messy, risky adventure with arms wide open. bring it all on; i'm a big girl, i can handle it. i like to let you think i'm tough. i know you know better. but this? oh, this i can tough out for sure. there's enough good here to cancel out the danger, the sleepless nights. at the end of the day, i know where i stand with you. you have your reasons for the way you are. some of them i understand. a lot of them i don't. but just as you take me in spite of my insanity, i take you in spite of your circumspection. that's the way it is.

"you might need someone to hold onto when all the answers, they don't amount to much; somebody that you can just talk to and a little of that human touch..."
so i keep coming back. you do too, for your part. we dance this way time after time, giving everything we have to each other. well, almost. and if that's the cost for feeling this way, i'll pay it gladly. it's worth it.