I played and they listened and it felt good.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Performance, Thoughts and Feelings
as coffee shop, concept, dark chocolate, dissatisfaction, ennui, former, gone baby gone, idea, joy, kind, Line, noisemakers, nothingness, rejection, sad song, sarah mclachlan, shop, song, way, white coffee
So I got turned down tonight.
Twice.
Oh, but don’t worry. It wasn’t in the rejection kind of way; it was actually in the “It’s just that you project really loud” kind of way. Or so I was told. And no, it wasn’t the first time that I’ve heard that.
And actually, I had a really good time playing some of my songs at a nice, orange and white coffee shop down in Dover tonight. There happened to be quite a crowd, which kind of surprised me. But really, anything would have surprised me, since I had no idea what to expect. And people actually listened, too. I felt a little bad for everyone about halfway through my set, though, because I had been singing little sad song after sad little song, so decided to throw in Ice Cream by Sarah Mclachlan. You know, spruce the feel of the room up with a song that compares love to chocolate and how the former really is better than the latter.
But really, it depends on whose love we’re talking about.
And then you have to factor in the kind of chocolate we’re talking about.
Anyway.
Then I got to the line, everybody here knows how to cry…and I was like, Oh well, I tried to make us all happy; really, I did. But you know what? You can’t have the one without the other, anyway. I mean, would we understand the concept of light without seeing the dark, too? Would our joy mean so much if we didn’t remember how it felt when we thought life had gone, baby, gone? That it had taken its parties and its songs and even those stupid, loud noisemakers that bugged you, but hey! at least you heard something then; and even though you found them noisome, at least the sounds registered to your brain, something that only happens to those of us who are alive. Because that–that was better than this slow and steady nothingness; this all-the-time less than ennui, even–because at least that is a dissatisfaction, which generally motivates us to try harder. But now, no. You’re done trying. You lost the point of it all sometime last month and you hide in your brother’s old room while your pop makes you a sandwich because he thinks you’re getting dangerously thin and you think that the whole idea is to disappear and why can’t anybody just let you be a magician already and perfect your disappearing act?
Because of love, that’s why.
And all of that–it’s a powerful contrast to joy. And now when joy comes my way, I recognize it with a sense of humility because I know that it’s not a common thing. And you want to stay, you say? Well then, I am indeed the luckiest girl in the world.
So yes, joy and crying.
Together, they help us to see each more clearly, I think.
And at the end of my set, I played a pretty sad song that I’ve written recently. I looked up halfway through to see a new-ish friend of mine–one who has lived her own story that has a few similarities to mine–and she was crying. And then I had to focus–I had to think about baseball or something–cause I was about ready to join her in letting those tears fall. But I needed to finish the song first.
Which is not a bad kind of way to live life, maybe. I will cry, sure, but I’d like to just finish my song first, if you don’t mind.
Normal is good. So is extraordinary. And so is a great white shark.
in Funny Stuff, I Lift My Eyes Up, Loved Ones, Thoughts and Feelings
as clap my hands, dark chocolate, great white shark, swedish girls, white shark
Oh! I get to ride one of the double decker trains into the city.
This makes me so happy, I could clap my hands. Not every train is a double decker, you know. And so I must make the most of this.
I wonder if the Swedish girls who are a few seats ahead of me and talking loudly realize that these kinds of trains are not exactly commonplace. I wonder if they realize that THEY are not exactly commonplace. I hope the answer is yes on both counts.
There was a man who asked me for some money while I was waiting in the train station. I was alone. Well, I was until he came up to me, that is–and I tend to be skittish when I am alone at night, in unfamiliar places. And so I didn’t even let him finish his question before I quietly said no and walked away. I feel badly about these kinds of things. If I had not been alone, I would have listened. If he had been a woman, I would have listened. I suppose I have heard too many sad stories and I have too many things to do instead of becoming one more.
Still, I always walk away from these scenarios feeling guilty and scared. I usually try not to let either of those feelings motivate me, but in these cases, the fear wins.
I am now two for two in terms of days in which I’ve had a migraine. I don’t understand why this is. At my doctor’s request, I have spent time in the past trying to figure out what, exactly triggers them, but the common triggers are things like dark chocolate and red wine. Have I mentioned that I hate dark chocolate and red wine? I know, I might have to give back my Woman Card for this, but it’s true.
I’m hoping tomorrow comes and goes without a migraine. I will be sure to stay away from dark chocolate and red wine, just like I do every other day of my life.
Pretty soon I get to hang out with some of my roommates and dear friends from ACL. Ian and David make me laugh and we are all pretty good at making fun of this wonderful thing called life. You can do that when you love something, you know. Tease it. And so we give life a hard time, but only because it knows that deep down, we are grateful.
I am selling my wedding dress; I hope somebody buys it. It’s quite beautiful and I cannot help but feel sorry for the poor thing. It is not its fault. The fact that it’s a fraud now, I mean. There has been so much collateral damage as a result of last fall and winter that it should just feel a part of the club, but still. It’s a very pretty thing and I hope it can go on and have a better life with someone else.
I arrive in the city in forty five minutes now, and I feel sort of excited. I don’t feel very excited much these days, but my therapist says this is normal. She also says it’s temporary and I think this one of the few situations when I am grateful to hear that word pertaining to my life.
So many things are temporary when they shouldn’t be. But me feeling only kind of excited when I remember feeling very excited–I don’t mind this being temporary at all.
My therapist says I’m normal; my friends say I’m extraordinary, despite what has happened to me. Both are so kind and I try to listen to their words and let them build me up like the ladder my brothers and I would climb from our lookout, as we guarded our fort. Perhaps that ladder will allow me to climb and I will find the vantage point that’s nice and high. The far-seeing one.
And now I will leave you with a few lyrics. Darby, my niece lyric, and I sang a new little song the other night in the darkened church. Darby was at the piano and Lyr and I were snuggled on the ground. And we sang:
Special, three special ones in the dark.
Special, special like a great white shark.
So spread your fins and swim;
Swim till the water’s edge–
Because we’re special.
Oh and then we laughed and the church reverberated with the sounds of three special ones laughing and I think it was not so unlike praise and I think god rather enjoyed the sound of it.
