4 posts tagged “romance”
Sometimes, I'm late to the musical party, and this song is one instance of that. I have liked Something Corporate and Jack's Mannequin for a while now, but I only finally heard this, one of the more infamous songs by SoCo, as the fangirls call them, in the last few months.
I'm in love with this version in particular. There's something about the delivery, about the moment, that breaks my heart and reminds me of timeless, epic love, the sort that withstands everything that the world throws at it. It reminds me of my grandparents and the love they shared, the love my grandmother keeps alive through her memories. It's the sort of love that can burn out if not tended carefully, as Andrew sings.
I worry and fear that my love will burn out, turn to ashes, leaving me dreaming in a living room, missing my own Konstantine. I worry this will be the story of my life, for I am a fire, always burning embers waiting to ignite with the right fuel. But if I become the one burned, a song this beautiful would win me back.
Dedicated to my Nanny....
Bravely you let go of my hand
I can't speak yet you understand
Where I go now I go alone
This path I walk these days of stone
[Chorus:]
I must go away
Wait for me here
Silently stay
And don't ask me why
Only believe
This is not good bye
All of my strength all my desire
Still cannot melt this breath of fire
I go to meet some kind of test
Bury the truth that scars my chest
And the angels are calling and calling
[Chorus]
I gathered all my courage
I shaved off all my fear
With this banner on my shoulder
I hold your essence near
And the angels are calling and calling and calling
[Chorus]
This Is Not Goodbye - Melissa Etheridge
And I hope that I will do no wrong
My eyes are on you, they're on you
And I hope that you won't hurt me
I'm dancing in the room as if I were in the woods with you
No need for anything but music
Music's the reason why I know time still exists..."
Dancing - Elisa
Mary introduced me to this song and it's one of those songs I drift from, only to return to it again and remember just how simple the melody is and yet its emotional richness spins complex webs about my heart and mind.
Dancing is a form of release, of fun, of freedom, as we learned in Footloose, but it's also intimacy and intensity, an exposure, a sense of trust placed in another. We allow another to lead and for those of us scarred and burned by the flame of passion, it's a giving over of control not to be undertaken lightly. And in the arms of a good person, a partner who loves with a purity and faithfulness that seems unreal, such is its rarity now, dancing is a way of finding refuge and home in the storm of life's woes.
Saturday, I spent hours in that refuge, and smiled more than I have in weeks. The storms gave way, if only briefly, to a glimmer of sunlight. I belonged somewhere.
If I were to be alone, silence would rock my tears
'Cause it's all about love, and I know better
How life is a waving feather..."
High school romances were characterized by several key factors: brevity (usually), half-informed fumblings on couches while the parents of latch-key children worked to afford a modest level of comfort, and the sway-slow-dances to 'our song'.
'Our song'... It sometimes felt to me as if half of my 'relationships' were spent trying to select a song. By the time I reached 17, I'd begun to realize that the only relationships I'd had work out well were ones where I didn't have 'a song' with my mate. Either that, or Bon Jovi was cursed. Being an 80's baby caught in her teens at the resurgence of popularity the band experienced with the release of Keep The Faith and, later, These Days, I'd had 4 different Bon Jovi songs with 4 different guys, all of whom would likely deny ever listening to the band despite they being the ones selecting the songs (and serenading me with them), and they'd all ended horribly (a stalker, a would-be date rapist, and two horrible cheaters). I soon decided not to ever choose songs, since it always led to the tainting of a song that I enjoyed. Music being my lifeblood and my preferred form of creating an autobiography, I refused to lose any other casualties to the sonic war.
And then, years later, I found myself engaged at 25, in a relationship for 3 years without a song. Every couple has 'their dance' at a wedding, and I of course wanted mine. But to what song? There was no song playing when we'd met, when we'd kissed, when we'd first had sex. My fiance seldom took me dancing, to my dismay (while I don't go often, every few months I do enjoy cutting loose on the dance floor). After rummaging through my catalogue of 5000 MP3s, I settled on a few options and played them for my betrothed, with him finally settling down on Dance With You by Live. It seemed fitting, and it's a song I've long cherished as one of the most beautiful and honest descriptions of love in its purest form.
I thought I had that love. And then said love left shortly after for a bridesmaid. The curse began anew. I shunned a song that was once a 'desert island track' for a full year, because it had become a ticking time bomb exploding into lemon-drenched papercuts upon my soul.
And then, I decided to fight back. The song wasn't to blame for what had happened. None of these poor songs were. How could they have known what would happen? How could I have known? I had always listened to them with the best intentions, with genuine feelings and cliched swooning. Why give someone who has broken your heart, who has taken up your time without dessert, anything else that is precious?
I began to see the music as a reflection of the relationships themselves: horrid situations in which I attempted to become human origami and fold myself into a box that would never hold me. I continuously attempted to change my thoughts, my actions, my emotions and my personality to suit someone else's demands, instead of simply loving unconditionally and being loved in kind. And such relationships ultimately fail, because we are who we are. Our melodies, our words, our intents and our deliveries are what make us unique. All of life is a song, and we must sing to our keys, to our ranges, and to nothing else.
My current boyfriend and I have a song, but it is one with significance: it was part of a playlist we listened to when we finally kissed and became inseparable. For once, my song was not agonized over, bargained for or selected based on a top twenty countdown. It means something to us, and symbolizes all we have so far and all I look forward to. It is the personal ringtone that plays when he calls, and the first few notes bring a smile to my face without fail. But even if things fall apart, the song will still be beautiful and it will join the others in a playlist of memories of lessons learned and moved forward from.
What are your songs, past and present? Do you still listen to them? Have you experienced similar curses?
A playlist, of my songs, past and present:
http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=45F0FC92A35E7B61
