tiny memoir: best of my love

a boy and a girl, too young to be married, much less parents, sit in the parked car around three in the morning following one of his shows. both are exhausted from the endless arguing and disappointments. he is smoking a cigarette. she is desperately trying to figure out what to say next, what to do to lift them from this suffocating place. the familiar acoustic strums of best of my love drift from the radio. the song, already over ten years old, isn't a favorite of either, but they both know all the words by heart. because eagles music softly accompanied the raising of kids in southern california in the 70s. she leans her face against the window and stares up at the night sky, his gaze falls straight ahead and they begin to sing along. there is a moment of lightness, the magnetic pull of a shared story, but as the music fades out, they both know that singing that song is the last thing they will do together.

sunshine day

my apologies in advance for the song-stuck-in-your-headedness that will occur when you click on this link.  this just fits my mood today.  i smile when i recall my ten-year-old self and her friends working tirelessly in the backyard to perfectly replicate the moves and lyrics (from memory; in the pre-videorecorder era).  sappy for sure, but that's how i do these days.

i hope you have brilliant sun today.

odd love song

when it comes to love songs, I tend toward the quirky and wordy. all that celine dion drama is a bit too heavy for me (even though I have enjoyed a grandiose voicy ballad here and there). since I started this love month, I've known I would post about love songs, so I've thought a lot about them, which ones resonate and why.

the narrowed-down list includes songs that aren't love songs per se, but songs that put me in the memory: the kiss, the dance, the drive down the coast, the fight, the heartbreak. yet I kept coming back to one song that wasn't a part of my own story but about remembering and longing and celebrating and moving on. I love this song for its poetry and its music and its connection to the freedom of youth. I love the video for its imagery...being solitary in your loneliness even while surrounded by friends...and the familiarity of the southern california house party. I love it because I've actually "drove out to the desert to lie down beneath a bowl of stars" and danced in the palace (now the avalon) with a boy I was wildly in love with. and, like most counting crows songs, it just seems so very intimate, flowing from a very personal experience.

okay, research time: what's your favorite love song? post a link if you'd like, I'm in the mood for some music.

p.s. did you see giada at the party (about 3/4 way in)?

past imperfect

so I've been thinking a lot about past loves. I have a few. I think I've mentioned it here before: that whole new love infatuation energy thing was my drug of choice for a good chunk of my young adulthood. it makes for a full, exciting, perfectly unstable history of relationship.

one thing I find fascinating about remembering past boyfriends, flings, crushes, etc, is the filter that develops over time. isn't it interesting how in the film-making industry of my memory, characters who in real life were dishonest and untrustworthy become romantic heroes? and then there is the one whose rejection sent me to my pillow for days with a knife in my heart and today I have to think hard to remember his last name and would gamble I wouldn't recognize him if I passed him in the street.

I love looking at my love history with a science-like approach. what purpose did each relationship serve? what need was being met? what elements of human development were being achieved? what were the lessons? did I learn them? did I teach them? what is the significance of the memories that remain front and center to this day?

one of the reasons I don't really appreciate valentine's day is that I find it troublesome to focus only one day a year on expressing love. this valentine's day I'm going to spend some time thinking about and honoring past loves, the good and the bad. a single day seems a really good amount of time to do this. without getting too willie nelson about the whole thing, I'll pay a sweet tribute to those who helped shaped who I am today as a wife, friend, mother, person.

this song pretty much sums it all up (and oh my god, how freakin' beautiful can a woman be?!). I especially love the words at the end:

thank you for breaking my heart.

thank you for tearing me apart.

now I'm a strong, strong heart.

thank you for breaking my heart.

~update~

leenie, you are so right! here's barbra rocking a sequined kaftan singing that song.

mosaic monday

who sings the soundtrack of your life?

sweet freedom whispered

today someone asked me my favorite song of all time. I don't think about this often, but when I do, I immediately hear the familiar pounding piano keys in my head. I see myself in the mint green bedroom of my adolescence, clad in dolphin shorts, my yosemite t-shirt, striped knee-high socks and giant cinnamon bun headphones, belting out the words in my best elton john falsetto: someone saved, someone saved, someone saved my life tonight.

I felt so freakin' british singing about east end lights. I wanted to be british so bad, it was my answer to the oft-asked question, what do you want to be when you grow up? I longed for the day that I could sit like a princess perched in an electric chair (while the electric chair experience has escaped me, I think I've captured that mood from time to time. I think I'll do it right now. try it yourself.). I could not wait to experience a haunted social scene. and later in my life, someone really did come in the morning with a truck to take me home (that's a whole other story...).

I don't know why at the tender age of eleven I instantly recognized the themes of salvation and redemption or why the notions of freedom and release and escape from captivity deeply resonated with me. in a weird way, the song prepared me for the day I really would have to walk away from a crazy love that just wasn't right for me.

like a butterfly, free to fly away.

have a listen and a look back at 70's elton. the way I loved him.

let's play twister

dear michael stipe:

you are still the coolest man alive. thank you for a great show. only you could rock 100 degree weather in an impeccably-cut charcoal grey pinstripe suit.

can't wait until next time. I'm still a little high...

love, lisa

(photo courtesy of flickr)

#remnc