Holding On to a Distant Star...

Wow... it's been awhile. Maybe this is the only writing committment I can actually stick to. Just pick one song a day and write a little blurb about it. Since, between the two jobs I barely have any time and I'm always SO tired it probably will be utter crap writing but... at least I'm writing?

Funny how this morning I purposefully chose some pretty depressing songs on iPod while driving into work because I just felt like, "what is the POINT?" Why am I busting my ass for an institution that has made it quite clear that I have no chance for upward mobility? Why do I slave away for kids who clearly do no give a shit? Why am I always the one with a work ethic that far exceeds my paltry paycheck? Why, in a world full of struggling students and apathetic teachers can someone with my drive and determination not find a full-time teaching job?!?

These are the worries that flooded my brain and made me thank God that driving to work is something I can essentially do on mental auto-pilot. If my brain actually needed to be involved, I would've been lost or in a ditch. I think part of me wanted to end up in a ditch so that I didn't have to go to work.

The worst part is, I feel there is no one to talk to about how I'm feeling. I can't burden my boyfriend anymore especially because he worries about me enough when he's away from home AND he has his own crap going on at work. Furthermore, where did all the friends go that I used to confide in? That's a whole nother post for a whole nother day!

Finally, my iPod schuffled and sent me its own little version of a life-line. A tiny ray of hope on a dark morning drive came in the form of a Duffy song.

Have you ever heard Distant Dreamer? When I discovered that song back during last summer I thought to myself: "this is it!" This song is exactly how I feel about there being something better waiting out there. I used to jam to that song, with the windows all rolled down as I sped up to 80 mph or more on the 290 expressway. I flew by the cars and pretended it would be just as easy to fly by all my troubles. I figured, it's gotta get better than this!

I was so completely convinced that the distant star I was holding on to was within my reach. I had finally freed myself from the clutches of the past. I was living with an amazing man who loved me despite all the baggage and emotional scars. I was going to be teaching again (well substitute teaching). But somehow, it doesn't seem nearly as close anymore as it did then.

But I guess I gotta keep remembering Duffy's words, "when life gets tough, I feel like giving up... I hold on to a distant star!"

It's distant. I'm a distant dreamer. The thing that keeps people like Duffy and myself separate from everybody else is our ability to keep reaching for that star no matter how far away it may seem. I just need to remember that.

Wendy's Story Part 1

Inspired by Bruce Springstein's "Born to Run"

Wendy's father was a simple man who loved very few things in this world none more than his only child. He ran a bar down by the waterfront that kept a steady business catering to a regular crowd of hard working Irishmen. Wendy's father - though as Irish as they come - only worked hard at two things: brewing his homemade beer and betting on horses. Unfortunately, he was only very good at the first of those two things. But Wendy's father never cared too much about making money and the losses he incurred at the racetrack were never enough to cripple the spirit of the friendly neighborhood brewer. Wendy's mother, however, left them both when Wendy was still a baby because she was fed up with the gambling that never allowed the little family to get ahead.

In short, Wendy's whole world was her father. She took naps in the bar back room as a toddler while her father brewed his batches and sat with her dolls on the counter while her father served his loyal customers every evening. Life might have continued on in this simple way if it weren't for the ambitions of one young Irish mobster who was willing to do anything to make a name for himself. He was known only as Mack and the summer Wendy turned 7 years old, he inadvertently started a chain of events that would define the rest of Wendy's life.

"Why should I trust you, ya dirty lying Mick? What's in it for you?" The air in the room was heavy with cigar smoke and cheap cologne. The sweaty, rotund mafioso stopped his staggered pacing and turned to face the young Irishmen sitting across the room in a large wing-back chair. The other Italians stopped whispering to themselves and also starred at the lone Irish in his pseudo throne. Though he was alone, the Irishmen was not afraid. He had the Italians on his turf and even if this underground deal went sour, his people would have vengeance.

But, he told himself again, this will not go sour.

The Irishmen took a long drag from him cigar and contemplated the doughnuts he puffed into the air. When the silence began to feel uncomfortable he spoke. "What's in it for me? Joey, I'm surprised you have to ask that? You should know as well as I do that neither my boss nor yours appreciates an outsider siphoning off a portion of our hard earned revenue."

"You think we consider some potato-picking Irish fuck competition?" Joey retorted.

The Irishmen's nostrils flared slightly but he regained composure quickly and attacked from a different angle. "Point taken, my friend. The majority of customers at this fine, family owned establishment are simple Irishmen like myself. However, the one thing we can't deny is - the homemade brew is delectable. The old timer refuses to give up his secret recipe and even some of your Italian brethren have made the trek to our side of town to sample it. Let's not let this get out of hand. You help us remove this thorn in our side before it becomes a real issue... and we'll make sure the good ol' bartender leaves you his property in his will."

Now it was Joey's turn to react with slightly raised eyebrows. "Your boss is willing to give up a piece of property near the water for a beer recipe? I gotta try this shit."

"And so you shall," the Irishmen replied. "Do we have a deal?"

"Sure thing, Mick. Lead the way."

And lead the way he did. The Irishmen lead the Italians down to Kennedy's Pub one of the last pieces of property down by the water that the Irishmen's boss hadn't yet appropriated. The Irishmen waited outside and lit a cigar as the Italians kicked open the door of the pub which was not yet open for business. He listened as Wendy's father begged to be spared and a slow smile crept over his face. After the sound of a couple shots were fired, he came through the door and heard Joey say, "That was easy. We should do business with this Mick more often."

The Irishmen pulled out his own gun and quickly dispatched of Joey's two henchmen. "The name is Mack, actually, and I don't think we'll be doing anymore business," is all he said as he put a bullet between Joey's eyes. The heavy Italian fell to the floor with a thud and the look of utter surprise stayed on his face even in death.

Soon, it was Mack's turn to look surprised when a young girl came out from behind the bar covered in blood.

"Why darling, are you hurt?" Mack's voice was full of genuine concern as he knelt in front of the child. His perfectly composed plan had not considered the possibility of any causalities. When the little girl looked his eyes she said nothing but the fear and anguish were clearly present in her bright green eyes. A quick assessment of the girl's body made it clear that the blood was not her own and Mack realized that this must be the old bartender's daughter. Mack had assumed that the bartender would have a daughter closer to his own age of 19 and he was quite taken aback by the presence of a girl who couldn't possibly be even 10 years old. So, the master of schemes found himself improvising and the snap decision would forever change his life and the young girl before him.

"I'm so sorry I didn't make it in here in time, darling. Is your father... well, is he gone?"

The girl just nodded and a curly red strand of hair fell across her face. Mack gently brushed the hair away as the little girl once again look into his eyes. Only one tear slid silently down the girl's freckled cheek and then with great effort she swallowed back the rest.

"He's dead. Those men shot him dead."

"Yes, they killed your father and now I killed them. These men, these Italians," Mack said gesturing towards the dead bodies, "they wanted to take your father's bar. But they're dead now, and I won't let anyone else hurt you. Okay? You're safe now... with me." Mack stood up and held out his hand and the little girl took it, pulling herself up off the bloody floor.

"Can I bring my doll with me?"

Mack smiled indulgantly at his new charge. "Of course, we will bring all of your things. Don't worry, darling, Mack here is going to buy you all the dolls you could ever want, alright? Now, where is this doll? And, what is your name, my dear?"

"Upstairs Mack. We lived upstairs... and my name is Wendy. Wendy Kennedy."

TO BE CONTINUED...

It's Really All About Power... and Secrets...

I'm reading a new book called Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity and I can't help but laugh to myself and say, "hey, I guess I don't have to write it now, someone else already did."

Seriously, it's a very well-written account that I think speaks to all women on some level. It's not really about sex. It's about that raw, aching need to feel needed - to feel lovable - that drove this particular teen/young woman to seek comfort from men in the wrong way. But it's more than just the need, it's also about the power. I love that the author doesn't shy away from admitting that sex is power and that by choosing to give herself freely to boys of her choosing she was really trying to feel like she had some power over them... she could let them insider her or not.

While reading this book I keep finding myself thinking of that song "Dirty Little Secret" by The All American Rejects. I seriously loved this song in college. Well, I still love this song. It's one of those tunes that can instantly transport me back in time whenever I catch it on the radio. I could be driving to work or the mall and BOOM... I hear this song and it's like I'm walking down Campus Walk with my iPod blaring and a sneaky little smirk on my lips as I think about the lyrics to this song and how they make me feel......powerful.

It took me a minute to decide how exactly I felt but there it is: powerful. Just as the girl in my new book tried desperately to feel in control of her life by using her sexual power over the boys in her life, I also spent so much time getting high of the rush of the powerful feeling that comes from attracting and fighting to keep male attention. It's a humbling thing to admit this.

I used to believe I was so much better than all these girls who lured boys in with their shorts skirts and suggestive comments but then held out until they could call themselves someone's "girlfriend." I thought, 'what's the point? He's still gonna leave you as soon as he's bored... why not just call it what it is?' I guess I figured that as long as I could convince myself and everyone else that the sex, the partying, etc. were all on MY terms then that meant that I had the power. Somehow I convinced myself that I had taken ownership of my own sexual destiny and therefore none of these boys had any power over me. I suppose for awhile that was true. I wasn't a constant ball of need like the girl in this book. I felt like fucking Superwoman... although, that could just be the mania talking.

Bipolar makes things just a little bit more complicated. It's like, if I ever write my memoirs, every young girl who reads them will have to remember that it's all with a 'grain of salt' so to speak. It's a very large, looming, manic-depressive grain of salt. I was never just a product of divorce college-aged female looking for love in all the wrong places. That story is actually too simple to explain me. I was proudly dancing on top of washing machines with a handle of vodka in one hand one weekend and then perhaps just days or hours later I could be listening to depressing songs on repeat and scribbling away in my journal about how lonely and desolate the world really is... and maybe that doesn't sound that extreme. There are those who have had it way worse than me, that's for sure.

But let's get back to "Dirty Little Secret," shall we? I think I'll even listen to it just to remind myself of the feeling. Ah, there it is, those opening chords and that incessant drum beat and then the lyrics something like:

"when we live such fragile lives, it's the best way we survive

going around a time or two, just to waste my time with you..."

So, was I the dirty little secret? Were the guys I hooked-up with my secrets? Well, at such a small college it was really impossible to have ANYONE be a secret LOL. But sometimes things don't come out right away. Sometimes, there's that added little thrill at walking home alone knowing that if anyone is out and they see you they'll know for sure that this is a sure fire 'walk of shame' but will they know with whom you were wasting your time?

I guess this song really makes me think about the last couple weeks of couple before graduation. Something really changed for me after the "100 Days Till Graduation" Casino Night celebration. That night, I thought that my date was finally someone who would actually want something more from me than just a college hook-up. I had decided to let myself care. I was quickly reminded why I did not care. Caring is messy. Caring equals disappointment and pain. So, what's a girl to do? Jump back into the fray with full force was my answer. It was a very potent combination of 'omg, I'm almost done with college' and 'see, this is what happens when you let down your guard!'

So, I went back to playing things by guys' rules. I had some friends - guy friends even, if you'll believe that - who asked me point blank why I didn't think I deserved better. Why wasn't I holding out for something more?

"I just wanna have some fun," I said. "Listen, college is almost over and then we all go off to the real world and this just becomes a memory of crazy times. I want to always know that I did whatever I wanted when I had the chance before I have to be a grown-up. So, don't worry about me, OK?"

Sure sounds like I had it all figured out, right?

So... what the fuck happened? LOL

Until next time, this is Megs reminding you that it's all just an exchange of power... sex, money and power. It's all the same, and try as you might, a dirty little secret never stays secret for long.

When You've Seen Both Sides of Everything...

If you've never seen the movie "Life as a House" with Kevin Kline, I must insist that you do right away. I can't even begin to explain how that movie moves me. I mean, for one, Kevin Kline is simply amazing no matter what role he's playing. Furthermore, the depth of emotion in the scope of this film is beyond compare - in my humble opinion.

So, in case you're wondering if this has suddenly become a movie blog... let's get back to the music, shall we? The main song on the "Life as a House" soundtrack is Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now." I think that song is featured in almost as many movies as "Clair de Lune" which was previously featured on my blog. I wonder if there are any other songs that can possibly compare to these two songs in their emotional resonance with me no matter where I am in my life.

I feel as if I've seen everything from 'both sides now' and maybe it fits me so perfectly because of the bipolar aspect of my nature but... every time I hear this song I want to weep at the dual nature of everything in life. I am amazed at the beautiful simplicity of how she begins with looking at the clouds and goes from reminiscing about imagining shapes in the clouds as a child but then her viewpoint changes and the clouds just become a road block - something between her and the sunny dreams of a more naive girl she once was.

"So many things I would've done, but clouds got in my way..." That line used to haunt me as I thought about all the dreams I'd made and abandoned with each passing year of my life. I have always hated my endless ambition coupled with such a lack of self-discipline. This is the real tragedy of my life: so much potential and promise and yet I feel like I have so little to show for it all. Maybe that is me being too harsh on myself and yet... *shrug* I've seen clouds from both sides and still I can't decide what's truth and what's illusion.

Then, she sees both sides of Love. Sometimes I think I am one of the most qualified people alive to speak to the duality of Love. I have felt the most amazing heights of passion and the deepest darkest depths of sadness with the same lover in the same hour. That is not even an exaggeration. Still, do I even do justice to my own memories of Love? Do I remember the truth as it transpired or do I remember it the way I wanted it to be or the way my depression made me perceive it to be? It's so hard to tell and it's impossible to know.

"Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels. The dizzy dancing way you feel as every fairy tale comes real: I've looked at love that way..."

Will I ever look at Love that way again? I worry that I may not be able to anymore. Or more accurately, I know I never will feel the same way I did again and although I know that I'll probably be healthier for it, I am worried about how my addicted heart will handle "emotional rehab." You see, I have always been a bit of a love addict. I have always surpassed normal, happy-in-love and gone straight to 'strung-out and obsessed' love. It is dizzy and dancing and when you get your fix it's like nothing else in the world but... no one can keep that up. No one can be expected to supply you with an endless dose of passionate, romantic, mind-blowing love. And when the stash runs dry......... there are no words to describe the desperation and despair.

So, is it Life's illusions that I recall? Do I really not know Life at all?

Maybe Joni was really onto something here. Do any of us really know anything about life? Maybe it's enough to recall the illusions of our lives. Maybe, when we come to the end, all that will matter is the impressions that life left upon us. Maybe love and life and the clouds aren't meant to be understood or analyzed. I liked clouds a lot better when I didn't understand the geology behind them.

All I know now is that I need to find a way to get into words my love experiences... in particular, my most recent relationship before the one I am currently in now. I don't know if I can try and say "what I've learned" because that's bull shit. All I can do is present the facts and my feelings to the best of my ability and if someone else can learn something from them... great. But I need to get the words out. There was just so much that happened and listening to Joni Mitchell on repeat just isn't enough.

Do ya'll out there have any songs that you listen to over and over again when you just can't find any other way to release the pain, anguish, or passion inside? Share them here with me!

Untill next time, this is Megs promising to write from now on every Monday. I can handle a once a week commitment, yes? Wish me luck and keep listening to the tunes that make you feel something real.

The First Tumbleweeds Spotted in Boston

Does anybody else remember that song "Boston" by Augustana that was on the radio like 500 times a day when it first came out? I swear, sometimes I would actually take the super slow long way home in the car just in case that song was going to come on. It was magically appropriate for just about any mood I might find myself in before it started playing. I think what I loved best about it was how it's not really about Boston at all.

I've only ever been to Bean Town once - my second oldest brother and his wife were living there at the time and Mommy, Ken, and I went to visit. My step-dad was just as excited to see his son as he was to show off the town and all it's potential colleges to me. I was not at all interested in Boston College or University... the two that are right in the heart of the city. We were just driving through town and all of sudden my brother said, "well that's BC (or the other one, I forget)," and I'm excitedly looking out the window saying, "where?" Then, to my great dismay, I realized that it blended right in with everything else. Not exactly the dream I had for college.

As an undergraduate I wanted something with an enclosed campus feel. I wanted something small and friendly. That's exactly what I got, too. Now, as a graduate student at Hunter College in none other than NYC, I find myself experiencing that "just a part of the city" feel that I so did not want when I was college hunting in Boston. New York City is my "Boston."

That's what I mean about the song by Augustana. When I hear that song - even now - I remember being back in my hometown after graduating with a B.A. in 3 years at my small, Southern University. I remember how I was back "home" at my parents' house and I didn't feel at home at all. I was in this strange limbo. All my friends were still in undergrads and loving life. I was working dead-end jobs and trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do with myself. Whenever "Boston" came on the radio I would take a deep breath and remind myself that I wouldn't always be stuck. I would calmly tell myself that I couldn't just pick-up and leave that very day, that very hour... I would remind myself that I needed a plan. My "Boston" would come and I'd be ready to go.

Then, I applied for grad school. Just like when I applied to University of Mary Washington for my undergraduate degree, when I applied to Hunter College it was the only place I submitted an application to. All my eggs in one basket, so to speak. I might not like to gamble in casinos, but I have been known to take some pretty big risks in my life. It was NYC or bust and I did it! It wasn't quite the dramatic reinvention of myself I had planned but... I got out of my "stuck" place and I did find "a new town to leave it all behind..."

Sometimes, I still get that feeling - not just when I hear that song either. I worry that I have too much wanderlust in me. Well, I used to worry about it. I used to think that it meant I couldn't have all the things I always said I wanted. I thought that my inner restlessness would mean that I'd be perpetually dissatisfied with home and husband and family. I thought that's what I was supposed to want. I thought I was supposed to settle down and channel my energies into teaching and raising kids and keeping house.

But maybe it doesn't have to be a choice you make. I've found someone who has been bitten with the same bug I tried to deny. I've found my tumbleweed - and tumbleweeds mate for life, you know. Seriously, they attach themselves to each other and are free to go where the wind takes them cause it will take them together.

Just because you want to tumble, doesn't mean you have to tumble alone. There will always be another "Boston" and it's possible that you can "leave things all behind" while still taking the best part with you: your tumbleweed partner.

A Tribute to a Collective Life Soundtrack Moment

When I was in high school, I went to 4 proms. This probably sounds like a lot, especially to people like my boyfriend who never even went to his own senior prom. Honestly, my high school sweetheart and I each went to different schools that were the kind of suburban high schools that have both a junior and a senior prom so... going to 4 proms really was just expected for me.

Going to prom more than once means that you get to enjoy the process of finding "the dress" more than once, you get to go in multiple limos, have multiple garters removed from you... but most importantly: you get more than one PROM SONG!

I would therefore like to dedicate this post to the wonderful world of prom songs.

The first prom I went to was my high school sweetheart's junior prom when I was a sophomore. I still have the enormous shot glass (that, of course, was called a bud vase because high school events can't give out drinking paraphernalia) which is emblazoned with a couple dancing under the stars and the words "Chances Are." That song - sung as a duet by Bob Seger and Martina McBride - was a big hit at the time because of the movie "Hope Floats" and I think it was a pretty good choice. I can still remember being so happy to see how the dance floor seemed to get fuller than it had all night long when the official prom song came on. How can you not want to dance to the official song, right? And the best part... because the song was so popular on the radio, my date and I each new all the words and were unabashedly singing to each other. How romantic?!

My school had a different thought when it came to junior prom. My school's student council felt that junior prom was more the prom that's about friends while senior prom is more reserved for the romantic moments. So for my junior prom, the song that was chosen was "I'll Stand By You" which is originally by The Pretenders. The link I've chosen is from the TV show Glee. I picked this version of the song because although it wasn't from my prom, I can never think of this song the same way again after seeing it sung by the character Finn to his unborn child... well, he believes it is his anyways and I must admit I cried when I watched this! Who wouldn't want a man with that kind of passion and sensitivity to be the father of their child? Oh wait... Quinn is a little cheating bitch and the baby is really Puck's!!!

Okay, if you don't watch Glee, I apologize for that digression. Back to prom, I must admit that I sadly do NOT remember my high school sweetheart's senior prom song. I know he said he stuffed the ballot box at his school with our song - "Everything I Do (I Do It For You)" - but all I remember is they picked something else. It was very awesome though when a bunch of us couples abandoned our slow dancing to form a big swaying circle together!

Finally, we'll get to my senior prom. Honestly, my senior prom was my least favorite prom of all - probs cause it's the only one I went to sans date. But, the song that was chosen was definitely perfect for seniors saying goodbye! That last prom of mine was all about "Please Remember" by LeAnn Rimes. Of course, it was probably thee most depressing song EVER for a dateless girl whose own high school sweetheart was no more because he went off to college a year before I did. So what did I do? I actually ended up dancing with another girl's date to this song! LMAO In all fairness, they were just there as friends and she was nowhere to be found when the song came on! AND the guy I asked (who said he wasn't going) showed up with some skankaliscious junior who wore what looked like a giant sparkly starfish on her head! :-P So There!!!

I am now officially laughing at my high school self and I hope you are too! Until next time, this is Megs reminding you to look back on yourself and the music that made those special moments just a little bit more memorable.

Shaggy Taught Me To Dance... But He Scared The Boys Away

Do we have any Shaggy fans out there? Yes? No? Come on! You know you've got "It Wasn't Me" stuck in your head at some point. Or maybe you even found yourself trying to like half slow dance half bebop to "Angel" at a middle or high school dance? OK I'm really showing my age with that comment aren't I? *smirk*

Well, if you are within 5-7 years of my age in either direction you can probably remember when Shaggy was suddenly all over the Top 40 airways. "It Wasn't Me" was totally that song that as a girl you were probably supposed to be embarrassed about being caught singing along to unless of course you were one of my preteen friends! I bet if KiDDo or Donny are reading this they are laughing their asses off remembering Activity Nights in Middle School when we all practically peed ourselves laughing while half scream/singing the lyrics "both butt naked banging on the bathroom floor." Lyrical genius, that is.

As for "Angel," who didn't have a friend (or maybe it was you) who decided this would be "their song" with some unsuspecting boy? As I alluded to before, the worst was when they played this at dances. Getting a boy to slow dance with you was hard enough with traditional slow songs that enable the ever popular "penguin sway." This not quite fast but not really slow either "love song" was enough to scare boys away from the dance floor for years! Talk about AWKWARD!

These are the Shaggy songs I'm sure many of you remember... but I was really inspired to write this post because of a song that I'm willing to bet is far less known. I'm talking about "That Girl." To be honest, I can't tell you what on Earth made my mother buy the Maxi Priest featuring Shaggy single of this song... but I'm not exaggerating when I say this song plays an all important role in a life changing event for me!

This song was the catalyst that taught me how to dance. My mother, being the very clever woman that she is, decided to suggest I teach her how to dance while Shaggy was playing in the background. So right in the middle of our kitchen, I endeavored to enlighten my mother with some of my smooth 9 year old moves! Naturally, my mother did her best to mimic my awkward movements with slight variations (like actually follow the beat of the song for example) and proceeded to say "like this?" Soon enough, I was actually following along with the music (SHOCKER!) and, as Mom says, my "white man's disease" was cured!

Btw, if anyone finds the above phrase offensive... you really shouldn't. It's really just admitting to the superior dancing prowess of pretty much EVERYONE who isn't Caucasian. And if you aren't laughing... if you think I'm like a real non PC bitch... sucks to be you cause you obviously have NO sense of humor! :-P

Until next time, this is Megs saying keep on grooving even if you don't have rhythm and even if the songs show your age! Also, be sure to leave your comments about the songs that bring back your memories.

P.S. If you have any requests for a song you'd like me to write about... LEAVE IT IN THE COMMENTS!