Life in a Northern Town

A couple of windblown bike fans check out the goods in Boulder

This is one of the many old tunes that my love and I heard on our recent trip to the mountains (and to your right is one of the my favorite photos of our adventures):

A Salvation Army Band played
And the children drunk lemonade
And the morning lasted all day, all day
And through an open window came
Like Sinatra in a younger day
Pushing the town away, ah

Ah hey ma ma ma
Ah hey ma ma ma hey
Life in a northern town
Ah hey ma ma ma...

An old fave of both of ours, we sang it together while driving through the mountain passes in our sporty little rental Jetta. It was fun to get away together, fun to see old friends, fun to ski (really ski, in the mountains), but it wasn't much fun coming home. It was dreary and gray when we arrived, and what we were faced with when we returned was continuing to separate our lives to a greater degree.

Thanks goodness the snow started to fall last night as we spent our last night together for a while. The blanket of white felt like a clean, fresh start...

Closer

There's a rage inside me that I'm just starting to be more comfortable acknowledging, and I saw it again today. It is an urge to destroy, to burn, to rip... It comes out when things aren't going the way I want them to with men. I have so much anger about how I was treated and what I was taught as a young girl, and sometimes it just comes brimming to the surface. I don't indulge it, except in productive, controlled ways, but I also don't ignore it, or pretend it doesn't exist, or even that it shouldn't exist. That little girl has a right to be mad.

As does Trent Reznor, a man who brings anger to music like few others:

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

(Help me...)

I broke apart my insides

(Help me...)

I've got no soul to sell

(Help me...)

The only thing that works for me

Help me get away from myself...

...And lots of other nasty lyrics that I don't want to repeat here. This song may help express my anger, and it may give some clues about what I've been through, but it doesn't express where I'm going with my anger or pain.

Because I've got a soul. It's not for sale. And the thing that works best for me is to help me get back to myself, and that's exactly what I intend to do...

I Have Nothing

That's right. It's now the third day of me marking my days with Whitney. I didn't plan it. I'm not sure how much longer it will go on. All I know is I woke up (too) early this morning with the chorus of this song going through my head:

Share my life, take me for what I am

'Cause I'll never change all my colors for you

Take my love, I'll never ask for too much

Just all that you are and everything that you do

I don't really need to look very much further

I don't want to have to go where you don't follow

I won't hold it back again, this passion inside

I can't run from myself, there's nowhere to hide

Don't make me close one more door

I don't wanna hurt anymore

Stay in my arms if you dare

Or must I imagine you there

Don't walk away from me

I have nothing, nothing, nothing

If I don't have you, you, you, you, you

You see through, right to the heart of me

You break down my walls with the strength of your love

I never knew love like I've known it with you

Will a memory survive, one I can hold on to?

Love this woman. Love this song. Not super fond of the way my V-day is starting out, but I do know that I have a lot more than nothing even if I don't have him, and I also know that I still do sorta have him. Probably at least as much as I did before this separation... it just doesn't always feel that way.

But that's ok. Whether you're with your love or not, Valentines, hearts open, please!

Star-Spangled banner

This morning on the way to work, I found a radio station playing a Whitney montage, which was just the catalyst I needed to grieve both her death and the daily absence of my love in my life.

I had driven to work because I was hustling to get to an 8am meeting. When I got there, someone asked how I was doing, and I explained how I'd just had a good Whitney-induced cry.

"Whatever" said one of the meeting participants. "I work with kids whose parents die of addiction all the time. One of the things I tell them is that if you're sick for a long time, eventually you die."

While it was clear that what was driving that comment was pain about the cruel world of poverty in whose trenches he works, I wasn't going to let him trivialize the end of the era where this voice is here to belt out and inspire us like she did in this moment and so many others:

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

I chose this song to illustrate this point not just because she nails it but because I've begun to see signs of this same disillusionment and detachment in my own life as a result of the work that I do. On Friday night, after a long week, I went out with some friends, and one of them was excitedly talking about work he hopes to do to change politics and Wisconsin for the better.

When I left he said "I'll let you know when I get too excited again and you can be the wet blanket you were tonight."

He was (half) kidding, but it really made me think. At my core, I'm a believer. I'm a dreamer. I'm an optimist. If that's getting lost, or getting buried, perhaps I'm in the wrong profession?

Where Do Broken Hearts Go

Oh, Whitney. How your voice sang my pain as a young girl trying to sort out what love was all about and just what my role in it was. I'm still trying to figure that out, and you're, or at least your songs (R.I.P.), are still here to help.

Late this morning, post yoga, when three whole days had passed since I'd seen my love, I put out an SOS to a couple of pals about my own broken heart. It's complicated, but basically, my boyfriend and I really love each other, but we both have some growing and healing to do before we're ready to commit to each other, and we just can't seem to do that while spending most of our spare time and energy focused on each other.

So, and here's where the broken-hearted feelings come in, he's moving his stuff out of my house, and we're shifting out of a default of togetherness with minimal separation to a default of separation with minimal togetherness.

This evening, I was out with a friend of the extra-loyal persuasion (to me, and perhaps more importantly on this particular day, to his beloved Whitney, he says his people are good like that), when I heard that Whitney had died.

My friend and I made arrangements to meet my man back at my place for a Whitney-a-thon, and when we got there, I cannot tell you how relieved I was to see him and touch him.

Tears fell as we played this old fave:

I know it's been some time

But there's something on my mind

You see, I haven't been the same

Since that cold November day

We said we needed space

But all we found was an empty place

And the only thing I learned

Is that I need you desperately

So here I am

And can you please tell me, oh

Where do broken hearts go

Can they find their way home

Back to the open arms

Of a love that's waiting there

And if somebody loves you

Won't they always love you

I look in your eyes

And I know that you still care, for me

I've been around enough to know

That dreams don't turn to gold

And that there is no easy way

No you just can't run away

And what we have is so much more

Than we ever had before

And no matter how I try

You're always on my mind

And now that I am here with you

I'll never let you go

I look into your eyes

And now I know, now I know...

Yes Whitney, now I know. I know that I love him. But I also know that our broken hearts and inability to act out of self-love are going to be a drag on our relationship unless we take this time and space for ourselves.

Fool's Gold

This beautiful number played as the credits rolled on an episode of United States of Tara where Tara and Max really start to wonder if there's enough left of their relationship to carry on:

You told me that you'd stay with me

And shelter me forever

That was a hard promise to keep

I can't blame you for the bad weather

After all that has been said and done

I won't ask you where you're going

Don't keep in touch, I don't miss you much

Except sometimes early in the morning

Now use your silver tongue once more

There's one thing that I'd like to know

Did you ever believe the lies that you told?

Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?

I forgive you wanting to be free

I realize you long to wander

And I sympathize with your roving eyes

I just can't forgive your bad manners

Now use your silver tongue once more

There's one thing that I'd like to know

Did you ever believe the lies that you told?

Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?

Wow. Powerful song. Powerful lyrics. Powerful parallel, in some ways, to my own life.

I hadn't heard of Lhasa, the singer/songwriter, until tonight, but sadly, she died of breast cancer at 37. So sad, but I'm grateful her song is still here, along with her story, to help me keep my heart open tonight...

Chariots Rise

While my man and I were enjoying our Chianti last night, I brought up the lesson from Sideways about it not necessarily being a good idea to save something for a particular moment in the future. And then I played this song for him, explaining that I had been saving it, waiting to use it as a blog song when things felt particularly perfect. I thought it might be when he moved out here, or when we moved in together, or got married, or some other milestone that I was anticipating in our relationship.

It's such a beautiful song, such a beautiful expression of having found love:

I never felt this way before

I've seen so many islands

I never felt this way before

In this song here I describe him

The chariots rise

Up high in the sky

What grace have I

To fall so in love

What a wonderful dream

It seems to be

'Cause I love him

I took the notes of past excursions

And I read them through once more

Only to find them all diversions

From the one true love in store

The chariots rise

Up high in the sky

What grace have I

To fall so in love

What a wonderful dream

It seems to be

'Cause I love him

Though I have waited long

And they have all been wrong

Now I find in the end

With him I need not pretend

The chariots

They rise up high in the sky

What grace have I

To fall so in love

What a wonderful dream

It seems to be

'Cause I love him

'Cause I love him

And I do love him. And I am so grateful, because loving him has shown me my grace, more clearly than I've ever seen it.

But we're not at any sort of pivotal moment in our relationship. In fact, it feels a bit like it is slipping away. Not the love, but the feeling that the love is all we need...

For the First Time

I get a little worried about myself when the inner jukebox shuts off, since I know in my happiest and most creative states there is so often music playing. So I was relieved when this song came on, speaking my truth this morning, even if it wasn't particularly rosy:

Oh, these times are hard, yeah, they're making us crazy

Don't give up on me, baby

Still, I felt good about the way I dealt with this lyrical information. I told my boyfriend I wanted to spend some quality time, asked him what that looked like for him, threw in a bit of what it looked like for me, and then put this song on as he came in the door from work, pizza in hand, to a candlelit dinner table complete with wine and salad.

And then we ate, we drank, we talked, we enjoyed each other's company, and we agreed not to give up on each other, as the Script suggested...

True

When I moved out three and a half years ago, I purposely did not get a TV, and mostly, I haven't missed it much. But once in a while I learn about a cultural phenomenon I'm missing out on, and I want in on the action. At my daughter's soccer game, one of the Moms mentioned Modern Family one day, and many of the other parents joined in the conversation, laughing about it. Many of them have kids the same ages as mine so I decided if their families were enjoying it, maybe ours would too.

Although I'm a big believer that no tv is better than too much tv, there is something to be said for sitcom time -- togetherness, shared laughter, conversation starters on important things for families to discuss -- so I decided to order the DVD on Netflix. And for the past few weeks, whenever our Modern Family swells back up to four, we all settle in together to do just that.

In the episode we watched today, this song was featured. My kids, of course, were clueless about the song, but my man and I enjoyed the little mini concert of this infamous number by one of the band members:

I bought a ticket to the world,

But now I've come back again.

Why do I find it hard to write the next line?

Oh I want the truth to be said.

Huh huh huh hu-uh huh

I know this much is true.

Huh huh huh hu-uh huh

I know this much is true:

(They found it hard to write the next line because they weren't very good songwriters!)