All This & Heaven Too, Florence + the Machine.

And the heart is hard to translate, it has a language of its own.  It talks in tongues and quiet sighs, in prayers and proclamations, in the grand days of great men in the smallest of gestures, in short shallow gasps.  But with all my education, I can’t seem to command it.  And the words are all escaping me and coming back all damaged.  And I would put them back in poetry, if I only knew how.  I can’t seem to understand it and I would give all this and heaven too, I would give it all if only for a moment that I could just understand the meaning of the word, you see, because I’ve been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me, at all.  And it talks to me on tiptoes, and sings to me inside, it cries out in the darkest night, and breaks in the morning light.  But with all my education, I can’t seem to command it.  And the words are all escaping me and coming back all damaged.  And I would put them back in poetry, if I only knew how.  I can’t seem to understand it and I would give all this and heaven too, I would give it all if only for a moment that I could just understand the meaning of the word, you see, because I’ve been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me, at all.  And I would give all this and heaven too, I would give it all if only for a moment that I could just understand the meaning of the word, you see, because I’ve been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me, at all.  No words, a whole language, doesn’t deserve such treatment, and all of my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling.  All this heaven… never could describe such a feeling as I hear… words were never so useful so I’m screaming out a language that I never knew existed before.

Songs… take what you will from the lyrics and why they are important.

Blinding, Florence + the Machine:

Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state.  A tourist in the waking world never quite awake.  No kiss, no gentle word, could wake me from this slumber, until I realize that it was you who held me under.  Felt in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids; shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs.  No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone.  No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden.  No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love; no more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love; no more dreaming like girl so in love with the wrong world.  And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack, and all around the world was waking, I never could go back cuz all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open, and finally it seemed that the spell was broken.  And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open; and all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open.  No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone.  No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden.  No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love; no more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love; no more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world.  Snow White’s stitching up the circuit board, synapse slipping through the hidden door, Snow White’s stitching up the circuit board.  No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone.  No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden.  No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love; no more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love; no more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world.  Snow White’s stitching up the circuit boards, synapse slipping through the hidden door, Snow White’s stitching up the circuit boards, synapse slipping through the hidden door.

Cosmic Love, Florence + the Machine:

A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes.  I screamed aloud as it tore through them and now it’s left me blind.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart.  And in the dark I can hear your heartbeat, I try to find the sound.  But then it stops and I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart.  I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map, and knew that somehow I could find my way back.  And I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too, so I stayed in the darkness with you.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart.

Forever and Ever, He is We:

Forever and ever, forever and ever… Home is where you are, kind of tragic that I left your side, left your side, left your side.  I recall a smile, a kiss when the sun did rise, by your side, I was by your side.  Got to tell you how it feels now: you’re my air when I feel I can’t breathe, catching me when I’m tripping over my feet, we’ll get through this together; you’re my smile when I just want to cry, make it all better as you kiss my sad eyes, I’m giving you my forever, and forever and ever, forever and ever… The hug, the kiss, the love, all the magic that we’re feeling inside, deep inside, deep inside.  It’s hard to find the words, the courage is somewhere inside, deep inside, deep inside.  Got to tell you how it feels now, I’m ready to fall: you’re my air when I feel I can’t breathe, catching me when I’m tripping over my feet, we’ll get through this together; you’re my smile when I just want to cry, make it all better as you kiss my sad eyes, I’m giving you my forever, and forever and ever, forever and ever… Sat down, thought about it today, if I only had a breath what would I want to say, something real, something sweet, something real sweet, thought about it real hard, and only one thing, only one thing, and only one thing, only one thing came to me: you’re my air when I feel I can’t breathe, catching me when I’m tripping over my feet, we’ll get through this together; you’re my smile when I just want to cry, make it all better as you kiss my sad eyes, I’m giving you my forever.  You’re my air when I feel I can’t breathe, catching me when I’m tripping over my feet, we’ll get through this together; you’re my smile when I just want to cry, make it all better as you kiss my sad eyes, I’m giving you my forever, and forever and ever, forever and ever.

And Run, He is We:

Kind of wish I had the courage, a bit of bravery.  So tired of waiting on a man to come and save me.  Wishing I had everything, well something really, hard to admit it, but now I’m thinking freely.  I’m going to open my mind to all these newfound, exciting possibilities.  I’m making all my own plans, throwing all my old ones away.  I’ve gotta grow up, be someone; draw a map, find a path, take a breath, and run.  Filling my head with words to encourage me.  Gotta get my act all straight so I can truly believe that what I’m waiting for is really worth the wait; stop bringing myself down, I gotta know what makes me great.  I’m going to open my mind to all these newfound, exciting possibilities.  I’m making all my own plans, throwing all my old ones away.  I’ve gotta grow up, be someone; draw a map, find a path, take a breath, and run.  I am trying to get past this, be better than I once was, tired of waiting on someone else.  I am trying to get past this, be better than I once was, tired of waiting on someone else, I can fix it by myself.  I’m finally taking a stand.  I’ve learned from all my mistakes.  I’m making all my own plans.  Throwing all my old ones away.  I’ve gotta grow up, be someone; draw a map, find a path, take a breath, and run, run, run, and run, run, run.

Free of Me, Joshua Radin:

Something’s wrong from the hilltop; I know you can see.  I look strong altogether, though inside I’m weak.  Still I bleed, still I wait to heal, a wound from my crime.  What I need are more bandages, they’ve torn over time.  You’re shelter from the rain, turn around, walk away.  Go now, don’t look back, my life has come off it’s tracks and you should be free of me.  I can be who you wanted somewhere down the road, when I’m whole, when the rains are done, when I’ve reaped what I’ve sewn.  But here and now, on my hands and knees, I crawl through the mud.  And your bed is so soft and warm, and I’m weary and tired.  You’re shelter from the rain, turn around, walk away.  Go now, don’t look back, my life has come off it’s tracks and you should be free of me.  Leave me alone, I’ll find another home, I’m on my knees crying out please.  Go now, and don’t look back, my life has come off it’s tracks and you should be free of me.  Free of me.  Free of me.  Free of me.

Hang You Up, Yellowcard:

I cannot hold this anymore.  My hands are tired of only waiting to let go, and I am waiting still.  I used to know which way to turn.  You were a light inside a tunnel in my head I try to follow, still, I try to follow, still.  It’s hard to see you, we are older now.  And when I find you, you just turn around.  This is a black and white of you I found.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  No more apologies from me.  My arms are tired of picking up what I put down; you’re all I think of, still.  I’m going to miss you everyday.  I turn my back on anyone who won’t believe, and it gets lonely, still, it gets lonely, still.   It’s hard to see you, we are older now.  And when I find you, you just turn around.  This is a black and white of you I found.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  I get lost sometimes.  Another year flies by, but I know if I try memories of the light in your eyes can take me back in time.  It’s hard to see you, we are older now.  And when I find you, you just turn around.  This is a black and white of you I found.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  It’s hard to see you, we are older now.  And when I find you, you just turn around.  This is a black and white of you I found.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  I hang you up and then I pull you down.  I don’t hear music anymore.  My ears are tired of all the pictures in the words because you are in them, still.

Passion Play, William Fitzsimmons:

I should not have hid where my heart can’t follow, because this grace gets so far and too hard to swallow.  I’ve been running from Saul, he’s been giving chase; when I look in his eyes all I see is my face.  Are you still on my back after all these years chasing me out of hell and my nice veneers.  I don’t know how you stand when you’ve got no floor.  Or how you can breathe with your hands on boards.  I just want to be not what I am today, I just want to be better than my friends might say, I just want a small part in your passion play.  Do you hear when I call in the midst of wrong?  Do you hear these words while I sing this song?  Are you caught up in me like I heard you say?  Or just some big cashier that I’ll have to pay?  I just want to be not what I am today, I just want to be better than my friends might say, I just want a small part in your passion play.

“Bruises and scrapes, our life’s mistakes are nothing but bad weather.”

Mutual does not mean easy.  It means both agreed.  It’s definitely not easy.  It’s frightening.  And it really makes you examine and self-reflect.  I have listened to music today and I found a song while going through my 16 days worth of music that I thought was perfect: “Free of Me” by Joshua Radin.  I am consumed with a couple of songs lately, one being Florence + the Machine’s “Cosmic Love,” now “Free of Me” by Joshua Radin, and “Good for Great” by Matt & Kim.  The Matt & Kim song has more of a hopeful note to it.  It’s not as self-examining as the others, but it does have great lyrics.  And some energetic and fun music.

So the darkness I became.

A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes.  I screamed aloud as it tore through them and now it’s left me blind.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out.  You left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in the this twilight, in the shadow of your heart.  And in the dark I can your heart beat, I try to find the sound.  But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness so darkness I became.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out.  You left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart.  I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map and knew that somehow I could find my way back.  Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too.  So I stayed in the darkness with you.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out.  You left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart.  The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out.  You left me in the dark.  No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart.

Lyrics courtesy of Florence + the Machine.  Song called “Cosmic Love”.

Happily Ever After.

The combination of coffee, Sex and the City, and female driven music always creates a wish to write.  Well, usually the combination of pretty much anything and coffee and I feel like I can take on the world.  Maybe.  I have listened to Florence + the Machine quite a bit lately.  Florence Welch has an absolutely beautiful voice.  And I must say, she is one of the few women in entertainment who has made me wish I could change my hair color to a brilliant hue of red.  I am pale enough that I could pull it off.  The last time I tried dying my hair it turned out relatively orange.  No, that’s a lie.  It was not relatively orange, it was plain old orange.  Oh, the good old days of high school and attempting to define myself through drastic color changes and punk hair cuts.  What am I saying, the days of high school?  I still cut my hair short and spiky.  In fact, I went to Great Clips (yes, I am that cheap) the other day and got about two inches sheared off.  And I already have short hair.  It really is so much easier to deal with when it is this short.  That, and I actually like the way it shows off my face.  Anyone who has ever cut my hair has told me I have the face to do any length and that my hair does exactly what they tell it to do (which I wonder at, because any time I try to get it to do anything, it does not follow MY directions).  I have considered dying my hair again, as well.  In October I went blonde and I finally have grown it out enough that it is back to my mousey brown.  With Florence’s hair in my mind, I wish I could try doing red again.  Or even revert back to my high school and early college years of multidimensional hair color.  I would dye my hair at least three different colors at a time.  Occasionally it was pink or purple, but I don’t want to walk down that road.  I am way past the age of highlighting my hair magenta.  However, blonde, black, brown would be a cool idea.  But alas, no money and I do not want people to look at me as the girl with “weird hair”.

Jonathan once told my parents that the first thing he noticed about me was my hair.  It was unique.  He said he had never seen a girl or known a girl who had as eclectic hair as mine.  When we first met I had dark brown hair with blonde patches and a few blue-black low lights.  I had a cut that was later made famous by Posh Spice, but it was slightly longer than Mrs. Beckham’s.  The front was at least four inches longer than the back and the back had haphazard layers so that if I slept on it and walked out the door it would create this sexy bed head look.  And occasionally it would just be bed head, and there was nothing sexy about it.  There are times when I still want to break out the old looks: darker hair, misshapen cut, black skinny jeans and white studded belt, wife beater and track jacket (my favorite still being the Senses Fail one I got my senior year of high school, which still hangs in my closet).  Add on my turquoise (may they rest in peace) and black Vans, and that was how I looked until I turned twenty-one.  Apparently when I reached the age I could buy alcohol I decided it best that I not look like a high school misfit but rather someone who actually acknowledged that good first impressions were necessary.

I had a boyfriend, back in the day, who had a lip ring and an eyebrow piercing, spiky hair that he mousse up into a faux-hawk, he had gauges in his ears, and went around skanking to everything.  He thought it was cool to put on “Pop” by N’Sync (which I do love, by the way) and SKANK to it.  He would always complain about how he could not get a job, they would never tell him directly, but he claimed he knew they were being discriminatory because of his appearance.  Typically I would roll my eyes at him because the thought that would be going through my head was “no shit Sherlock”.  He failed to realize that though it is a fine goal to see a world who does not judge or discriminate, he has to have some give and take with personal style and expression when looking for a job.  If he wanted to work retail he would have fit in perfect with the Hot Topic crew, but he would be applying for office jobs and other such positions and when he would go in to the interview he would be wearing jeans, a t-shirt, eyebrow and lip piercing in, gauges punching holes in his ears, and hair spiked with so much gel if a ball landed on the end it would deflate.  What is so hard about the idea of compromise?  Give a little to get a little.  (Look at me being all preachy, but truth is some times there are situations I refuse to compromise in, like music.  That’s right, get a good laugh in.  I know you are.)

(I just had a thought: it is amazing where the mind takes you.  I had originally sat down, coffee in hand, to write about relationships a la Carrie Bradshaw, and somehow I just waxed on about “punked” out hairstyles and blasts from the past.  Yeesh.)

I am currently watching the third season of Sex and the City.  One of the Aidan seasons.  Though Carrie chooses Big in the end, I have always debated if he was the right choice.  Their relationship always seemed so traumatic.  The extreme highs and lowest lows, this emotional upheaval and always drama.  Not that there wasn’t drama with Aiden or even the Russian, but with Big it seemed masochistic.  He was emotionally unavailable and unwilling to commit and she kept diving in hoping, praying, wishing he would change.  Is it even realistic to believe someone will change?  You cannot force it to happen, it has to come from within the person.  And I guess in the end Big did change.  He was the one who realized his love for Carrie.  He realized he wanted the commitment, that he had in fact changed to become the man Carrie always wanted and needed.  It just seems so depressing, though, that the major relationship played out on the show was one where the characters did not fit when they were both themselves, and only worked out when one of them came to his senses.  What does that say about relationships and human interaction?  Are there only a certain amount of people out there who get us for who and what we are?  Or is change such a natural part of human nature that it’s perfectly reasonable to assume one or the other has to change or even will be willing to change.  But then we get into the issue of where the line for compromise exists.  If I give up a certain action that I enjoy because it annoys you, and you give up a certain action that annoys me, is this reasonable, or are we forever doomed to wonder when the compromise fails and secrecy and hiding true actions begin?

And that’s the thing, if you do behave in a way that is harmful to not only your partner, but to the relationship as a whole, is it okay to assume that it will one day stop?  Or is it too much to ask?  I guess it depends on what “it” is.  I have thought a lot lately about character flaws.  The tragic hero.  And I keep thinking that everyone is the tragic hero of their own life.  How sad is that?  How absolutely depressing that my first thought is that each and every one of us is a tragic hero, and we are doomed by character flaws to fall into darkness.  No positivity (like I have wanted to integrate into my life), no “we are the heroes,” but that we are the TRAGIC heroes.  We cheer each other on, we support and talk and encourage, but the basic truth is that our actions and our desires come from within.  The tragic hero is the one we all love and cheer for and want to finish out ahead, but he lets his demons consume him.  Facing those demons is undoubtedly strength, admitting to having them is strong, and willing to move forward is definitely strong.  But what sucks is that it takes energy, too, and it is draining.  Being so strong can make anyone feel weak.  Life’s little jokes, right?

Wow, so, excuse my diatribe on relationships.  Apparently Sex and the City turns me into a romantic philosopher and a relationship shaman.  Always interesting what comes out when I open those gates.