…don’t know if I’ll find a place. I have to think about it some. This I do not wish to face.” – Matthew Sweet, Divine Intervention
I love lyrics.
When you listen to a song and somehow the lyrics mirror the exact situation that you are in it’s like some sort of Divine Intervention, indeed.
I became aware of this particular song, which came out in 1991, some time in late 1992 or early 1993. I’m a little behind the times.
In an attempt to kick start my adult life and eject myself from an early-to-mid-20s rut that seemed like it could develop into a every-Tuesday-we-go-to-happy-hour-at-Point-A and every-Thursday-we-go-to-see-the-band-at-Point-B routine that I wouldn’t notice until my early-to-mid-30s, I had just moved to Connecticut.
I accepted a completely out of my comfort zone job, which ultimately helped answer the “what do I want to do with my life” question with “anything but this”.
I was living alone in a random tiny town, and while a piece of me reveled in my newly discovered semi-pioneering spirit, a big piece of me feared being killed in my sleep and having no one to find my body until it turned to a puddle of goo. I discovered that I am not a living alone kind of girl.
My family back at home was in a tad bit of turmoil based on events not really involving me, but that still involved me because – family.
I broke up with my first significant boyfriend.
I was alone and far away and not really overjoyed with it. And I wasn’t sure what the next step should be.
And then I heard this song.
The rest of the song is about God, and that part didn’t resonate all that much with me. But that opening line – that was me.
The same album also included the following lines:
“Blown right out of my senses
I did not know what to do
Lost and badly wanting someone
To see me through that’s why I needed you” – You Don’t Love Me
This one was apropos of the fella that I thought was the one who would help clarify my future direction, but wasn’t.
“And it took me years to figure out
That there was nothing I could give to you
Years to figure out that there was nothing you would take from me
And how can I describe the way you slowly put my hope away
And all of the time
I thought I knew you” – Thought I Knew You
This one felt at the time about how I probably made my ex feel. And then years later how my ex made me feel. A little parallelism for ya’ right there.
“I didn’t think I’d find you
Perfect in so many ways
But I’ve been waiting
And I want to
I’ve been waiting
And I want to” – I’ve Been Waiting
At the time this one felt like a pipe dream – it was only waiting and no finding. Now in a weird retro twist, this one has a whole new meaning.
I just re-loaded this CD/album/collection of songs (what do we call them in the iTunes world?) and while the place these songs take me isn’t the brightest spot in my life, realizing how far I’ve come is kind of amazing. I can remember all of my mid-20s angst, and it doesn’t feel invalidated or immature, but where I am feels like some profound growth. Yay, me.
Put your iPod (Zune, Pandora, Spotify – whatever you kids listen to these days) on shuffle and I bet there’s something that jumps out and takes you back in time. Hopefully to a positive place, or at least to a place that helps you feel good about the present.
A little lyrical therapy is always a good thing IMHO.
And if by chance it takes you back to southern Connecticut in the early ’90s look me up, I’m a little lonely.
Turn on your iPod and write down the lyric from the first song that plays. Use it as the opening line.
This post is part of a series inspired by prompts from the book 642 Things to Write About by the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto. If you want to play along, write your own post (on your blog or other online forum) and post a link in the comments. I’ll add “shout-outs” at the end of my post and on the Keep Swimmin’ Facebook page to anyone who shares a link. (I’m not holding out a ton of hope anymore that anyone will play along – but maybe.)
Here is one I fancy that relates to a current situation:
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Will you lie with me and just forget the world…
Reblogged this on Agent Argyle and commented:
Excellent blogmanship from an excellent writer! You. Must. Read.