This is one of those posts no one gives a shit about. I’ve been away from here long enough that I had to log in. The past few weeks, I’ve been trapped in a nostalgia sinkhole and it’s been harder to climb out than usual, because I’m deliberately trying to immerse myself in memories for something I want to submit to a literacy review.
This latest bout of nostalgia started when Dave and I went to see the Wedding Present play Seamonsters to celebrate its 21st anniversary (like that isn’t enough to make a person feel old). Dave loves the music so much and it reminds me of when we met, but it’s weird that these songs about relationship angst have somehow become “our songs.” I think Dave just doesn’t pay much attention to lyrics. But good lord, those lyrics. I obsess over them. I desperately wish I could write half as well as David Gedge. In 200 words, he can convey a feeling that needs no additional explanation. Of course, I’m guessing his life has actually been interesting. Having to go back twenty years to find some drama to write about, as I’ve done, means it’s time to admit your life just isn’t that interesting.
My writing, like my thinking, is heavy with detail, explanation, and analysis, not to mention an introspection that I believe blocks people from finding it resonant themselves. Part of me wants to delete every word I’ve written for the literary review and copy and paste the lyrics to Seamonsters into the submission box instead. Think they’d notice?
Then friends offered us free tickets to the National Symphony Orchestra. When I found out what we’d be seeing (Mendelssohn’s Elijah), I thought it sounded familiar. I looked it up and found the video below and recognized it. In fact, it contains a line that gets lodged in my head all the time and not remembering where the hell it came from has driven me nuts for years (“And a mighty wind rent the mountains around, brake in pieces the rocks, brake them before the Lord. But yet the Lord was not in the tempest.”).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzXR-O8FB4I
My friends asked me if I’d sung the whole thing or just excerpts and I couldn’t remember. Of course, when I finally dug up the program, (like I would’ve thrown it out) it was during college–the same time I’m currently grinding over. My chorus sang it in its entirety–twice. Plus two excerpts at another concert. I can’t believe how much better I feel having figured this out. I can’t stand forgetting. Just try to imagine having to look for a choral program from 1992 and you can start to understand how exhausting it is to be me.
Then, this week there was something else, something maybe I shouldn’t even mention. But it’s contributed to why I’m spending so much of my time thinking about the past rather than functioning at all well in the present (I said fuck in one form or another at work today at least 20 times, loudly, because I am professional). I don’t even fully understand what the hell went on and it’s none of my damn business, but someone in my childhood best friend’s life was just murdered. There have been all kinds of murders on the side of town where I grew up and I can’t help but wonder what the hell made me so lucky.
So I’m busy writing, just not stuff for here (unless it’s not selected, in which case I might dump those 1,500 words–cause you know I won’t be under the word limit–here). And I’m busy thinking about my past as if it were a “Choose Your Own Adventure Book” rather than the prologue to my present. And I’m working with a designer to make this shit hole look more attractive and hopefully speak more accurately to what I’m trying to do here (which is actually to be funny, which you’d never know from this post).
Actually, your life does sound THAT interestinig in that you’re busy and doing things instead of worrying about putting up a blog post every day. Never apologize for spending your time in the way that you have to spend time. To be honest, I’m jealous you’re working with a designer for your blog and putting so much effort into honing your craft for your submission. Those things are BIG, my friend!
At any rate, I’m sorry for the violence that’s invading your thoughts. It’s strange to think about where you’ve been, but it’s important to realize you’re where you are now for a reason.
Thanks, Abby. I am pretty excited about a lot of what’s going on. But I like blogging and wish I had more time to post and read and do everything else too. Oh well, that’s life I guess. The story I’m writing is basically all about your last point. I think I’m writing it because I still need a little convincing.
So strange that you would write about your past as “Choose Your Own Adventure.” I’ve been having many of the same thoughts lately. In fact, my friend and I had a discussion about our own pasts the other day and what life would have delivered had we made different decisions.
Good for you for putting something together to submit. I can bet you it’ll get accepted. And for the record, I love your writing. It resonates with me on all sorts of levels. I think you have a unique and strong voice.
Good luck! Let us know.
Thanks, I appreciate that. My husband explained the songwriting point I was trying to make in this post better than I did. Yesterday he said songs leave enough space for the listener to insert themselves into it and interpret it however they wish. I think that’s why songs and poems are so powerful, it’s so easy to connect with them. I’d love to be able to write like that, but I don’t seem capable of leaving that space.
The story I’m writing is just coming out of me and it’s actually a little weird. I’m writing it while running, while commuting, while watching TV. It deals with the past and struggles with regret and I think that finishing it is helping me leave the past in the past, which is good whether the story is accepted or not.
So sorry to hear this. Are you talking about Nicki? I wanted Cedar’s middle name to be Elias but Alex nixed that.
Forgot to mention that the Kennedy Center performance was in the original German. So he actually was “Elias.” I sang it in English (thank God).
Yeah, my next door neighbor from way back. It sounds like a mess.
I would suggest you ease up a bit on the self deprecation. Some of it is funny, you do have a great sense of humor. But too much of it might put off some of your readers. Let us decide if we give a shit about it, don’t tell us that we won’t. You write well. Let us admire it. And I’m sorry about the murder, to say the least. That’s a lot to deal with.
Thanks for the honest feedback, Steph. I appreciate it.
I am sorry about all the stuff going on….I still ended up laughing over your saying fuck 20 times (loudly) because you were professional. I guess – despite my best efforts – I am not professional enough at work…..now I know what I need to aim for.
I didn’t care who heard me at first, but as soon as the 20th “fuck” came out I started worrying. But then I realized since it was 7pm (fuck) I was the only person still stupid enough to be in the office.
Tracy,
You are a jumbled mix of pain, humor, tenderness, ambition, insecurity, hope, and optimism – and more – just in this post!
Your drive and passion inspire me to follow your blog and take sincere interest in your life.
I am fascinated by your posts on a regular basis and for the life of me, I cannot figure out how you got through the basement clean-out with a choir program from 1992 in tact. See- that is amazing! I’m laughing now, and I hope you are, too, because I just can’t wrap my head around that simple fact. LOL. Your humor shines through for me, and I just love it!
Can’t wait to read your upcoming writing projects, whether posted or via link or purchase!
Thanks Jill, I’ve been exhausting myself and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this comment.
The choir program never made it to the basement! I used to use my photo albums more like scrapbooks through my college years. I’d stick concert ticket stubs, etc… into the magnetic pages along with photos. So that’s where the program was. It’s hard for me to let things go. Especially memory-related stuff. I just wish I’d remembered to look in the album first before flipping through so much of my diary trying to jog my memory. That wasn’t a good use of my time!