On My Long Way Down

Another day has overtaken me and my level of productivity... well, I'd rather not talk about it.

Regarding my "almost relationship": all remains quiet on the southern front. (Not surprising.) In the course of this silence, I have thought of two things.

1) Patience is not my long suit. 

2) Calling him again is not a good idea.

Why is calling a bad idea? (I'm so glad you asked!)

It's a long story, and I won't go into the details here, but suffice to say that a long time ago with my first serious boyfriend I made a huge mistake. What was it? Well, as I said there's a long story that I don't want to get into here, but the significant part is as follows:

He went to boot camp and I went to work in NYC. I wrote tons of letters and got no response. I'm thinking he's changed his mind (not an unrealistic thought since the relationship had a long and annoying history of being on and off, with him controlling the ons and offs). And when I KNEW he was home and hadn't called me I got really drunk and called him. Nothing good ever happens when you drunk dial. Believe me. The gist was that he got all my letters when boot camp ended, and I was clearly upset at not having heard from him (ya think?), and he decided that continuing on would only hurt me more. Oh, he was so right about that. I figured that out about four years later. Anywhoozle, it took me a long time to fully understand that I stopped loving him right in that moment. I thought I still loved him, and continued on like I did, but the really good part of that love died right there on a parquet kitchen floor in Queens, New York.

You see, I wanted someone who was willing to fight for me. Or maybe thought I was worth fighting for. Whatever. And he wasn't that guy and he was never going to be that guy and it took me four years of trying to turn him into that guy to realize that I should have just accepted his answer the first time. Back on that parquet floor in Queens, New York. Continuing on was only going to hurt me more. He was 100% correct.

So, I've been thinking about that a lot these past few days. This tree guy will either decide I am someone worth fighting for (well not fighting precisely), but you know what I mean. Or he won't. But, if I call him (again), it's the first boyfriend all over again. And I will stop loving him before I even get a chance to start. And that seems like a big waste of time, and frankly I'm getting older and don't have four years to just throw into the toilet.

And that made me think of the Train song called Ordinary. And that made me realize that I should've posted it after the post on My Private Nation. It was released right after that record on the Spiderman 2 soundtrack. It is so much in the style of the My Private Nation record that it could've been on the album and fit in very well. It also is a perfect fit for the not-so-short story I told above.




Is it just me or do we all want to be anything but ordinary? And feel frustrated when our lives are so ordinary. Or our writing.

You read that correctly.

This song causes me to segue from my love life on life support to my writing on life support. I just don't believe in doing something unless you do it really well. I don't want to write a book that as the amazing Bryan over at A Beer For The Shower would say, "It's the best book no on will ever read." (He said this tongue-in-cheek about a story idea for his own book, but it made me pause and gasp a little.) Writing is such hard work that I cannot imagine being that person who devotes so much time and energy to something that is "okay" or "passable" or "fine." Oh God, please anything but fine.

I want to write something so funny, so witty, so damn spectacular (in its own obscure way) that makes a person not want to put the book down. Just like so many books have grabbed me in my life, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was quit reading and then wanted to cry just because it was over. So, I read it again so I could live for a few more hours in that world.

I want to be anything but ordinary. In my life. In my writing. Heck, I could probably settle for just this blog.

And that is why when I put My Private Nation back in the CD player the song that grabbed me by the throat was this one (Lyrics Below bolded by me):

I put ketchup on my scrambled eggs
And everybody thinks it's funny
I don't get mad

I don't laugh 'cause you don't shave your legs
But everybody thinks it's funny
No need to get mad

I don't spend my time with anyone
Who doesn't think I'm wonderful
Or somewhat cash refundable at times

Now I'm out here counting airplanes
Trying to make sense of the change
And I don't wanna be just anybody
So don't try to figure me out
I won't try to figure you out
I don't wanna be some average anybody

Now I got friends that ride into the storm
And ride out of the storm with nothing
They rode into the storm with

And there seems to be a price for everything
You get what you pay for then you pay for
What you already thought you bought before

But now I'm out here counting airplanes
Trying to make sense of the change
And I don't wanna be just anybody
So don't try to figure me out
I won't try to figure you out
I don't wanna be some average anybody

When you're up between the new sky line
The city lights and the warm sunshine
It's a long way down

When you can count on one hand what you love
And can count on who you love to help you
On your long way down

Well you end up counting airplanes
Trying to keep up with the changes
I don't wanna be with anybody else
So don't try to figure me out
I won't try to figure you out
I don't wanna be some average anybody

I don't wanna be with anybody else

When you're up between the new sky line 

The city lights and the warm sunshine
It's a long way down, it's a long way down
It's a long way down