He's Free Fallin'

Some songs are almost about me.

This song felt like my song today. Especially John Mayer's mellow version (below). Which, I know, is probably an insult to the perfect original version. But still. That voice is key.

So I was going to post the lyrics. But then I realized that, to be accurate, I'd have to change the lyrics. And then the song lost its poignancy and became a joke.

That's my story.
Happy Sunday.

She's a good girl, loves her mama
Loves Jesus, and America Canada too
She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis Bono
Loves horses wombats, and her boyfriend her dead boyfriend too






I do love Elvis. And non-dead individuals.
And I'm the good girl. Sigh.

300

This is Post #300. Strike up the band. And in honor of my 300 ramblings, I shall toss a nice and long stream of consciousness at you....

Dis-"chord"

My piano is dying. As I've been playing it a lot lately, this is bordering on tragedy. So now I either need to strike it rich (so I can buy a baby grand AND a house to fit it in) or I need to take up the guitar. Which is far more portable. Or so I've heard.

In My Head

I have very little control over what gets stuck in my head. Lately, it's been a combination of "For the Nights I Can't Remember" by Hedley -- It's a Canadian-content thing. The radio plays them EVERY MORNING as I get dressed. So when I hear...

And I do wanna love you
If you see me running back
And I do wanna try
Because if falling for you, girl, is crazy
Then I'm going out of my mind
So hold back your tears this time

...I'm actually thinking about putting on eye shadow. --and "A Kiss is Not a Contract" by Flight of the Conchords. Which is hilarious, but not always suitable for singing aloud. If you're under 14, don't bother listening to the lyrics. I don't want to be held responsible for questionable content in your precious little heads.

The other song currently in my head (and it's one that lyrically resonates with me as of late) is Edwin McCain's "Go Be Young." Yes, I love his voice. We've established that. Many times.

Perfumed and smoky
She swears that she knows me
She's falling down drunk again
I say she's mistaken
She's visibly shaken
Emotions all drowned in gin
She said I used to be beautiful
But now it's all gone
I let my dreams slip away from me
That's where it went wrong

Go be young, go be free
Follow your heart where it leads you
Don't end up like me

Act Your Age

I was born old. And I often neglect to just "go be young." To live in the moment. I'm too good at delayed gratification. I forget about today. But the times they are a-changin'....

(Is quoting Bob Dylan a young thing to do? I hope so.)

Regret

I was quite shocked recently to discover that I was regretting having done the right thing. I didn't know it was possible to regret making the best possible decision. But there I was, treating my life as a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure tale, wishing I could flip back a few pages to try for a more satisfying outcome. An outcome, while less "right" and responsible and mature, of greater spectacular-ness.

A Wedding and a Funeral

I have called my grandmother's funeral a wedding so many times now, I can no longer keep track. I've even typed it. Oddly enough, I find it fitting. When I returned home last weekend, I went through a Bible study on "Beauty from Ashes." And instead of summarizing with thoughts on being beautiful, Beth Moore shared what it was like to watch her mother die. To look at a body no longer inhabited by life. I know that moment. Exactly.

"And all I could think about was that sweet little torn-up body was now dressed in white, was beautifully proportioned from head to toe, and she was standing before Jesus, looking into the face of someone who knew her every detail as the virgin bride of Christ."

~Beth Moore

Words, Words, Words

The journaling process has become a little overwhelming in the past weeks. The other night, I curled up on my bed to scribble down some thoughts on death, beauty, love and fearlessness, and ended up rambling for eight pages. And I never even got to my point.

Even blogging is an exercise in editing. I could type forever. I am falling more in love with the written word. You are warned. (And yes, I deleted over five paragraphs before posting this.)

A Snapshot

My dad is looking for something computer- or work-related.

Dad: Where is my--? Hee!
Joel: Where is your "hee"?
Mom: Yes, his "hee."
Nadine: I ask myself that all the time: Where is my "he"?

Joel laughs.

Mom: Don't put that on your blog.
Nadine: Um, I think my readers know I'm single.
Mom: Oh.


Here's to 300 more....

Where the Angels Sleep

I woke up with "Where the Angels Sleep" in my head last Saturday morning. The day before my grandmother died. And while the chorus used to stir me, this time the verses seemed startlingly personal. Every time the song cycles through a season of my life, I identify with something new. Sometimes I find it encouraging. And sometimes it makes me cry. So it's never 100% me. But it's often close.

And then last Sunday happened. And the song was neatly tucked into the back of my mind.

Yesterday, I started sorting through the endless stacks of sheet music in my apartment. Scratch that. The endless stacks of poorly photocopied chords covered with transposed scratches and lyric adjustments. A crinkled, melodic chaos. As I was sorting through the mess, I found the lyrics to the gorgeous song that looped over and over in my head a mere week ago, all typed up prettily from the days of when I would tape lyrics to my wall. The chords permanently sit at my piano. And the CD is always but a lonely night away.

Sometimes a girl's just gotta turn up the tunes, turn down the lights and hug her pillow.

Where the Angels Sleep - Bebo Norman
(Listen to the whole song here.)

I don't know why I always run
Is it fear of the fall or fear of the touch?
And I don't know where the angels sleep

And I don't know how to really love
I've never stood still long enough
And I don't know where the angels sleep

But I am alive and standing strong
I'm no farther forward, just farther along
I hold on to my pride and dig in deep
It's pulling me down, and I am no closer to release
And I don't know where the angels sleep

I don't know how to see you now
The friend from before is different somehow
And I don't know where the angels sleep

And I don't know when I'll love again
But I don't trust myself to just let you in
And I don't know where the angels sleep

It's taken ten thousand days
To get stuck in my ways
And it offers no grace
I cannot stand this place
With love in my face
I walk away slowly

I don't know where the angels sleep
No, I don't know where the angels sleep

No matter how much as I play it on the piano, I just don't sound like a boy with a guitar.

I Will Show You Love

I will show you love like you’ve never loved before
I will go the distance and back for more if you just say the word

You will come alive again and call the trying times your friend
The pain that you have suffered through will never get the best of you
You will hope in something real that won’t depend on how you feel
When you call my name then I will answer, answer

I am on your side though the wind and waves beat against your faith
You were on my mind when the world was made
Trust in me my child, Trust in me my child

Walk out on the water where you have no control
So scared to death of failure you sacrifice your soul, please let that go

You have climbed an uphill road, You have worn a heavy load
You have cried through endless nights and nearly given up the fight
Watched your dreams like falling stars the heartaches made you who you are
Now looking back you see that I have always been there

Where you gonna hide? Where you gonna hide from Me?
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go that I can’t see?

I have heard you cry and it breaks my heart for I love you so
I would never lie, this is not the end there is still a hope

~Kendall Payne, Paper Skin
Listen

Happy February 14th, everyone.

I love you.
In case you didn't know.