Lyrics

Dear John,

There are a lot of good breakup songs. And there are a lot of different styles to them. And I've learned recently that most of the ones written by girls - even really talented ones, like the Corrs - end up sounding super whiny. And as I and my cohort have started writing awesome lyrics ourselves, I am very conscious of sounding too whiny.

But I keep listening to a ton of music in general and I keep realizing how many of them are breakup songs. Especially those by John Mayer (my fav). Now, I am convinced that like 90% of his songs are about Lydia (who I named my GPS device after for some reason), but that's another story.

This story is about Split Screen Sadness, and how I think it's the closest a breakup song will come to our situation. Every situation is unique, of course, but every breakup does involve well...heartbreak. So it's always easy to relate. But John hit me hard just now:

One hand on the trigger of a telephone
Wondering when the call comes
Where you say it's alright
You got your heart right

Now that we chat - i mean, uh, have super-deep conversations via AIM. Really? AIM? Yes. I mean, I guess I'm blogging to you, so I can't really complain about textual conversation channels - occasionally enough, I sort of crave talking to you more. I am always tempted to call, but don't know if that's...."allowed."

One of my friends and I were commiserating literally the day after our breakup, and he said something like "Oh yeah, do not call him. I called the SHIT out of whatsherface when we broke up. It just doesn't look good." I just think that's a hilarious way to put John's beautiful telephone-trigger image. What is the best way to use that weapon? When will you use it to your advantage? Will you use it on me?

All you need is love is a lie cause
We had love but we still said goodbye
Now we're tired, battered fighters
And it stings when it's nobody's fault
Cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of your name
It's only the air you took and the breath you left

These lines are the worst for me, because I - and I know you too - are a huge believer in "all you need is love." My definition for that though must be shifting to sort of a general "love your neighbor" love, not romantic love. The same way I think 1Corinthians 13 is taken out of context.

It is so easy for my girlfriends to blame each others' exes. And bitch about how lame and ugly they were. And I know it is all to build up the girlfriends. But, just to let you know, I fought with them this weekend for you. I yelled at them, explaining your virtues and kindness and love. Because really, our breakup wasn't either of our "faults." It was distance. And it was timing. And it is confusion and definitions and maturity levels and life changes and exploration and youth.

"If I could I would punch timing in the face" is the little ditty-saying I had stuck in my head for a month after our breakup. It's being replaced by other tweet-ables, but it still makes sense. We share the silence.

Love,
Heart

Possible reveal

I've been watching too much HGTV, mostly because it's all my mom watches. All the designers in their little Disney Channel-esque interludes (remember those? "Disney Channel stars are just like you!" except they are famous actors. No big deal. But anyway!) between shows talk about how they love "the reveal!" Anyway...now that the possibly witty intro to this post got butchered by too many asides...

Dear John,

I gave you the link to my other blog tonight. In a differently related context. And maybe you're curious enough to wander over to this one. Maybe you're not.

If you are here - hello! I had played with the idea of giving you this link all along. And I'm not really ashamed of any of my whinings. And sort of proud of my growings, not in a small part to this blog/other journal entires/lyrics I have written.

If you do not come by, it's just as well.

And that brings us to the age-old: if a tree falls in a forest...

Love,
Heart

Shopping therapy

Dear John,

It's taken me five weeks, but I finally shopping therapy-ed post-breakup.

I went in to DSW for a pair of shoes for the wedding I'm going to this weekend, but I came out with three pairs of tights, two handbags (one was free though and for my mom), a pair of sneaker-flats (that you would think are indie-rad, probably), and a pair of wedding-appropriate shoes.

I call that a success, even though I tried on a bunch of cute winter-y hats and I couldn't make my puffy hair look good under them.

Remember when we went shopping together? I think I had more fun than with you than I have had with many of my girlfriends. It's probably because my gfs don't try to sneak into dressing rooms with me and act on thinking my outfits are sexy.

I still want these Toms boots, and I love-hate that you introduced me to the do-good Toms brand.

Love,
Heart

Vegas

Dear John,

When I invited you to come see me this weekend - still a good four hour drive from where you are, but probably the furthest West I'll be in a good, long while - I never expected you to come. I told myself I was just being playful.

Though you said you probably couldn't, you at least feigned interest and that surprised and delighted me!

But today, when you officially told me you couldn't make it, but seemed so disappointed about it, it hit much harder than I expected -

Especially when I walked through a beautiful photo gallery and all I could think of was the West and the outdoors and watching Planet Earth and wanting to share it all with you.

Especially when I ate at the Hard Rock and every band on the walls and on the video screens reminded me of the amazingness of music, which reminded me of you ("And I'd give up forever to touch you" may be the best opening lyrics of a song ever. Goo Goo Dolls? I'm not even that crazy about them. Those lyrics just stopped me in my business in the bathroom at Hard Rock though).

Especially when I walked the Strip and all I could hope was that this wasn't everything. That not everyone was satisfied with merely gaudy distraction.

It hurts the most though right now - in the form of sniffles and stupid tears on my stupid cheeks - in a cold hotel room (which I love! Truly!), attempting to substitute at least "one" more night of you holding me with a hoody and fluffy socks. It's not warm enough.

Love,
Heart

P.S:

I fear air conditioning.

Even though I feel so lonely, and I'm cradling my phone in my hand, knowing how lucky I am to have so many people who would pick up and talk to me, no matter how late it is on the home coast, I only really want to talk to you. What does that mean? Love? Lust? Fear? Intimacy? Loneliness?

Wellp

Dear John,

Now we talk all the time. On AIM, of course, which is not my favorite serious conversation communication channel, but I'll use it. To talk to you, probably mostly.

It's nice to know you didn't want to cut me out of your life. But now it's harder for me to know what to do.

I still think you're probably going to be an eternal bachelor of the rogue musician/philosopher/mystic/Brahman sort (I could imagine you as any of those, really). (And, I mean all of those as a compliment.)

Now I know you don't believe in relationships. Or, you don't understand why they are what everyone kind of strives for. I don't really know why either, but I know I do want one (I think). And I believe that if everyone is essentially looking for love - generally, it's the monogamous relationship kind - then relationships must essentially be good.

So, the point is, if you ever feel like having a best friend+lover (my personal definition of a relationship), with or without a culturally-prescribed definition, you know where to find me. I - in perfectly stupid girl fashion - would probably drop everything to get to spend time with you.

Love,
Heart

Feeling better

Dear John,

I am feeling...great today. I shaved my legs, put on a skirt, swished my hips a bit on the way to work, never once even thought about sobbing, and stopped myself short when I realized I wasn't thinking about you (but then it started me thinking about you but you know...).

I can't really figure out why! Here are some bluffs:

• Gossip Girl was on tonight, and I was looking forward to extreme (gross? on-too-early-in-primetime? HIGHschool?) sexiness all day
• Coffee for the first time in a few days
• I danced yesterday
• I signed up for a Pilates fusion class with my mom
• I saw some hott girls last night
• One particularly hott one gave me super-good ice cream therapy Saturday night
• Uhhh... I talked to you on the phone yesterday

Yeah. It was great talking to you. Except, I freaked out when you actually answered (expecting voicemail) and we talked about music for half an hour, since I couldn't remember what I wanted to tell you, and then you had to go.

And I feel kind of bad that I feel SO MUCH BETTER after talking to you. Woooosh that huge boulder of I'll-never-see-you-again-my-life-is-ruined-what-are-you-doing-with-your-life-how-are-you-feeling-without-me finally flew off of my shoulders. Probably to land on one of my other of what seems like hundreds of girlfriends that have recently been broken up with.

Even though we didn't get to finish our conversation (and I was too chicken to say everything I really wanted to), I feel almost no desire to talk to you today. I am feeling extremely confident and you know, if you want to talk to me, you can.

(So I'll be here. Sitting online. Waiting for you to IM me. You know, if you're interested. No big deal. I'm confident.)

Stream of consciousness from sitting outside as it began to rain

Dear John,

I don't think I've had conversations with anyone that were as intelligent, philosophical, and exciting as ones with you. Outside of an academic setting, at least.

I have this yearning to re-connect to nature, to contemplate God, but I still sort of want to do it with you by my side. Or at least to be able to return to you after I have contemplated. And we could share what we learned and combine forces.

I am turning into a music snob! Oh no!

You said you think change is like a death, where you have to leave some things behind completely. Please don't leave me in your last life.

I am dying to call you. (This feeling is so similar to the same longing to talk to you when we were still together but you were on the other side of the country that sometimes I think it's the same, dull pain that has allowed me to survive this week.) But I don't want to appear...however. I've been waiting for news of a possible job that would move me your way or to finish this book that I think you would like. You know, to have a reason to call you. But I am too impatient to wait for either. And I am scared that you will completely ditch memories of me before that time comes.

I think I've grown out of instant messaging, but I sign on just to get a glimpse into your life. Though your one-worded away message that hasn't changed in days doesn't really help much.

Whining. It's not flattering on me. I should try writing lyrics or something instead.