Thrilling me through

I am remarkably adept at lying to myself.

It's a talent, really.

I ride off into my delusional sunset (apologies to Sara Bareilles) and convince myself of whatever it is. I am perfectly aware of the truth*; I just refuse to acknowledge it, stubbornly clinging to my lovely little fiction.

*He doesn't love you, he's just passing the time

What can I say? It's nice while it lasts.

so he said, would it be all right if we just sat and talked for a little while,
if in exchange for your time i give you this smile?
and she said, that's okay, as long as you can make a promise not to break my little heart
and leave me all alone in the summer

Favorite Song: A Ridiculously Cheesy Metaphor

You know those old survey memes? (Maybe they're still around, it's just that my social circle's outgrown them.) They always ask for your favorite song. And for years I never had a favorite song.

I had songs I liked a lot. Songs that made me happy. I'd come up with something to answer the question.

But I had yet to encounter THE song.

The first time I heard The Hush Sound's "Honey" was a youtube video of a live performance of an early version of the song--not even the same lyrics that appear on the recording. Yet even with the imperfect first impression, my heart stirred and I've never been the same.



What I'm saying is, I never had a favorite song before I discovered "Honey." There were songs that were quite nice, songs I could tell myself were my favorite, but I knew in my heart something better was out there.

My metaphor is, of course, to romance. To the notion of finding "the one." You know you're supposed to have a favorite song (partner), and you find something that works for a while and that you quite like, but when you finally encounter that ONE song, you know in your heart that it's different from anything that came before and anything you'll ever encounter again. That it was worth the wait. That it was okay to go years without a favorite song, because nothing fits you more perfectly.

Appendix:
Evidence of my ongoing love affair with "Honey:"
January 2009
March 2009
June 2009
July 2009
November 2010
January 2011

Foreshadowing

Second weekend together with her new long-distance beau. They embrace on the couch in a borrowed living room. Her new favorite album, the soundtrack to her summer, fills the air. She teasingly sings along from time to time. In the middle of summer. He smiles silently.

Until the last track. He sings, I don't love you, I'm just passing the time.

He breaks up with her first thing in the morning.