Love never asks you to lie

I need to preface this was the fact I left this site without saving the words that come after these words. Then I found out that Joseph Arthur had a slew of new songs from May 2011 and it was clearly a sign from the various serendipitous gods that haunt my life, mostly daily…so I came back here and in a very typical OD fashion, it saved my musings as long as I pushed "ok".

My complaint about what a person can do to a band stems from the shuffle mechanism in iTunes. Playing two songs in a row from the same artist is not called shuffling. This is where this entry came from….because two songs from a band I don’t listen to anymore played like a nagging child who was ignored the first time, but will not be ignored again. Radiohead is the problem. I think I used to love them, which reminds me of my love for Joseph Arthur, which reminds me how I can’t listen to either of them without memories. Only 60 songs out of 2308 are Radiohead so there shouldn’t really be a danger of them playing twice in a row. Due to my own diagnosed OCD on certain matters (like arranging music in iTunes) I know it wasn’t because Radiohead was mislabeled or without artist title. I know it is because these types of things always just happen to me. I know it is because ex thoughts just never can truly leave no matter if I am over it or not. Obviously I am a married person and the last time I checked I was in the happily married category, however I haven’t lived with that other half of me since July 25th, but I feel it will just go back to the old times.

Anyway, if I shuffle songs, I know that iTunes has something out for me and only plays songs that remind me of other times. Times that are over and not important. Why, though, must music be ruined forever? Please don’t tell me it is just me and I need to get over it. If I tell you to think of a polar bear, as I told the students today while describing setting, you will think of the polar bear. Well, if songs were the soundtrack to your life during a certain time, you will remember that certain time no matter why. Perhaps classical conditioning plays a part. Well I don’t want to play the nostalgia game. No, sir. But I do get mad that there are perfectly fantastic songs and bands out there that I cannot enjoy because I am spending more time trying to think of other things during the songs than enjoying them.

Can I tell you a story? Of course I can. I couldn’t even listen to certain songs that came on when I first started to hang out with my husband (who was clearly just an interest after I had a not so beautiful break up) in 2004…don’t even get my started on what would happen if he actually tried to kiss me or anything if a song was playing that had baggage heavily weighing down the words. I just wish that songs didn’t illicit silly, childish, long ago feelings.

I just don’t see why I have to be reminded so often, but I am sick of not listening to certain artists…I miss Damien Rice. I miss The NoTwist…I miss Joseph and Radiohead…and Blur…and others.  That’s ok. I kind of miss that connection with someone and music. I do. It doesn’t actually affect much, but there are some connections cognitively that I will miss forever and ever. And probably ever…because I also miss the written words. If I ever doubted the feelings of someone back in the day he would write something fantastically, sorrowfully beautiful….and that is why I stayed so long after I should have ended it at least the first…five times that we ended it. High schoolers are silly. Twenty-five year olds shouldn’t be bringing silly things like this up. So maybe I will stop and go to bed at 9pm like the boring old person that I have become. There just is a unexplainable connection to some people…I say. I don’t talk to this person much anymore, but we are not on bad terms. There are just so many stories of that person in this particular diary…and I just am never able to forget them since they are here and they are in every word of every song that passed through my ears those two years of high school and then mostly the grieving over our silly break up my first year of college. Blah. Blah. And blah. No need to talk about it. Actually done. Now.