I let it fall, my heart, and when it fell you rose to claim it.
I set fire to the rain, watched it pour as I touched your face.
I set fire to the rain, and I threw us into the flames.
Unfortunately, I clearly need new headphones. They do this weird scratchy thing every time I plug them into my iPod or laptop—you know? It may just be white noise, but I like to think that there is a tiny elf living inside the earbud and taking a small rake to the screen surrounding the sound buffer.
It’s irritating. More irritating though? Having to spend money on new headphones. I am sure that I could find some cheap ones in the grocery store, or Target, or Best Buy, or whatever, but that’s still $15 I don’t want to spend on something that shouldn’t be broken in the first place! I mean, c’mon Apple, make a product that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve just wasted a whole-lotta-money.
(To be fair, my iPod and iPhone are actually great products and rarely have a negative thought about them. Still: lemme complain! I don’t do it often, about trivial things, so maybe just this once? I think you’ll deal. If you can’t, click the red ‘x’ at the top of your screen on the right hand side. Sorry…that’s PC normative. Actually: not all that sorry: Macs can K my A)
But for real, these damn headphones, which I have now discovered are only damaged in the left bud, are going to drive me up the wall. You know something is wrong when you cannot even bare to listen to the key change in “Don’t You Remember?” Speaking of…
Do you ever find yourself wondering: Who did this to you, Adele? Who put you through all this pain?! Lately, I have been asking this question too often. See, her new album dropped a week or so ago and I have spent a large portion of time listening to her new tracks over and over and over again. Then I do this funky thing that I do with most music, I try and use it to narrate my life.
(As an aside, when we were introducing ourselves in my J Term years and years ago, we were asked to give the standard name, major, and interests, but we were also asked to share a super power we’d like to have:
“My name is Josh. I am a Psychology Major and English Minor. I really like music and plays and novels and video games—the usual suspects if you will. If I could have a super power, I guess I would really like to have the ability to play a loud soundtrack to my life at all times.”
Sure, I would probably choose shape-shifting if I didn’t feel like being interesting or like standing out in a crowd of students, but on the first day of class it’s very important to make a lasting impression, to assert yourself, to be that guy. Let’s just say I didn’t have much trouble.)
Yikes, that was quite the parenthetical!
Still, I have this funky habit of reading too far into lyrics and applying them to my life in ways that, often, do not warrant lyrical adaptation. Usually, the lyrical coating of my life reaches too far into meaning—I typically tap into things that aren’t really there. Now, I would like to assert that this is in no way a bad thing, just something that is rather typical of Josh Plattner.
I read. I analyze. I over analyze. I freak out. I jump. I run. I realize. I sigh. I laugh.
It’s a fun cycle, really, one that usually culminates in copious consumption of alcohol. To which I say: Cheers!
I don’t know why I’m scared, I’ve been here before. Every feeling, every word, I’ve imagined it all. You’ll never know if you never try to forgive your past and simply be mine. Dare you to let me be your—your one and only. Promise I’m worth it to hold in your arms. So come on and give me the chance to prove that I am the one who can walk that mile, until the end starts.
This is from “One and Only,” a track from Adele’s 21. It’s part of one of my favorite songs from the album. Anyway, it’s been ringing in my ears for the last few days--regardless of how very, very old it is--and I have been debating its application to my life. Part of me says: you’re crazy, Josh, this song has nothing to do with you presently. And other forces in me are literally bursting to scream these lyrics aloud in a cafe or on my way to work. That’s a nice gesture, right? A tad (read: monstrously) crazy, but still nice. And, terrifyingly, something I would actually do—I’m quite the romantic when I feel like it.
In rereading that rambling above, I audibly giggled: sometimes I’m just a little whacked.
Speaking of whacked, I’ve decided I would like to make out to some Beyonce or Ke$ha in the near future, or maybe some Azelia Banks? Nicki Minaj or The Elephant and the Whaler?
Maybe I just wanna make out?
Maybe I just wanna make out?
For now, my mind does not wander from skeezy lyrics to debatably talented musicians—though I happen to be a fan of all the above. Instead, I find solace in reaffirming everyone’s individuality in this beautiful world of ours:
‘There’s nothing wrong with loving who you are’ she said, ‘because he made you perfect babe!’