...to quote myself. Yeah, I went there. Or, in this specific case, trading my freedom for song lyrics.
Whether it's the curse of the artist or the narcissism of the person-- I'm not sure, yet. But I've caught myself in a constant state of trade-- taking life's hand crafted moments, and prodding them right then into lyrical form. Maybe that seems like a good, natural thing for a songwriter. Maybe it is. But, frankly, I feel cheap. Like I'm sticking my finger on the top of an it-took-me-all-day-to-make-this homemade cake before anyone had the chance to finish singing happy birthday. Like lighting the post cigarette during the orgasm. I'm digesting the moments before I've had a chance to live the moments. It seems unfair to life's few finest. It seems unfair to me. And to anyone who listens to me.
Okay, a for-instance: I spent the better part of my 40 hour work week nannying three very charming, well behaved kids. Not a bad gig by any stretch, but seeing as I am not accustomed to the consistent presence of children (10 hours stretches), there was an afternoon where I was feeling a little overwhelmed. So, while we spent a couple hours swimming, I took that necessary moment, headed to the deep end, and plunged myself to the bottom for a minute of quiet.* It's a weird place, being underwater. Quiet. Timeless. Bright. Comfortable. And I had this thought-- what if this is what happens after death? Except with breathing?
And in this 15 seconds of seamless serenity, I picked it apart. Floating underwater in the deep end of a pool in Nashville, where I had for-- just a second-- touched eternity and fearlessness, I rattled my brain with, "Now if I just replace 'death' with 'in love,' this could be a real punch of a line..."
And then, in the process of trying to craft this song, I forgot that,
1.) I was enjoying a moment of thought and peace;
2.) Not everything has to be a scheme for songs, and;
3.) I was still underwater and therefore still not breathing.
And now, to throw a little meta into it, when I discovered this revelation of cashing in present moments for perpetual songwriting at 1AM last night, it took me only a matter or seconds to flip on the bedside lamp and scrawl on the back of a wedding invitation a couple of words so that I could remember to blog it today.
Maybe I'm a hopeless case.
Maybe someday it'll pay off. Maybe someday what I write will matter to you in your moment, since I can't appreciate it in my own. Maybe my lack of writing restraint is okay.
For me, too.
*please note that all children were secured, happy, and still supervised during this time.
