What ifs and Band-Aids

Ok, this is totally unplanned. I originally had a nice, juicy, music-inspired blog itching to stream its way onto my computer screen. But something else came up, inspired by a dream I had last night involving a certain former boyfriend who I will reference from here on out as "George." Not because George is his name, but because I've always chuckled a little bit on the inside whenever I met someone named George. It's just a funny name.

Disclaimer aside, George was the one guy I couldn't shake off --- even years after our tumultuous relationship. It was pretty much the intensity of our relationship combined with a lack of real closure. So, I took my butt on down to Texas a while back to finally put some closure on the whole thing. Since then, the culmination of reading journal entries from the last five years or so, reflecting on phone conversations with George from the last three years or so, and seeing him in Texas has led me to a bunch of realizations...the most important of which, is closure.

I'm not sure how big of an issue it ever was for him, but all the "what ifs" killed me whenever I thought about George, and the direction our relationship could have taken. Seriously. The complicating factor was, he had the habit of dropping off the face of the earth, only to reappear months/years later. And honestly, every time he disappeared without a goodbye when things were “good,” he left this open wound (figuratively speaking, of course) that I eventually stuck a Band-Aid on. And then every time he reappeared, the Band-Aid was ripped off. Because I hadn't (and still haven't) ever met anyone like George. Ev-ah. And though he had his faults, (maybe more than the average Joe, actually), it's easy to forget someone's faults when the rest of them is just that stinkin' cool. And I'd push the thought of George to the back of my mind, along with the reminder that he always treated the people in his life as “flavors of the week.” Then, when he resurfaced, I'd get all excited and nervous and fluttery inside, all over again. I know --- ridiculous, right? But it still happened, like clockwork.

Anyhow, flash forward to actually *seeing* George years later. I was excited. I was nervous. And most of all, seeing him during my trip was something I *had* to do. Because I had to know. Did I feel like this after so long because this guy was actually The One who had slipped out of my life, or just because there was never any closure?

So, we didn't vomit at the sight of each other. We didn't even annoy each other so much that we never spoke again. We had, unsurprisingly, a very pleasant evening between two friends who "get" each other. He was still the same George. A little older, a little more wiser/pessimistic --- but ultimately, the same. And looking at him across the table, yes, I was still attracted to him. He's good-looking, magnetic, and funny as hell. And had there been no significant others involved at the time, we may have even dated again at some point. But, in seeing him that weekend, I was finally able to get rid of all those "what ifs."

Because though he was the same George that used to make me feel like I was on top of the world, I realized there are things about him that will never change. He is unstable and unpredictable --- qualities he and I both share. Ultimately, though these qualities make us exciting individuals to have around, we need folks like our significant others to ground us. To balance out the dreamer/irrational-being in us both. Could that balance be boring? Yes, definitely. Could it be healthier that just floating along, out of control? Yes indeedy!

I realized there's a little portion of me that will always love George, because of what we shared and what I learned during the process. But it's not unlike the same love I have for my other friends that, steadfastedly, whether or not we talk for years, I will always be there for, and vice versa.

Anyhow...I actually sent a letter to George sharing all this. I wanted him to know what was up, and where I was coming from. That way, the next time he pops into my life to say hello, he knows there's no Band-Aid being ripped off. That he is free to call me just to shoot the shit, or even holler just to ask for relationship advice. I'm not gonna get all butt-hurt because he's got someone in his life keeping him grounded. Instead, I'm gonna give him some damn good advice. ;) And the coolest part is, since we are so similar, there are times when we will talk I’ll realize something about myself just because of something he brings up. So, it's a mutually beneficial friendship.

My point is this: The flutters are gone, but George still cracks me up. And I can live with that.

I challenge all of you to consider any unfinished business with folks you care about. Take matters into your own hands, evaluate the situation, and rip the damn Band-Aid off on your own terms. The freedom you'll feel when finally Band-Aid-less can’t be matched.

Elton, Scorpions, and Tree-humping

Gawd, I love Elton John.

I'll follow that unabashed admission with this: Yes, I do know he's gay; Yes, I realize I’ll never have his children. However, it's not that kind of love. I love the fact that he has made so many songs that just ROCK. I'm not talking about the new-school, Disney-lovin' Elton John who sings about the Circle of Life. As touching as the song was on The Lion King --- and in high school chorus performances for years after --- it's nowhere near the level of old-school Elton John's music. Don't believe me? I challenge you to listen to "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues." Turn it up, and rock the fuck out.
Seriously. That song is so frickin' good, it's almost blasphemous. Everything from the bluesy-as-hell, almost fifties-pop-inspired beat, to the ingenuous lyrics are reasons to rock this song as loud as you can, chair-dancing all the way. I would go as far to say that this song's chorus has one of the best lines in pop music. Take the chorus:

"I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands, could be time spent with you.
Loving like children, living like lovers,
Rolling like thunder under the covers.
I guess that's why the call it the blues"

Holy cow! "Rollin' like thunder under the covers!"
That is frickin' MONEY. It is HOT. It describes --- in only six words --- the passionate, unforgettable, and absolutely out of control love-makin' most people only experience during rare, beautiful moments in their life. Something so fleeting, but so unforgettable, you could relive it in your head for years after the fact. And then Elton puts out this song, which, with ONE LINE, belted out in his British accent, can bring it all rushing back?

It's enough to make me wish someone would Knight him. (Actually, they already did. Which justifies the notion even more that this flaming individual rocks the house down. They don't just knight anyone nowadays...)

I’m exhausted just thinking about it all. That, and I've listened to this song turned all the way up on my ipod four times since starting this post. At this point, I'm going to have to take a reprieve to go do something magical. Or hump a tree out in the parking lot. Either way, this song is intense. And, it makes me feel invincible.

Even as I type that, I'm reminded of the power of music. It’s amazing how music has the ability to coax even the longest-stored memories out of the cobwebs of our minds. How many times has a song come on the radio that reminded you of some long-lost person or time in your life?

Whenever I hear the Scorpions screaming "Rock You Like a Hurricane," I'm transported to Iwakuni, Japan, walking home on a quiet sidewalk in 2002 with one of my favorite people after a long night of drinking, dancing, and laughing my ass off. I had that song stuck in my head, because one of the D.J.s had played it during the night (a great move, btw, b/c it's a great song). Speaking of great lyrics, "rock you like a hurricane" is also pretty money --- but in a totally big-hair-and-parachute-pants sort of way. As I pointed that out to my 2002 liberty buddy, he looked at me, raised an eye brow, and drunkenly exclaimed, "You? Hell no. For you, this song should be Rock You Like a Meteor Strike!"

I share this story not because I want you all to think I've always been a smokin' hot heartbreaker --- but that even five years later, I can't help but change the words in my head to "meteor strike" every time I hear this song. And I remember that moment, and I can't help but laugh.

It's the same way Bitchin' Camaro by Dead Milkman reminds me of tearing through Richmond, Va., in 2000 in my '83 Camaro Z-28...or how anything by Offspring reminds me of my friends Marla and Joe from 9th and 10th grade. And how Garth Brook's song, "If Tomorrow Never Comes," takes me back to my first-ever french kiss. Or how I can't ever listen to "Fishin' in the Dark" without flashing back to country nights in Iwakuni --- every time the song came on, the guys in cowboy hats would lie down on the dance floor, and their female dance partners would dance horizontally on top of them. It was enough to give “fishing” a whole new meaning…

It's almost as if the more music you listen to, the more memories you'll relive. And when you've had a life as rich with friends and great memories as I've had, you want to remember every single one of them. At the very least, music can bring back those memories otherwise erased by four years spent drinking excessive amounts of alcohol. ;)

So go forth, my good friends and bloggees! (I made it plural, though I'm sure there's only one person reading this. He's pretty much the envy of all mankind, so I'm confident others will follow in his footsteps.)

Rock out with your cock out, y’all.