There's a reason behind the lengthy Hot Half Life silence. I could blame it on Radio Free Chicago taking up all my time or a busy social schedule but the fact of the matter is, I've spent a disgusting amount of time over the past ten days writing blog posts on the same subject and relegating them to drafts, never to be published. All about a boy.
It's a long story and it's sadly one that can never be told in a public forum because, well, he'll read it. His friends will read it. Because they're my friends too and they do that sort of thing. And sadly, every time I launched into anything regarding him, an anecdote or a scenario or even generalizations, it was glaringly transparent who it was about. To make the whole thing veiled and to put it in a nutshell, I got my heart bruised up pretty bad by a guy who was shockingly cavalier when I met him, put on a beautiful dog and pony show to ensure I fell for him, and promptly, unceremoniously discarded me when he was through. To say more wouldn't be prudent but honestly, I didn't realize how much I had cared for the guy until recently. I mean, it makes sense that I was crazy about him. I'd never wanted to be in a real relationship until I met him. But the way he talked, the way we bantered about music, his attentive nature, the gentlemanly exterior that was dropped the minute he'd boned me, all changed my mind. I wasn't in love with him. But I could have been. He changed my feelings towards relationships. So it only makes sense that he changed me as well.
You see, I used to be cool. I used to be calm and collected and sassy and self assured and bubbly and I never second guessed myself. I was happy and excitable and always looking on the bright side. My optimism was a little disgusting.
Now, I'm neurotic. I second guess everything I do. I pour over conversations and text messages, picking apart what I sad and trying to find reasons for the guy I'm sort of pretty into right now to dislike me. I'm always prepared for the worst, as if I know it's coming. I constantly worry, I'm nervous and frazzled and needy and pathetic. And I hate it.
I didn't even realize I'd become this way until I "moved on". And coming to the realization that I was different, especially so drastically, made me angry.
But I'm not angry anymore.
I think it was Proust that said "The whole world needs an anthem." Well, either him or Phantom Planet. Same thing, really. Regardless of who said what, it's true. No matter what situation I'm going through, the moment I find a song I can relate to, everything suddenly makes sense. Tonight, I was writing another blog post about this boy that I ended up scrapping and I was listening to Jon Brion when suddenly, I realized something: I had my song.
Jon Brion's Meaningless is one of my favorite albums of all time. It's definitely top ten, if not top five and usually, when someone loves that album the way I do, I end up giving them more leeway as a person than maybe I should. Meaningless has the same affect on me as Black Sheep Boy. It's an album that encompasses a huge chunk of my life and, as is evident now, continues to be incredibly important.
I was having trouble finding anything I could relate to. It was almost as frustrating as being unable to write about my personal turmoil. Every song I heard seemed to be about being wronged and being hung up on that person who decimated the narrator's heart. I was wronged, sure. But I wasn't hung up on him. In fact, I really don't find him all that attractive anymore and I find it ridiculous how I used to fawn over him so.
"Ruin My Day", however, isn't about being still in love. It's about being completely out of love, sort of bitter about what transpired, and, despite your eagerness to let go of everything, finding yourself unable to because you were sort of put through the ringer.
I don't wait by the phone like I used to. I don't hope for kind words he might say. He doesn't prey on my mind like he used to but he can still ruin my day.
And I'm not angry about it.