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Regina Spektor's Us is an extraordinary song for me. It means two very special people to me. Firstly, it means J, who bought the album (Mary Ann Meet the Gravediggers and Other Stories) home one day, and put it on in the living room. But we only had an ancient playstation hooked up to our tiny tv, and it automatically played the enhanced bit of the cd which was the video for Us, and I was utterly transfixed. Secondly it means Lu, who told me that people play Us at their wedding because they don't understand what it's about. And I was amused, very amused. Like it was a secret joke.
I have taken to turning off the tv in the evenings recently. A long time ago my best friend's boyfriend, a stoic, no frills sort of man, told me I should watch less tv because it made me sad, and listen to music in the evening instead. I laughed then. But I think, several years on, there's something there. TV is deadening. I have it on for noise and noise alone. It is rarely on to watch, and even less frequently contains something to inspire me. I think I rejected it because as a teen I listened to about 8 hours of music a day, almost always in isolation, and it didn't make me feel good. TV became the other media, the social media, the media that was about outside spaces - spaces outside me - and not the ones inside.
I'm 29. I'm not the person I was when I was a teen. It's ok to walk the same paths - I won't end up in the same place.
Us is still a beautiful song. Huge and sweeping. Sometimes it makes me laugh and sometimes it makes me cry. Life living with J at uni was, retrospectively, glorious. I was awful to live with, a sackful of neuroses, he stuck by me with good grace and humour. We had hi jinks and stupid conversations until 4am. Knowing Lu was wonderful. And frustrating and confusing, because she was human and we were young when we first met and were awful to each other and wonderful to each other as kids are. And she was heading into adulthood the same way I was - forwards and backwards and reluctantly and willingly - which I suppose is why it's still so fundamentally perplexing why she decided to bow out early.
One song. Two people. Two huge sets of emotions.
I have taken to turning off the tv in the evenings recently. A long time ago my best friend's boyfriend, a stoic, no frills sort of man, told me I should watch less tv because it made me sad, and listen to music in the evening instead. I laughed then. But I think, several years on, there's something there. TV is deadening. I have it on for noise and noise alone. It is rarely on to watch, and even less frequently contains something to inspire me. I think I rejected it because as a teen I listened to about 8 hours of music a day, almost always in isolation, and it didn't make me feel good. TV became the other media, the social media, the media that was about outside spaces - spaces outside me - and not the ones inside.
I'm 29. I'm not the person I was when I was a teen. It's ok to walk the same paths - I won't end up in the same place.
Us is still a beautiful song. Huge and sweeping. Sometimes it makes me laugh and sometimes it makes me cry. Life living with J at uni was, retrospectively, glorious. I was awful to live with, a sackful of neuroses, he stuck by me with good grace and humour. We had hi jinks and stupid conversations until 4am. Knowing Lu was wonderful. And frustrating and confusing, because she was human and we were young when we first met and were awful to each other and wonderful to each other as kids are. And she was heading into adulthood the same way I was - forwards and backwards and reluctantly and willingly - which I suppose is why it's still so fundamentally perplexing why she decided to bow out early.
One song. Two people. Two huge sets of emotions.