Lyrics I Wish I’d Written and Sung (Alternate Title: Lyrics I Wish I’d Written and Sung and Also I Really Wish I Could Sing)

I began a really angry post about the end of our visit to the dentist today.  The kids went to use the restroom after their teeth cleaning, and while they were out, one of the hygienists asked after my son’s health status.  I said he was mostly fine, but that there were days, mercifully few in number, where he floated out there seemingly grasping for a life preserver.  She replied in an oh-so-chipper (read: utterly clueless) tone, saying that it was OK, at least it would get better.  Ummmm. . .

So you have that millisecond where you think, “Do I?  Should I?” and before you know you’ve even answered your internal inquiry, you hear yourself saying, “Actually no, it won’t get better, but we are trying to help him find ways to make things as easy as possible.”

And then the allied health professional (the restraint I’m showing NOT putting fakey quotes around professional here. . .) responds by saying, “Well, they’ll probably have a cure in like ten years because of all the medical advances.”

“Like ten years??” Well, wouldn’t that be the fucking awesomest?   It would.  But in the meantime–those of us grounded in reality?  We hope for the best, like always.  We love like crazy, you know, like it’s Thursday.  We understand that people mean well and try to be upbeat and supportive of things they don’t grasp fully.  People say things not to be dismissive, but because they HAVE TO ASK, even when they don’t actually always want to hear the answer.  It’s OK.  I get it.

So instead of the direction in which I began, I edited.  Edited heavily.  And by heavily, I mean I pretty much started over.  I thought instead of words that do make me feel upbeat and supported–words to some of the songs that sing my stories.  Without further ado, I present another episode of things I wish I’d written.  PS–I think the title of this post might just be my favorite yet. I did write that all on my own.

Hide me in a hiding place where good sense never goes.  Come ON, it’s genius, and we’ve all hidden there. More than once, probably more than twice. . .

Love will give us heart and soul and take us home. I loved it so much I bought the shirt.

I want more than ever before, I want gravy on satisfaction.  (OK, I kinda wrote that one. . .)

Why would I fall back into that shitstorm, I mean what went wrong?  Move forward, people. And we’re walking, we’re walking.

Our secret’s the star of the show.  Are you kidding me?  Every new love, every first everything that makes your tummy flutter.  You think you’re the only one who’s ever felt that whatever it is that steals your breath and makes your heart beat like a hummingbird’s. *sigh*

Drunk on wine, I’m amazing.  I totally am.  (BTW, that’s not at all the message the song intends.)

I’ve been dumped, I’ve been kicked around, now I’m ready for the big rebound.  Pretty well summed up last year, and became my rallying cry and MD/OT/PT anthem.  I would bet I’m the only person on the planet who cried during its performance in concert last tour.  Four times.

Bye-bye self-respect, I haven’t had much of it since you left, I missed out on the best of you.  He sure did.  Ancient history, but I still love the lyric.

When I come home late at night, and you’re in bed asleep, I wrap my arms around you, so I can feel you breathe.   Who doesn’t love an ’80s hair band power ballad!!  I still love this lyric, which transports me to my early 20s when insecure me longed for someone–anyone–to feel like this about me.  Long after the ’80s, I DID.  Now I know better than just hoping for an anyone, but this line is no less sweet to me.

Love’s a gamble, they say you can win the lottery. It depends on what you bet.  I won.  No, not the PowerBall.

All I want is a place in your heart to fall into, all I need is someone to love, and tonight it’s you.  Sing it to me, Robin Zander. A very intoxicated 22-year-old me met the Cheap Trick front man in a tiny little bar one night, and he was indescribably cool. He was way more decent to drunk, young me than I am sure I deserved.  That voice!!  Cool and kickass and loaded with enough swagger to knock you right out.

Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost, Anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost.  Perfection.  Right?

It’s hard to keep your mouth shut, harder still to make noise. But we can’t have the perfect 20-20 hindsight that our fate enjoys.  Word.

All the world’s indeed a stage, and we are merely players, Performers and portrayers, Each another’s audience outside the gilded cage.  Limelight changed my life. While I love this line, what I worship most about this song is one singular note in the guitar solo that screams, yet somehow rings mournfully while it hollers against Geddy’s bass line leading back into the chorus. GOOSE. BUMPS. Still. Every single time.

Worked out that I’ve probably made a mistake for every thing I’ve done right.  Probably more in favor of the I screwed up side of the equation if I really thought about it, so let’s not!  I would D. I. E. to hear this song live.

It’s the perfect time of year, somewhere far away from here. I feel fine enough I guess, considering everything’s a mess.  Sure, we launch our lingerie onto the stage when this song is played, but it’s actually a happy-sounding little tune about depression.  To me, this lyric perfectly captures that malaise, that feeling of complete inert-ness, when you know enough to know you should want to get out of bed, but just don’t believe you possibly could.

I will shoulder the weight you’ll need. I will shoulder the winter snow.  What we do to honor those we love, and to help those we love work through loss.

The odds are that we will probably be all right.  And then sometimes the odds tell you to go fuck yourself.

But I’ll throw my hands up and drag myself through, And I’ll kick my feet cause I’ve learned to crawl.  Perseverance.

Despite the pretty dress and curls, you don’t throw like other girls, you follow through.  Give it up for strong, smart girls, even when we are breaking your heart.  If we are breaking your heart, you probably had it coming.  You want to come on back?  You gotta earn it, pal.

I’ll have a happy new year next year, ’cause things aren’t going good ’round here.  I discovered this song in June, 2015, and glommed onto it like it was my job, and with it, pinned my hopes for a better 2016.  So far, so good this spin around the sun.

I get a feeling when I look at you, wherever you go now I want to be there too, They say we’re crazy but I just don’t care, And if they keep on talking still they get nowhere.  I LOVED the Tracey Ullman version of They Don’t Know, and I heard it on the radio on my way home from one of my first dates with my husband, after not having heard it for probably 15 years.  I SWORE It was a sign. Tom was Paul McCartney to my bathrobe-clad (though not pregnant) Tracey cart dancing in the grocery store aisle.  They DON’T know!  And when you’re crazy in love?  You’re certain you’re the only one who’s ever felt that way, that completely, that perfectly.

Don’t know what’s got ahold of me, it’s greater than gravity. *drops mic*


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