Aw, I admit it. I like this song. Also, Hayley Williams puts on a hay-ell of a show live. Like, holy moly. Also-also, she’s, like, 20. What am I doing with my life?
“The Only Exception” / Paramore (2009)
Once I had a job that I didn’t particularly like. Some days, I would become so angry at my supervisor that I would go home and spend a considerable amount of time fantasize about quitting. And for whatever reason, replaying the “march right up to him and quit right there, on the spot” scenario in my head was enough comfort to keep me going for another day or so.
At the time, I wasn’t in any sort of position to do any marching, or impromptu quitting. So I hung in there, all the while constructing elaborate scenarios in my head during which I walk out, perhaps to the cheers and applause of my co-workers.
I’m lucky enough to enjoy the job I have now, and the folks with whom (and for whom) I work. Heck, I even enjoy the people with whom I interact daily – most days. So when I go home, I have no Quitting Fantasies into which I can retreat. I don’t need them. Things are good now.
But lately, another sort of fantasy has crept into my conscious mind. This one involves quitting, yes, but not in some sort of blaze of indignant glory. Rather, I quit in favor of Something Else – some Great Adventure that’s still up my sleeve and not quite completely thought-through.
Nothing – nothing – ties me to where I am right now. Family? Yes. Friends? Yes. The convenience of a Major League Baseball Franchise that I follow with more diligence than some worship their God? Yes. But these are people to whom I can always, always return. I’ll be home for Christmas. I’ll return for a Game Night. I’ll catch a home game. Or two. But what to say of the in-between?
My friend Erin uses the term “itchy feet” to describe her urge to travel, to move on, to discover something new (and boy, has she done some traveling and moving and discovering!). And right now, I’ve got a case that absolutely nothing – short of an open-ended trip – can cure.
So what’s next? I imagine that I’ll stick around here for awhile, there’s a series of things I gots to do. But after about September-or-so, the world is pretty much my oyster.
I know that I’ve said it before, but stay tuned, I guess.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to a friend from grad school (and, by association, her brother) who first introduced me to Elliott Smith’s music. Almost as soon as I heard Figure 8 for the first time, he became my favorite artist. So on the off chance you’re reading this, thanks Jenn.
“Looking over my shoulder” / Elliott Smith (2007)*
*released posthumously. Not sure when it was actually recorded.
As also published on Facebook.
As a girl, I wanted to be like Blanche Devereaux when I grew up, before I fully comprehended what that meant. I would do what my Mom called the “Blanche Walk” through our house: shoulders back, hips in full swing, sashaying like an alleycat in heat. I wrapped floral sheets around myself, spoke in a ridiculous Southern accent, and used the word “lanai” in everday speech, though I was only vaguely aware that it was some sort of architectural feature that our house may or may not have possessed.
As a grown woman, I’m not sure my aspirations have much changed.
Rest in peace to the incomparable Rue McClanahan.