You're addin' all the right colors every day, and you take the grey away.

I want to post this song, but I can't find it anywhere online - they're a pretty obscure band.

I am so happy right now!

"Things are out of line,
but it's not as bad as you think.
Just a temporary mess,
like the dishes in our kitchen sink.

Oh, I know I can be strange,
but everything's all right,
'cause I'm sleeping next to you
come the night.

You're adding all the right colors every day,
and you take the grey away.

You got that sunny sense of humor
to keep me from getting down.
You are music personified
when everyone else is just sound.

Oh, I know I can be strange
but everything's all right,
'cause I'm sleeping next to you
come the night.

You're adding all the right colors every day,
and you take the grey away."
- David Shultz and the Skyline -

You know it's useless to pretend. That's all the voices say: "You'll go right on circling until you've found some kind of friend."

A dream I had a couple nights ago. I apologize in advance.


I stood on the shoreline watching someone toss a fishing line into the water, the strong current giving her nothing more than gratuitous amounts of seaweed and false hope. It seemed she would not catch a thing.

She was certain, once again, that she had something on the other end of her line and reeled vigorously, but there was no sign that anything was fighting it – probably another patch of seaweed.

Then I saw, as if obscured by a camera lens, a blurry mass being dragged across the sand to where we stood.

I bent down and heard the softest hooting noise, so soft I could almost feel it like a blanket on my face. It pained me like the most piercing shriek.

My eyes focused and I saw that it was an owl. His feathers were drenched and matted by the unforgiving salt of the ocean. Frail wings were brutally crushed beyond repair and black eyes seemed to plead with me, for something, anything.

He let out another terrible, heartbreaking hoot, as fragile as silk, and I began to cry. What could I possibly do for this poor creature? I touched its wings very softly and one of them fell off. The owl continued to sing his gentle, barely-audible requiem as I cried and helplessly looked around me for anyone else to care – no one noticed.

Finally, I resorted to trying to pick it up to take it somewhere. I put my hands underneath and lifted. For a moment, it seemed to work, but as I regained some sense of hope, the owl dissolved between my fingers, its eyes remaining for a split second, imprinted in my mind.


I'm sorry if that was depressing. Like, ruthlessly depressing. It was something that really stayed with me when I got up, though, and I've been thinking hard about it for the last couple days. It felt vivid, as most dreams where I start to cry feel.

I don't mean to say that I'm always sobbing hysterically in my dreams or anything, because I'm not, but it does happen occasionally. This was probably the most personal and unsettling one of those dreams I've ever had, though. Usually I'm crying about something stupid.

Anyway, I just wanted to document it the best I could. A few other things happened after that, but it was all extremely fuzzy and disjointed, and it hasn't been eating away at me like this has.

I'm done now. It's time to sleep. Goodnight.

END.

Now the distance is done and search has begun - I've come to see where my beginnings have gone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEDbI2UJhXM

Please, please listen.

"Well I looked into a house I once lived in
around the time I first went on my own,
when the roads were as many as the places I had dreamed of
and my friends and I were one.

Now the distance is done and the search has begun -
I've come to see where my beginnings have gone.

Oh, the walls and the windows were still standing
and the music could be heard at the door,
where the people who kindly endured my odd questions
asked if I came very far.

And when my silence replied, they took me inside,
where their children sat playing on the floor.

Well we spoke of the changes that would find us farther on
and it left me so warm and so high,
but as I stepped back outside to the gray morning sun,
I heard that highway whisper and sigh, "Are you ready to fly?"

And I looked into the faces all passing by -
it's an ocean that will never be filled -
and the house that grows older and finally crumbles
that even love cannot rebuild.

It's a hotel at best, you're here as a guest.
You oughta make yourself at home while you're waiting for the rest.

Well, I looked into the dream of the millions,
that one day the search will be through.
Now here I stand at the edge of my embattled illusions,
looking into you.

The great song traveler passed through here,
and he opened my eyes to the view,
and I was among those who called him a prophet,
and I asked him what was true.

Until the distance had shown how the road remains alone,
now I'm looking for my life in a truth that is my own.

Well, I looked into the sky for my anthem
and the words and the music came through,
but words and music will never touch the beauty that I've seen
looking into you,
and that's true."
Jackson Browne

Help me with this. I think I have to learn something from it because it hits me kind of hard when I listen to it, but I'm not quite there yet. Please discuss.

END.

Besides, maybe this time it's different - I mean, I really think you like me.

Traces of optimism lie in the following:


Yours is the first face that I saw.
I think I was blind before I met you.
Now I don’t know where I am,
I don’t know where I’ve been,
but I know where I want to go.

And so I thought I’d let you know
that these things take forever -
I especially am slow -
but I realize that I need you
and I wondered if I could come home.

There's a wall of ice I need to smash before I can reach anything creative. It's a really thin wall, too, but it's like I'm in one of those dreams where I try to punch someone in a fight and my fist is really sluggish, like I'm underwater. It doesn't matter how thin the wall is if I can't move quickly enough to break through. Does that make sense? Probably not.

I think I lost myself somewhere in high school. It's strange how I was happier before I really had very many friends - back when my friends were the people who liked me instead of the people I could fool into thinking I was cool. Maybe that's still not true - I don't know who I consider my "friend" and who I consider just a "friendly acquaintance." There are some of my "friends" who I might even call "strangers."

Here's a secret that's probably pretty evident if you spend any time around me at all - I don't use the word "friend" or even "love" liberally at all, even though I feel that they are both fairly noncommittal in most situations.

Here's a bigger secret:

I love everyone - yes, everyone - I've met at school over the past few years. They are all good people, despite how it might sometimes seem to others. And I believe that, at least at one time or another, they have all been sincere with me - that's hard to do.

I guess having a lot of friends isn't really as important as some people think it is, or as important as I thought it was back when I was fifteen or sixteen. It's easy to think that, though, when you have friends.

Making sense is something I rarely do anymore.

So if you want to be with me,
with these things there’s no telling,
we'll just have to wait and see.
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck
than waiting to win the lottery.
Besides, maybe this time is different -
I mean, I really think you like me.

What do I think this song is about? Probably what it says it's about. What do I take away from it?

It's about seeing and understanding things for the first time - maybe understanding them so well that you're suddenly willing to put the work in to make your dreams reality, even if it's difficult, especially for you. It's deciding that working towards happiness is a better option than waiting to see if happiness happens to you.

I want to follow that happiness.

And you said, “This is the first day of my life.
I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you.
But now I don’t care, I could go anywhere with you
and I’d probably be happy.”

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you.

END.

And I am nothing of a builder, but here I dreamt I was an architect.

But the angles and the corners -
even though my work is unparalleled -
they never seemed to meet,
the structure fell about our feet,
and we were free to go.

What a sad song. It just hits you so hard in the face with the truth. No matter what happens - in any lifetime, any profession, any time, any place - they will never be together. So much love, but the stars aren't lined up right or something. It just doesn't work out. "Guess it's better to turn this way."

It's all trial and error. Until you screw up a couple times, sometimes there's no way of telling which way is better to turn.

Isn't it funny how I feel that I learn more from listening to fictional songs than I do from my own experiences, or from hearing advice from my parents or friends?

Sometimes I think that music is just a form of communication God chooses to use with me because there are so few people who I feel understand me on such a deep, meaningful level - Jackson Browne, Colin Meloy, Paul Simon, and yes, even Carly Simon on occasion - and really, it's nice to have those people understand me. They're people I will never know on a personal level, and it's very unifying to have that connection to them. It's like that whole Avatar thing where we're all part of each other and blah blah blah. You know what I mean.

And really, why would I ever not want to have a deep connection to Colin Meloy? Uh, hello - yum.

He reaches me in such a way that it makes me want to change for the better.

I think I prefer learning from music, rather than learning about music.

If you ever really want to reach me, play a song for me - I might actually listen.

And here I dreamt I was a soldier,
and I marched the streets of Birkenau,
and I recall in spring
the perfume that the air would bring
to the indolent town.
Where the barkers call the moon down,
the carnival was ringing loudly now,
and just to lay with you
there's nothing that I wouldn't do,
save lay my rifle down.

And try one, and try two,
guess it always comes down to,
all right, it's okay.
Guess it's better to turn this way.

And I am nothing of a builder,
but here I dreamt I was an architect,
and I built this balustrade
to keep you home, to keep you safe
from the outside world.
But the angles and the corners,
even though my work is unparalleled,
they never seemed to meet,
this structure fell about our feet
and we were free to go.

And try one, and try two,
guess it always comes down to,
all right, it's okay.
Guess it's better to turn this way

And here in Spain I am a Spaniard.
I will be buried with my marionettes.
Countess and courtesan
have fallen 'neath my tender hand
when their husbands were not around.
But you, my soiled teenage girlfriend,
how you furrow like a lioness.
And we are vagabonds,
we travel without seatbelts on,
and live this close to death.

And try one, and try two,
guess it always comes down to,
all right, okay, guess it's better to turn this...
But I won, so you lose.
Guess it always comes down to
All right, it's okay, guess it's better to turn this way.