Monday, December 13, 2010

Another Year Older

Last night, I suddenly had a desire to hear "A Long December," by Counting Crows. We were driving, but Katie happened to have it on her iPhone, and she played it.

I don't know what made me want to hear the song. I could remember parts of the chorus, but definitely not all of the words. Now two specific parts of the lyrics just keep rattling around in my brain. It's not like a song that's annoyingly stuck in my head; they're words that I think I was supposed to hear, even though I didn't know it when I requested the song.

It's like how Katie and I listened to "Jagged Little Pill" (the album, not just the song) recently, and realized that we are finally old enough to at least partially understand the angst and anger that went in to those songs. When we were teenagers, we only thought we got it. But now we've lived some (albeit only 30 years), and we've been hurt and hurt others, so some of that anger Alanis exhibited in those songs is a little more credible for us these days.

The lyrics from "A Long December" that I keep coming back to wouldn't have meant a damn thing to me years ago when the song first came out, or even earlier this year. But events in the last six or eight months have made it so that I hear the song a little bit differently than I once did. These lines have been playing in my head in a different order than they appear in the song, but I guess there's a reason for that.

It's December 13. I spent most of my day doing a little work and then researching different ways I might be able to better my life through education. Not too long ago, I'm sure I would have had different plans for this day. But things change. And the person who needs to hear these words that I can't get out of my head probably won't even read them. No matter. I'll just put the vibe out there anyway.

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower
About the things you could not show her.

And it's one more day up in the canyons.
And it's one more night in Hollywood.
If you think that I could be forgiven,
I wish you would.

2 comments:

Steve Sax said...

Erin: left you an email. Welcome back.

Dusty Baker said...

Thanks for reminding me to throw that album onto my ipod. It's been too long and it's too damned good to just let sit on the shelf.