This week has been one of the hardest in a while. Like not good, hardest, ugly – lowest of the low. It has been non-stop craziness for quite some time. I keep thinking, “I just want something good for awhile.” Yikes, how depressing is that? In brighter news, things are looking a little better, as of today. Here are a few things I have learned (or am learning) the hard way:
1. Therapy is a gift as an adult. While I have grief (and some trauma from the recent past) to work my way through – even without that, I truly believe it’s a huge blessing. If you can afford it, it’s well worth your time. I have gained so much and will continue to. It took me nearly a year of living in my new state to find a new therapist. It’s absolutely worth it.
2. Let them. Or in this case, let him. Thanks to Mel Robbins, I’m repeating this a lot right now. You can watch her video about it, here. But the short version is found in her caption that accompanied the video, “Stop wasting energy on trying to get other people to meet YOUR expectations. Just LET THEM show you who they truly are. And then YOU get to choose what you do next.” Let him. I have absolutely let him and then when he made his choice, I decided to stop wasting my energy and let him go. There’s so much freedom in letting go. It has taken me some time to get here though. Unfortunately, it has been rough getting to this point. But as of Thursday, May 16th, it’s feeling pretty damn good – which is a lovely turn of events.
3. I am learning to sit with my discomfort and pain. It is super hard. But it is a good thing in the long run. If you’re running from yours, maybe reconsider? I’m convinced, especially after the lowest I’ve ever been – it’s the only way to hope and healing. May is Mental Health Awareness Month and we are (at least in the U.S.) continuously sinking lower in terms of our health and well being. I think there are a few reasons for that. Regardless of the why, I choose to “go first” and share some of my experiences, because I know there are others out there struggling silently. If you’re second guessing yourself in terms of seeking help, I just wanted to share that it’s okay to acknowledge you need it. It’s okay. If you’re looking for a way to test the waters, I love the Being Well podcast, embedded above. You can also find it here: https://rickhanson.com/being-well-podcast/.
“You can’t logic your way out of pain; you have to feel your way through pain.” – Najwa Zebian
“This hope is treacherous This daydream is dangerous This hope is treacherous” – Taylor Swift/Daniel Wilson
Everything makes sense again. But it took nearly a year before it did. Kurt simply left. No fanfare. No argument. No conversation. He was gone – just like that. All the shit he brought into my life, was left there for me to clean out and clean up. How like him. I’d been living in a foreign land I didn’t recognize for quite some time before he left though. Everything was turned around – front was back, back was front, flipped upside down, and thrown back down with a thud. At a steady clip – without a break, one after another, life took. It took and took – until I didn’t have any strength left.
When life stopped sounding like a song, the day his walking out settled in – I didn’t think recovery was possible. A hole opened in the floor, and I fell through to the darkest pit I’ve ever fallen through. I feared I’d never claw my way out. But there’s a split-second decision when the night is darkest. It’s literally one moment, one moment of faith, one moment of hope. There is one brief and bright flash of the clearest, and warmest light you’ve ever seen. You either grab it and hold on harder than you ever held on before – or you let it go.
I grabbed a hold and didn’t let go.
***
One foot in front of the other, I fought my way out until one day, while hiking, a slow creep of contentment and joy took over. You know the feeling – you’re not exactly happy, but it’s somehow better. It was in this state of mind that I bought a ticket to Scotland with no real plan about how long I’d stay, where I’d go, or what I’d do while I was there. I only knew for sure that when you no longer want to die, you just do whatever the hell you want. There’s always something to celebrate now. Sitting outside The Milkman in Edinburgh, two weeks into my trip, after a couple of days of playing tourist, I watched this tiny corner of old town Edinburgh come alive, with the best cup of coffee I’d had in weeks, in my hands. I didn’t see him until he was standing in front of me – blocking the entrance to the coffee shop. I was in a daydreamy and contented trance until then. I didn’t realize who it was until my brain registered his voice – a voice I knew like my own.
“How is it that I fly across the pond and run into my favorite nurse – who I haven’t seen at home in . . . what is it now, a year?”
I looked up into the sunshine and there was Andy. In an instant, everything felt right side up again. “Wow. How are you? It has been too long. How is everyone? Is everyone doing okay?” Andrew, the son of a former patient, had become a friend during his mother’s long hospital stay. That’s probably the wrong word. Friend doesn’t quite cut it. I fell in love with him. I should not have. But I did just the same. But even had I not, his entire family had become like my own. I adored every last one of them. There was no option but to ignore it at the time. The timing was all wrong for both of us – but for me in particular, professionally it just wasn’t possible. I was in it for the long haul with Andy’s mom, through her cancer battle, from start to finish. It was a line I couldn’t cross though I wanted to – every single time I saw him and every time we talked. Even when I’d talk myself out of the feelings, they’d come back in an instant, the moment he would walk into the room. All of my resolve would disappear. The truth is, I’d never felt more at home with anyone, despite the moments of tension that seemed to hang in the air between us half the time. The elephant in the room was what we wanted and couldn’t have – each other. Like an electric current running between and around us, the tension kept us close, but not as close as we wanted. The timing was all wrong though. But there was nothing to be done about it.
“We are all doing okay. We miss mom. But we’re okay. I’m oddly busier than normal now. I’ve made time for travel though. It looks like you have too.”
“I needed a change of scenery. I changed hospitals. I gave myself a buffer of a month in between leaving St. Joseph’s and starting at GW, and here I am. Now that I’ve made the trip, it’s going to have to be a regular thing.” We chatted for a couple of minutes before he excused himself to get coffee. While he was in the shop, I engaged in an absolutely unhinged fit of overthinking about whether he’d stay and talk to me longer. But before he walked back out, I opted to jump off the crazy train and instead choose what has become my new mantra – acceptance. I accept whatever comes. That includes talking to the one that got away, for a while longer, or waving as he leaves, never to see him again. Either way, I have to accept it. Even if it stings.
When Andy walks out of The Milkman, with a pastry plate and his mug, I know he plans on sticking around. Rather than heading to another table, he sits at mine, as if there is no other option. “So, what’s the best part of your trip so far?” he asks. He smiles the smile that I’d had to force myself to forget for a good long while. Between his hazel eyes, that I always loved so much – and his mischievous smile, I quickly reconnect with every single hope I ever had for the two of us. The fact that I can even feel this right now is not lost on me.
Three hours later we were still together – as our morning of people-watching and catching up, gave way to early afternoon. By the end of the third hour, I can’t deny any longer that I’ve now remembered what it feels like to be happy. We walk to the inn where I’m staying. We are so close we bump into each as we walk. As I’m about to say my goodbyes, he says, “Anything I can do to convince you to spend the rest of your trip with me?”
We stand face to face, on the busy cobblestone street not far from The Milkman. “I don’t-I-,” I hesitate. I see my hesitation register on his face for a split second and before I can protest and maybe before he loses heart, Andy takes my hand in his. His hand engulfs mine as he lifts it to his mouth and kisses it softly. Despite my hesitation, he is not deterred. “I was not expecting you right now.”
“I know. But you have to admit it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore it. We stumbled onto each other in a city of like 530,000 people, across an ocean from where we live. I think we should take that as a sign.”
“You think?” I ask, smiling.
“Oh yeah. For sure. It’s a sign,” he says, kissing my hand again.
***
Time is our greatest gift. It also gives us a lot of perspective. Unfortunately, the perspective usually comes after the healing – not before. The thing about Andy is that long before he was mine, he’d come to symbolize what I most wanted in life and what I feared I’d never have. But Andy and I just needed a little time to cook. It turns out that the hole I fell into after Kurt left, wasn’t a hole. It was the door to freedom.
Some things don’t change – like the coast of central and northern California. I left San Francisco hours ago, driving south, stopping to snap photos, as if I were a tourist – as if my Granddad didn’t own thousands of acres of land where I’d spent summers, Christmas vacations, and some of my dad’s deployments. The further south you drive, the more clear the air becomes, the Cypress trees become more slanted, as they’re blown in the wicked wind. The craggy cliffs, etched with time, the wind, and the salt water and air – are reminders of what this place would have been like long before this land was ours – or anyone’s for that matter. The Redwoods grow thicker together on the other side of the highway and the approaching wisps of fog sitting off the coast, are a cozy reminder – of what makes this coastline, home. I was born here. Though my Dad’s job took us away from this place for a good portion of my life, I moved here, to live with my Grandparents to finish high school and start college. It’s also where I gave birth to my son, as a young 20 year old, uncertain about everything – including my ability to be a mother.
My son was born screaming like a wild banshee, just like his mother. But unlike me, it’s the loudest he’s ever been in his life. He is tall and broad – bigger than most 14 year olds. He is thoughtful, kind, and wise. He’s an old soul – like his father. Two days ago, I left him at my sister’s house and drove into San Francisco. He thinks I left for a meeting with one of the shops that sells our wine. I did see them while I was there, but that’s not why I went. I went because I’d been summoned by the last person I expected to hear from. I had no idea what to expect when his name slipped into my text messages casually – as if he texted me every day. Before getting home, I pull into a rest stop and walk the path out to the cliffs. There’s a canopy of Cypress trees that grows over the path. These trees are found only on the California Coast – Monterey Cypress they’re called. They’re unique – in all the world to this place. The sight of them instantly calms me as does the fog unfurling over the land. They’re home. When you look up, because of the way the wind has twisted and bent them, you can’t tell where one tree ends and the next begins. The wind whips through here with ferocity and as always, I’m glad I grabbed my jacket. The air swirled around me, warming and peaceful, when I got out of the car – but it’s chilly out here on the cliff. I stop at the outlook and take a seat on a bench. It’s the middle of a Monday, just before the tourist season begins this coming weekend – so there is no one around. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I haven’t seen Graham Ford in 15 years and after seeing him this weekend, I knew it would feel like this. I knew I’d be lost and fighting my way to the surface. The longer than normal drive home is necessary, while I wrap my brain around seeing him again.
Autumn 2020 The light on an early autumn evening is a sight to behold. But there’s something extra magical to the golden glow of mountain light. Out here, where the Blue Ridge meets the Smoky mountains, the light filters through the trees, teasing us with reminders of the lazy days of summer that have passed us by, and whispering to us that the gray winter is at our doorstep. It was this light that drew Arden Stewart to Maple Grove, North Carolina in the autumn of 2020. She’d driven east until the light called her home, after her life quite literally went up in flames.
The thing about fires is that they don’t ask for your permission, they don’t consider your opinion, and they don’t discriminate. They lay waste to everything in their path. What Arden had going for her was a determination that had been burned into her as a child. After the fire, she left the brown and scarred hillsides of Southern California forever, with no forethought or plan. She had clothes and personal belongings in duffel bags and black trash bags stuffed into every nook and cranny of her SUV when she left the burned out hull of her life. When you choose the hillsides of California as home, you’d think you would spend more time thinking about what you would take with you in a fire. But it wasn’t until recently that she’d made a plan for her most treasured belongings and clothes. Last fire season, as she watched fires rage twenty minutes from her house, she tapped out a list on her phone of what she wanted to take with her, so she would be ready. Just in case. When she was told to leave her home, a home built in the 1940s, deep in one of Orange Counties dark canyons, she packed what she could, as fast as she could – ticking off items from the checklist on her phone, as she went.
Since the day of the fire, Arden had begun to see the destruction it wrought as some kind of weird metaphor for her life. Arden was the fire, burning through life, leaving blackened, charred rubble in her wake. The message repeated itself over and over again – she was the fire. When she arrived in the mountains of North Carolina, after thirty-days of meandering across the country, the light on the Blue Ridge Parkway, on a quiet Monday in October, drew her to a turnout. She ventured out to the edge of the stone overlook. The mountain views and the valley before her were in shades of green, orange, red, and yellow. The light beckoned her, as if it had a voice and could call her by name. It radiated around her. For the first time since she’d hit the Smoky mountains in Tennessee, she was warm. And not the warmth from the anxiety that had been taking over her entire body since the day of the fire. That warmth felt as hot as the Silverado fire itself – the fire that had taken nearly all of her physical possessions from her. This warmth was something new entirely.
Just like that, she knew it was time to stop driving.
March-May have become long slogs of confusion and pain – since May 2022, when my brother died. In a moment I can only feel regret for now, in the midst of grief over him and what should have been with my dad, I chose to change my life in a way that I still regret. I wished I hadn’t left what I knew best. I hope someday I can forgive myself for leaving a place where I was valued and where I knew I’d always make a difference. When the personal wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped, at least I had work to fall back on, as a sign that I was where I was supposed to be – making a difference in people’s lives.
A year later, I am deep in grief, far from where I want to be, almost as alone as I’ve ever been, and not making a damn bit of difference in my professional life (to make it all worth it). Somewhere in this mess though, I started crying again last week and that’s been pretty helpful. Lol!!! I couldn’t cry for the life of me for a while. Even when I knew I needed it. The thing about grief and pain is you have to feel it to get past it. There’s no way out, but through. I need to cry. I needed to feel the pain (that’s not letting go now). I wish that I’d had enough presence of mind in the midst of the first days, to say no and to stay where at least I could make a difference.
The grief is too much. The alone is too much. Life is nothing I’d hoped and prayed and waited for – which is too much. It’s not just my brother and dad. This all started when I said goodbye to my {foster} son after losing my first child. I haven’t been the same. I am a different person. It is agony. It’s supposed to hurt though. Being afraid to feel it only keeps us in it – or numb. Neither of which are healthy options. I can’t do it alone anymore though. Somewhere along this path, I hope to find myself again – as I find healing and hope.
The grief and the pain are too much. Being alone in the midst of this is too much. I’m okay with admitting this now. Let the hope & healing begin…
Art by Illuminated Rainbow Valley & available for purchase, here.
It is never quite safe to think we have done with life. When we imagine we have finished our story fate has a trick of turning the page and showing us yet another chapter. – L.M. Montgomery
I’m ready for another chapter. I’m ready for a chapter with family. I’m ready for another chapter that doesn’t involve living day to day without a partner and companion. I’m ready for another chapter that is full of good health and contentment. I’m moving forward at a steady clip – until I find it.
Were you jealous? Did the way he smiled at me make you wonder? Were you uncomfortable with how close I stood to him? Did your mind race? Did it matter that when we stopped talking, the first thing I did was to search for you?
We move in perfect tandem. Have you noticed? Did you know it feels like home? I was just wondering.
When I walked away, did you explore my face and eyes for a sign that you’re the one? Does it matter that you are? I was just wondering. Did it matter that I explained? Did it matter that I didn’t want to explain – but did. I owe you nothing. Does that matter to you?
Have you asked yourself how we got here? Did you wonder why you were jealous? You were, weren’t you? Were you uncomfortable that I was with him and not you? I was just wondering.
Do you feel flattered? Will it matter? Will it matter to you that I go home alone? Does that matter to you? I was just wondering.
Each day turns – it’s the same thing over and over – I go on alone. I could solve this matter quickly and easily. I have the upper hand. But the ball will not be be in my court, until the moment you stand on my doorstep.
Do you know why? I was just wondering. Do you know how happy we will be? You feel it all of the time. I know you do. Do you know how happy our song will be? I was just wondering.
I’m taking a little break from The Tortured Poets Department posts for a few days while I detox (lol) from all the noise of weird takes. I’m regretting being on social media for this release – which I’ve never done before. Social media is awesome and horrible at the same time. For the most part, I’m just shocked at how little people understand context, metaphors, etc. It’s disturbing, to be honest. I can only control the algorithm to a degree. 🤦🏽♀️
Anywho, this song. Phew. Not on my list of faves (until today). Now I’m all over it.
“I’ll tell you one thing…”
“I haven’t decided yet…”
“… I, I hear the whispers in your eyes I’ll make you wanna think twice You’ll find that you were never not mine You’re mine
… Small talk, big love Act like I don’t care what you did I’m an Aston Martin That you steered straight into the ditch Then ran and hid
… And I’ll tell you one thing, honey”
I mean, okay. That’s what I’m saying. Tread carefully.
Disclaimer: I am consistently discovering new things about TTPD that give it new meaning or greater depth to the album. For instance, this evening, I’ve gone on a bit of a deep dive on Sylvia Plath – thanks to some social media creators I enjoy (linked to below). The Tortured Poets Department is a “book” of poetry and about tortured poets. With that in mind, I’m sharing things here that I think are important to think about as a foundation for going into TTPD – mostly in response to criticism of her work. But at this time, we are all still uncovering new connections and layers to this work. As a result, my views may shift over time.Finally, though I focus on It Hits Different from Midnights, Dear Reader is also an important song to consider as we move into TTPD. She sings in that song, “Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart” and “You should find another/Guiding light/But I shine so bright/You should find another.” These are important to consider, as well. She was letting everyone know she was tortured – before we got TTPD.
The Tortured Poets Department (TTPD) was released on 4/19/24 as a double album – 31 songs total. It’s hard for me to say now how this album will change over time in terms of my favorite of Swift’s albums. But for now, it’s in a very clear 2nd or 3rd favorite bumping 1989 down (so sorry, my dear 1989). It’s a lot to unpack. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to have fully unpacked it in the last week. Be wary of anyone – especially critics – who say they have. Even this evening, I’ve been given new things to consider, thanks to @nikkiking23 & @modernidiot on TikTok.
1. Taylor Alison Swift relies heavily in her writing, on things like repeating imagery, colors, and, repeating/reoccurring themes {including literary themes} – to name just a few. In recent years, I believe her works are tied with a common string – though the albums have been very different from each other. The bottom line is that I don’t think you can understand TTPD without thinking about the entirety of her work. I think many themes are repeated in TTPD, intentionally – that you need an understanding of her work to fully grasp. The final song of TTPD, “The Manuscript” and the “Fortnight” video certainly lead one to believe we should see it through the entirety of her work.
The Tweet says it all by pointing out the dates on the bottle of “Forget Him” pills.
2. Her last album (non TV release that is) was Midnights. The Til Dawn Edition ends with “It Hits Different.” You can watch the lyric video, here. But there are a few themes that lead us directly into TTPD. I think it’s obvious it’s a song about a relationship that has fallen apart. Here are some important lyrics from “It Hits Different.”
“Movin’ on was always easy for me to do It hits different It hits different ’cause it’s you (‘Cause it’s you)”
“I find the artifacts, cried over a hat Cursed the space that I needed I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin’ You were the one that I loved”
“I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway (hallways are an important repeating theme) Is that your key in the door? Is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away? To take me away” Songwriters: Aaron Brooking Dessner / Jack Michael Antonoff / Taylor Alison Swift
Here is one the poems that Taylor has included in TTPD:
Evidence is a word that appears in marketing and within this poem and ties back to It Hits Different
From The Black Dog Variant (CD) of TTPD…
Photo by Elaina M. Avalos. The use of the word “artifacts” is another tie to It Hits Different/Midnights.
We leave the Midnights Era with Taylor writing about evidence, artifacts, and her questioning her sanity {or have they come to take me away?}. The hallway thing is also a repeating theme. But I digress. We leave Midnights with this bop. It’s so catchy and fun – or is it? It is a sad bop and she’s telling us a relationship was falling apart {or had already}. If you back up a song, in “Dear Reader,” Taylor repeats another theme we find in TTPD – which I believe is her letting us see the un-curated, messy version of herself – she’s not the perfectly and carefully branded superstar we always see. Don’t take advice from someone falling apart, she sings. Midnights was supposed to be about “13 sleepless nights” over Swift’s life. Perhaps TTPD is the 14th “night” {making it a fortnight}?
Using “Fortnight” as the album opener has led some to criticize Swift for starting the album this way. They insist there were better songs to start the album. In some cases this seemingly odd start leads them to question the album as a whole. But I think Taylor had a reason – probably a few reasons – for starting The Tortured Poets Department this way. For one, it starts this way . . .
“I was supposed to be sent away But they forgot to come and get me I was a functioning alcoholic ‘Til nobody noticed my new aesthetic All of this to say I hope you’re okay But you’re the reason And no one here’s to blame But what about your quiet treason?” Songwriters: Austin Post / Jack Antonoff / Taylor Swift
The first two lines are about being “sent away.” This directly leads us back to “It Hits Different” on Midnights, where she writes:
I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway Is that your key in the door? Is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away? To take me away
Swift is very quickly painting a picture in the opening lines of The Tortured Poets Department – she is tortured, feels crazy, and imagines {at the very least} that she should be committed. She is, after all, The Chairman of the Tortured Poets Department. In the music video for Fortnight, I think this becomes more clear. I also think this video probably gives us some Easter Eggs for music videos or themes {black dog, Clara Bow maybe, etc. } to come. But I digress.
In the opening scene of the video, Swift is chained to a bed, wearing a white {wedding} dress {complete with bridal garter}. A nurse enters and we know as she walks in, that the room is upside down {her life was turned upside down}, as soon as we see the nurse. She’s chained to a bed, in an upside room – wearing a dress {likely a wedding dress}. She’s given a “miracle move-on drug” from a bottle labeled “Forget Him.” It’s a temporary fix she tells us – from her current vantage point {“Time, doesn’t it give some perspective” she sings later in the album}.” We find her in the insane asylum where Midnights foreshadowed she thought she should be. Once the pill goes down . . . we enter into what may signify other time periods in Swift’s life – past and present. I’m not sure about this. At the very least, I am pretty confident that we cannot separate what’s come before in Taylor’s music or life for what happens in the 31 songs of TTPD.
I think it’s important to note that I think this song, like some others on TTPD is braiding together a variety of timelines, people/loves, and themes. I know that with the mention of the forget him pill, people are assigning this to a song about a specific person. I think it’s possible it’s about more than one person. I also think it’s highlighting the confusion and nonsense one experiences when they’re heartbroken, try to move on, and then are quickly heartbroken again. It’s backwards, bizarro world {she was upside down in the room} and disorienting. Nothing makes sense. The lyrics feel disjointed at times because she is disjointed and rocked from her foundation. Her emotions are extreme because she was utterly devastated . It’s pretty relatable if you ask me.
By the end of 2023, after Taylor had set countless records on the Eras tour, with Midnights on the charts, and was dating Travis Kelce. It was at that time that she released a song for streaming – that many of us had not heard. I’m sure that had it been released with the rest of Midnights, fans would have known for certain there was trouble in her relationship. Fan’s hearts were pretty broken for her as most {finally} came to the realization that folklore, evermore, and Midnightsmay contain some autobiographical songs about an unhappy relationship/breakup. The song, “You’re Losing Me” with Taylor’s heart literally beating in the background, has come to demonstrate the lifeless and “grey” way she felt at the end of her longtime relationship. Or so we suppose. In a now infamous and messy response to fan’s begging for a date for when the song was written, her friend and longtime producer/co-writer, Jack Antonoff released this photo and caption about “You’re Losing Me.”
This song is absolutely devastating – but also relatable to anyone who has suffered a life altering heartbreak. This is what we have to take into TTPD. For new fans, critics who don’t dive deep enough, or Taylor haters/Swiftie-baters, this is what they are missing. They don’t understand because they don’t dig deep. They don’t understand because they don’t understand what came before it. Her work has to be seen as a continuing story – at least in relation to this album. Additionally, a huge fault in criticisms of TTPD is the inability or unwillingness to understand metaphor, hyperbole, similes, etc. There are literally countless videos out there of people harping on her use of certain words or ideas, without considering that there’s a deeper layer or meaning. It has gotten ridiculous and exhausting, to be honest.
In one example of this, “But Daddy I Love Him” was immediately assigned as being about a certain lead singer of a band that Taylor has known for more than a decade and dated for a short time between her break-up from a longtime boyfriend. There were many fans who were angry with Taylor for dating this bloke. I have no opinion to offer on that. A Swiftie I know criticized the song as making light of her dating a “problematic” man. This person missed the point entirely. Frankly, the song may be about any and all of Taylor’s lovers {or none of them}. What the song is ultimately getting to is that she’s sick and tired of fans, the media, and the sanctimonious “Sarahs and Hannahs” clutching their pearls over her love life. Taylor is pissed – in this absolutely fun bop. She sounds like she’s absolutely sick of it all. I can’t say I blame her.
I think there’s a chance that in this song she is using that braiding method and it may be about more than one person – if truly autobiographical. For instance, I think the end could be about someone/something different than the beginning. “The Albatross” gives me reason to see this possibility. But that’s another story. Even if it’s not, it’s surely meant to call into question the behavior of those who would judge a person they don’t truly know. The song is hilarious too – which makes it even more of a fun bop. On Tik Tok, users have been posting their TTPD reaction videos. Countless reactions to these lyrics have been hilarious:
Now I’m running with my dress unbuttoned Screaming “But Daddy I love him!” I’m having his baby No, I’m not, but you should see your faces Songwriters: Taylor Swift / Aaron Brooking Dessner
Swift has “liked” some of these videos making them that much funnier to me. Here’s an example. Taylor “broke the fourth” wall on a few songs on this album – including this song. It further illustrates, in my opinion, that Taylor is talking to us {fans included}. The thing is, this condemnation and butting in where it’s not our business, has happened in numerous situations in Taylor’s dating life. To be honest, her romance with Travis Kelce has had its fair share of criticism from the people {and dads, Brads & Chads} who call her all kinds of names including a witch, demon, or the most ridiculous yet – the mother of the anti-christ. Some “Christians” are gross. This has been going on in her life for a very long time.
Which brings me back to my point, The Tortured Poets Department should be viewed through the lens of Swift’s entire work and life as a whole. Which brings me to the thing I most fear about what this album means for us as fans. I think there’s a chance this is Taylor closing the door to her tour and recording life {at least for now}. This feels like a goodbye. She’s released 31 songs, is on this record setting tour, has two more “Taylor’s Versions” to release {Reputation & Debut}. She’s the most prolific songwriter I’ve ever seen. This feels like she’s closing a chapter. If that’s what this is . . . I’m excited and happy for her. I’m happy if it means she’ll be making movies, or writing books, or both. I’m happy if it means she produces music or directs movies. I’m happy if it means marriage and kids – because I know she wants family life {and this record is a sad reminder of that}. But I’m a little sad I won’t make it to Eras if that’s the case. It feels like it’s an ending {see the dates in the Tweet above}. Maybe she’s entered a new season and that’s all this means. But no matter what, and for that reason, I think it’s extremely important that we tie all of Taylor’s work together as we “interpret” it. I think we need to accept that it may be about multiple people, or people we don’t know about. Or maybe she’s tying her life to the lives of other tortured poets {like Sylvia Plath for instance}. In “The Manuscript” she seems to look back at multiple love affairs in one song. At the end we know she’s letting us know the story isn’t hers anymore. That’s what happens when we release our art into the world.
Photo by Elaina M. Avalos
If you’re a casual or new fan, I can understand a little of the confusion one may feel when trying to understand what Taylor Swift is doing with The Tortured Poets Department. I am still working my way through. But I do know that as a foundation, we can’t walk into TTPD without, at the very least, starting with Midnights. For those who feel it’s chaotic – that’s fair. But that’s what happens when we’re heartbroken and questioning literally everything. Fortnight is the single and opens this album as a continuation of what has come before it. In this 14th night of Swift’s life and career, we can’t understand without digging deep and uncovering the layers.
As a tortured novelist, who lives with a lot of grief hanging around these days, I relate to more of this album than I can explain right now. I also understand that what is true of our writing is often not clear to the reader or listener on first read or listen. Truthfully what inspired the writing of the novel, lyric, or poem from our own lives may never be fully seen or understood. We only know in part – unless the artist themselves shares the full story. But we can and should approach some art with a better foundation that helps us dig deeper. And taking into consideration Swift as a whole is necessary as you dive into TTPD.
“Please I’ve been on my knees Change the prophecy Don’t want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?” – Aaron Dessner & Taylor Swift
First things first, The Prophecy is my song. I claim it.
I can’t really process The Tortured Poets Department yet. I’ll be working my way through the double album – 31 songs total – for quite some time. But I’ve listened so many times since 12:00 AM, so I’m off to a good start. After the album was available for streaming, Swifties realized there was a new countdown on Taylor’s IG – counting down to 2:00 AM. ✌️ The twos were two-ing and have been. While there were many who thought we may get some extra songs (like Midnights Till Dawn edition) I kept hoping my favorite Swift creators were reading the tea leaves correctly (a double album).
It turns out the ✌️ was leading us to a double album at 2:00 AM. I said I wouldn’t be able to stay up and listen to the additional 15 songs. And then I did. I finally fell asleep sometime after 3:00 AM. I’ve been processing all day. I don’t think there are any skips on this record. I have a few favorites. But I think over time, I’ll add more as I process meaning.
1. The Prophecy – This song instantly became my favorite. It could become my favorite Taylor Alison Swift song of all the times. How is it that one of the most famous musicians in the world can write a song that feels like my life? I don’t know, dudes. But this song is . . . a lot. In a good way.
“But even statues crumble if they’re made to wait . . . “
2. Down Bad – It just feels like broken heart anger and who doesn’t need a little of that in their lives at times?
3. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys
4. Florida!!!
Taylor & Florence sound amazing together. This song is a banger. I’m not gonna lie, as a Hurricane Florence hater, this line, sung by Florence, gave me a little PTSD . . . The hurricane was my name when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away Nonetheless, it’s a banger.
5. But Daddy I Love Him – This song is something else let me tell you. I’m gonna go ahead and call it – this song is deeper than what some are assuming right now. I may come back to this later. Bottom line? She’s tired of our bitching and moaning. I love her (even more) for it.
And . . . The Black Dog could be tied with #5 . This is a heartbreaker.
To be honest, other than The Prophecy – this list feels sacrilegious. It’s gonna change for sure. 🙂 What I know for sure is that this album is nothing I thought and everything I wanted. The second album is full of Aaron Dessner and Taylor collaborations. They’re absolute magic together – which is why I’m certain the bottom four in my top five will likely change.
I wanted to share another favorite deep dive on a song, but I don’t have the energy to dig deep – after a tiring week (how is it only Tuesday?). So here are a few things I’m loving at the moment. What are some of the things you’re loving right now?
Hozier . . . Too Sweet.“I take my whiskey neat.”
Only Murders in the Building
How did I miss this when it first aired? I watched all three seasons of this hilarious and suspenseful show recently. I can’t wait for the next season. Steve Martin is one of my favorites so I don’t know how I spaced on this one. Steve Martin, Martin Short, & Selena Gomez are quite the true crime trio (that I didn’t know I needed). Related/unrelated, Selena released one of my favorite songs of 2019-2020-ish. Side note, 2019-2020-ish was quite the year for favorite songs (and albums).
Suits This another show I should not have missed the first time around. I’m still in season 1, but I am already a fan. This 10 minutes gives you some insight into the show (if you haven’t heard about it).
So begins one of my all time favorite songs {written by Jack Michael Antonoff & Taylor A. Swift}. Whether it’s the music itself or the lyrics, there’s something so beautiful and hopeful about this song. Swift has said via the Long Pond Studio Sessions {available on Disney+} and during the Eras Tour, that august is one of several “fictional” songs on folklore – telling the story of a teenage love triangle. She has named the characters in this triangle – Betty, James, and Augustine {or so we think it’s Augustine}. I am not here to say I disagree with the writer of said lyrics. But I don’t exactly believe this story is all fiction, either. But I digress.
The song august, on its surface, sounds like summer love. The opening lines immediately transport me to my life living near the Carolina coast. Salt air is deeply healing to me. Some of my best thinking/plotting of fiction has come from long walks on North Carolina barrier islands {North Topsail Island is my favorite} as the warmth of summer comingles with the salt and moisture in the air. But, when left to its own devices, salt air is corrosive. While this song immediately transports me and instantly conjures the sweetness of falling in love – there’s also an instantaneous reminder that the salt air and the wildness of the ocean can pretty quickly turn on you. Though the song will always sound wistful and romantic to me, the word rust making an appearance in the opening line is probably a good thing to keep in mind.
The song conjures images of love and romance and passion. Between the wine, the sun, the twisted bedsheets, and the canceled plans {for the hope of meeting up with her love}, you’re pulled along into this windy, twirly, world of summer love. And yet, in spite of the twirly dancing romanticism, {even Taylor’s dress for this song during Eras fits perfectly}, the song is melancholy.
The version on Long Pond Studio Sessions is beautiful. Go watch & come back . . .
He was hers to lose. He was never hers. She lived for the “hope of it all” waiting for him, hoping that the blissful summer months would turn into a forever. This. Thisssss. This is why I started writing a novel that would later be called A Thousand Years. It was the hope of it all.
This song changed my life. I’m not even kidding right meow. It changed my life because it added fuel to the fire that became a novel – written in about 90 days. In this case, this love would not last. It would be a summer memory. In spite of that, I still see this song through the lens of hope.
I am a frequenter of “SwiftTok” and I’ve watched many videos and seen countless comments of fans being critical of those who focus on the lyrics, “to live for the hope of it all.” Those lyrics seem to be where many hang their hat. I think I’d include myself in that category. Those critical say things like, “But that song was about James cheating on Betty.” Why, they want to know, would you love a song or lyric with that as its context? This isn’t a happy ending.
Well, dear reader – that’s one way to look at it. Or, you could take what you feel about the song and, uh . . . feel what you feel. One thing you should know about writers of poetry, novels, songs, movies, etc. is that we may use some artistic license in everything that finds it way into people’s hands. We may not always give you the whole story. I once wrote a “villain” that is a Senator. Senator Cooper in Chasing Hope is based on a man that is not even close to being a Senator. He’s based on a real person that’s for darn sure. But his job in real life, where he met the protagonist, and what became of them, are worlds apart. Nonetheless, he’s a real man and one of my least favorite humans on all of the earth. In other words, what artists write into poetry, songs, or novels is true and not true. As such you gotta feel what you feel. Analyze what they (the artists) may have meant if you enjoy that. I certainly do. But in spite of how I may imagine august from the writer’s perspective, it will forever be my song too. It’s my song. That’s why artists release their songs, poems, novels, and art into the world. They’re sharing it with us and allowing us this experience of making it ours as we live it through our own lens.
I was inspired to write a novel in 90-days because I heard a song and fell in love with a man who would hurt my heart in a way I didn’t think I’d recover from. That novel is set on a ranch on the Central Coast of California – where I’ve never lived. Its plot follows a path that looks nothing like my path. Even still, the twirling salt air of a song called august, on an album called folklore, combined with some romance and hope, and eventually led to A Thousand Years. As it turns out, a secondary character in the novel is the real hero of the story. He isn’t the charm and wild that started this whole thing. But he’s the real hero of the story.
So . . . writers make stuff up. Taylor Alison Swift is capable of making stuff up – either about her inspiration or about what she writes about in the first place. The beauty of art is that we get to decide what we think about it or how it makes us feel. For me, I absolutely do not get hung up on what or how others interpret august and/or the supposed love triangle. This song is about me. It’s about the hope of meeting a man I didn’t see coming and never wanted to lose. It’s about wanting him and what I saw as a wild love – hopeful I’d met my match. It’s about losing what I never should have wanted and the hope of meeting the one who is meant for me.
Even in the murky waters of heartache, the beauty of the music and the flowing sea breeze lyrics, allows me to find a little hope. In new love there’s always a chance it will turn into a forever. And in those moments, you’re living for the hope of it all.
So what I’m saying is . . . get your august tattoo. You get to decide what the song means to you.
It’s a very music-y time in my life. I am spending hours and hours thinking about music and lyrics (and listening). This has brought to mind memories of how much time I dedicated to music in my childhood. Literal hours of my life were consumed by the music I loved. I was a typical latchkey kid in the 80s – entertaining myself in the hours between school and my mom coming home. Quite often, if I wasn’t outside with the kids in the neighborhood or playing Nintendo with my brother, I was singing my heart out at home.
Between my mom’s records, my kid/early teen music, and the radio – music was solace, peace, entertainment, and therapy all at once. It’s still that way. At the moment, it’s keeping my head in the creativity game in the moments when the writing slows.
I am contemplating a series analyzing some of my favorites as the release of The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift approaches (9 days!). Related/unrelated – I heard the cover of I Honestly Love You the other night while looking for something else. To be honest, as much as I loved Olivia Newton John growing up, I may prefer Tori Holub’s version over Olivia Newton John’s. I’ve also listened to some of Tori’s covers of The Carpenters. They were favorites of my mom’s (and therefore mine). I was convinced as a kid I could sing like Karen Carpenter. Ridiculous. “We’ve Only Just Begun” was my favorite to sing. I have my mom’s records and may need to pull those out this weekend. Running across these songs hit a sweet spot in this artist’s heart.
That spot in my heart is bringing up so many memories and helping me crystalize the plot of a novel I started working on a few years ago, but sits in my drafts folder. I may outline it this weekend.
Music is how I survived a childhood that didn’t make sense. And it’s part of who I am. Music, though I write fiction, informs the kind of writer I wish to be. I may pop in over the next 9 days to share more about music, lyrics, and writing – as there’s a chance I may have a new favorite album (of all the times) by the 19th of April.
Here’s ONJ’s version of the song, by the way…
“But this feeling doesn’t come along every day And I shouldn’t blow my chance When you’ve got the chance to say I love you I love you I honestly love you” Songwriters: Jeff Barry / Peter W. Allen
“Honey, honey You could be my bodyguard (Huh, uh) Oh, honey, honey Will you let me ride shotgun? Shotgun Oh, oh, oh
Oh (Ah) Oh Oh (Ah) Oh I could be your bodyguard Please let me be your Kevlar (Huh) Baby, let me be your lifeguard Would you let me ride a shotgun? Shotgun” Written by: Beyoncé, Elizabeth Lowell Boland, Leven Kali, Raphael Saadiq, Ryan Beatty, & Ajanae Nichols
Working on my top 5 favorites from Cowboy Carter. It’s hard to decide what goes in those spots. II MOST WANTED is definitely numero uno for me. Beyoncé’s & Miley Cyrus’s voices together on this are incredible. But the rest are up in the air – though I think BODYGUARD may be #2.
April is my birthday month and the 26th is two years from my 50th birthday. I’ve got a list (in process) of things I’d like to do by then. It’s a 50 before 50. I’ve crossed a few things off but I’ve got some more to add, too.
This Anne Lamott quote is the general theme…
“Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written, or you didn’t go swimming in those warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.” ― Anne Lamott
The truth is, I feel the full weight of all I haven’t done by now. I’ve got so much ahead of me though. I’m determined to look back on these years with fond memories of the silliness, the big, juicy creative life I lived, & of the adventures I refused to turn down.
Being around you is a simple joy. There are so many things that make life look beautiful and often, there’s nothing extraordinary in the moments I cherish the most. You’re like the first whiff of dark roast coffee in the morning – or a perfect floral or tobacco note on my favorite Pinot Noir. Or maybe the first scent of rain falling. It’s like a hike on a perfect spring day – when the sun is warm, and the breeze is cool. It’s wandering through a farmer’s market on a summer Saturday morning, or it’s like fresh vibrant flowers throughout the house.
Being close to you is like those perfect hints of joy – those little things that are like bright sparks of happiness. It’s in the way you smile at me, or the way you hold my gaze. It’s in the memory of long talks and in the way I feel existing in the same space as you. It’s the little things that draw me to you, like when I slip on my coat and turn to see you watching me. In this normal moment, everything else melts away. I long for the intimacy that exists between us, electric in the air, to be deeper still.
But this space between us won’t do. Take my heart. Or leave me be. There is no in-between.
A little crazy at work at the moment. Taking a quick break from writing online. I’ll just leave you with this for now.
“Half asleep Taking your time In the tangerine, neon light This is luxury You’re not saying you’re in love with me But you’re going to Half awake Taking your chance It’s a big mistake I said it might blow up in your pretty face I’m not saying do it anyway But you’re going to
And if they call me a slut You know it might be worth it for once And if I’m gonna be drunk Might as well be drunk in love” – Jack Antonoff, Patrik Berger, Taylor Alison Swift
A random smattering of thoughts & inspiration: 1. It was a busy week. I didn’t sleep nearly enough. By Friday, I was feeling sick and rundown. I had a plan for how this weekend would go and that went out the window as the lack of sleep and longer days caught up to me. I was feeling a bit discouraged about that. But I had a few reminders pop up to help me reorient my thinking. First, I had weeks like this last week, more often than not (on my old job), for more than a decade. This is a rare occurrence right now. Second, I’m working super hard at getting back into a routine that has fallen apart over the last year. My sleep routine, my weight, how/what I eat – all of it. I could choose to think negatively about what didn’t happen this weekend, or I could remind myself of how far I’ve come and how hard I’m working on the rest. I needed the rest. My body needed me to slow down. So I did. That’s a win. Sometimes we need to readjust our thinking
2. I’m a big podcast fan. Mel Robbins’ podcast is one of my favorites. While I don’t catch every episode, I listen to as many I can. This episode was absolutely huge for me. I hate to use a word like this – but it was transformative. I will be buying Jamie’s book as soon as I can. You can find Mel’s podcast on Spotify, here.
3. The Taste of Things – I love movies. I am far less critical of movies than I am of books so I truly enjoy all the aspects of them. But there just aren’t a lot out there that I get super excited about anymore (new movies that is). But I absolutely, 100% want to see The Taste of Things. It looks like such a beautiful movie. The quote that got me, “Happiness is continuing to desire what we already have. But you, have I ever had you?” Phew.
It’s a weird time. I’m busy. I have lots to say (aka write) and I’m scribbling it down when I can. I shared a short story yesterday. Not my best work. But I kind of felt the urge to write it after complaining about One Day. This short story is the alternate to One Day. It’s here: https://open.substack.com/pub/elainamavalos/p/im-here-if-you-need-anything?r=be6jg&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web. I would sure appreciate your support in liking, restacking, etc.
Related & unrelated – Come Back, Be Here by Taylor A. Swift. It’s a favorite. This week it has been on repeat. Come back…be here. Yes, that sums it up.
It’s giveaway time! I’m giving away: * A book tote (perfect size for library books) * A Starbucks gift card * A copy of my book, Chasing Hope * Two super cute magnetic bookmarks
To enter, subscribe to my newsletter & the home of my online fiction, here: https://elainamavalos.substack.com/. To get an additional entry, share THIS post in Instagram Stories & tag @elaina_avalos on Instagram.
Giveaway ends March 2nd at 11:59 PM EST. Winner will be notified via social media on March 3rd. I will reach out to the winner for an address & will mail out the prize immediately.
I’ve created a new home to share my writing. While the emphasis will be fiction, I will likely have other things to share too. You can find the newsletter and writing over at Writing in the Margins, on Substack. Subscribe, here.
Bloom is my word for 2024. There was a split instant recently that I questioned if I “heard” that word right. But it is the right word. I am so excited to see what 2024 holds for me, as I bloom and grow into my purpose.
How and what I write on the Internet will change soon, as a result. I am making some changes and will be utilizing a different service to house my regular writing and content. I will revert to using this space as a traditional website that will eventually have several of my books available for purchase.
I may post here a time or two before I make the full transition. But I’ll be moving over to the other platform in the coming weeks and that will be my focus. My goal there is to provide some fiction in serial format (on the other platform), along with some essays or other content. It will be a subscription-based format. Most of this (99%) will be free.
As I shift my focus to my writing and invest more time in my writing “career,” I hope some of you will consider joining me there.
North Topsail Island, NC – Photo by: Elaina Avalos
Hidden in folders on my laptop and on flash drives – are novels and short stories that are waiting in the wings. On Pinterest boards, Spotify playlists, and random saved posts on blogs and such – are the proverbial slips of paper that contain the inspiration for novels, short stories, and maybe even poetry (instead of the easy free verse shit I allow myself, when I try to convince myself that I’m writing).
Inspiration comes when it comes. Sometimes it finds you in your favorite record. Or in the live version of a song you’ve sung most of your life – but you didn’t hear the live version, until adulthood (Silver Springs). Sometimes it comes to you in the form of a person that is walking sunshine. A few years ago, I was feeling the weight of the world. I drove out to North Topsail Island, one of my favorite of North Carolina’s barrier islands, and walked along the beach at sunset. North Carolina sunsets are a sight to behold. The Atlantic (and the color of the sand) shifted colors like the sky – turning from grey to pinks and purples and then finally settling back down to its choppy grey again. Something in my heart ignited and I wrote (in my head) the opening of a novel (below) that had been sitting on my chest for weeks and weeks. I’ve written several chapters of that novel. It could be the best thing I’ve ever written. Except it’s still in draft folders, calling for me.
I’m practicing getting better at not doing this. Not writing that is. But I’m practicing. I’m taking the slow and steady route right now. I’m writing something every day and not leaving the words to sit around in these folders and on flash drives. But it’s often not much. Every day, without expectations – I’m getting back into the practice of writing. Like anything, writing requires practice. It is not as easy as it seems or as easy as many feel it is. If you aren’t writing (like I was), you get a little rusty. If you’re thinking about kickstarting or restarting your writing life, I just wanted to send a little reminder not to be too hard on yourself. It’s rough getting started again.
I’m getting back into this, one word & one sentence, at a time. Eventually, I hope most (or all) of these books (like the quote above) and poems will be written. But I’m giving myself some grace to start with one word at a time.
I promise, the thing on the wall really isn’t crooked. 😂
“Write clear and hard about what hurts.” – Hemingway
The writing has been non-existent. I figured out what the distraction was. I dropped it like a ton of bricks. I feel so much better now that I’ve dropped a pack I was never meant to carry. It was my first weekend back to writing and it feels good. When words flow that you never saw coming, you know you’re back.
When I started thinking and praying about my word for the year, I knew it had something to do with renewal, regeneration, or reawakening. But as I mulled over these words, they didn’t quite fit. On a recent night, when I couldn’t sleep, I decided to get up and search Pinterest for reawaken. I came upon some images with the word bloom, instead.
I knew instantly that was the word. It captured everything I was feeling, hoping, and praying for this year. And so my word for 2024 is . . . bloom. As usual, I don’t have a long list of public resolutions or goals to share. But I can say that as this year kicks off, I am certain I will see a new season take shape in my life. I cannot wait.
Here are some of the images I found that inspired me . . .
Do you have a word for the year? What’s your word?
In April 2023, I took a trip to Big Sur, California. It was a magical, dreamcometrue, kind of trip. I’ve delayed sharing a post about it because it has felt a little overwhelming. The trip came at a time that I desperately needed it – after losing my brother and then my dad. But there’s more to the trip than that. It was a gift. Instead of writing about it here, I’m going to share photos (likely too many). I guess it feels too important to share (even after all these months) more about the trip itself. It was significant.
I stayed at Deetjen’s Big Sur Inn. This place is dreamy. I hope I can get back there again some day.
View from my windowThe guest book in The Honeymoon RoomCastro CreekCastro Cabin – Hope to stay there next time.Deetjen’s restaurant is so good.A delicious, but different caprese salad.One of the best meals I’ve had in ages.Carmel – near Carmel HighlandsBirthday Dinner at Nepenthe
Nepenthe was a great meal, too. They even gave me a birthday gift. I’m thankful for the trip. It was such a gift.
While I’m about to finish book 25 (The Secret Book of Flora Lee), here’s what I read in 2023. Of these 24 books, I’ve added a few to my all time favorite book list. I’ll start from least favorite to most favorite. Quick note on ratings – other than 1 or 2 stars (which are books that I did not enjoy at all), the rest of the ratings are all good books. A 3-star book is a good book, but is missing something – maybe it’s a bit more character development or a plot point is too rushed or dialogue is missing something. It could also be too long (which may be the problem with the book I’m reading now). I’m not even going to address the books I didn’t finish. Life is too short to read bad books. Honestly? There were a lot of those.
Virgin River - 🌟 The Unhoneymooners – 🌟🌟 Malibu Rising – 🌟🌟🌟 Ladies’ Night – 🌟🌟🌟 A Lowcountry Wedding – 🌟🌟🌟 The Bodyguard – 🌟🌟🌟 The Homewreckers – 🌟🌟🌟 Out of the Clear Blue Sky – 🌟🌟🌟 Someone Else’s Shoes – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 The Nightingale – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 the winemaker’s wife – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 The Celebrants – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 Me Before You – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 Eight Hundred Grapes – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 The Dead Romantics – 🌟🌟🌟🌟 Romantic Comedy – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 bird by bird – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 All the Light We Cannot See – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Daisy Jones & The Six – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Becoming Mrs. Lewis – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Lessons in Chemistry – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Remarkably Bright Creatures – 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
I’m about to finish The Secret Book of Flora Lee. It’s a good book in many ways. It’s teetering between 3 & 4 stars. The last book I read by this author, Becoming Mrs. Lewis, was absolutely 5 stars. Lessons in Chemistry, Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, & Remarkably Bright Creatures have become three of my new all time favorite books. I adored them. My goal for 2023 was 12 books – assuming it would be too busy to read more. I’m happy to have passed that goal.
But now for the 2024 goal . . . what are some of your favorites that you’d recommend? Have you set a reading goal for yourself for 2024? My goal is to meet this year’s goal and read at least 25 books.
It wouldn’t be the end of the year without talking or writing about my year in music and Spotify Wrapped 2023. There were no surprises this year. Actually, that’s not true. There was a surprise. I still don’t know if I believe it.
John Mayer? I feel like I was punked with this one. That’s not to say I don’t like some of John Mayer’s music. But #5? Last year the #5 spot went to Luke Combs. But I know for a fact, I listened to Eric Church more than both of them. So weird. Anywho…this list of top artists definitely sums up most of my favorites.
In the case of #1-4, these artists are and always will be some of my favorite musicians.
Taylor Swift (also #1 last year) – I write about her music enough this shouldn’t be a surprise around here. Taylor’s talent as a songwriter shouldn’t be disputed. But since her 1989 album, her writing is incredible. Since folklore, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s a genius. Like for real.
Fleetwood Mac – I could never give them up. Not ever. Like you’d have to pry them out of my cold, dead hands.
Ryan Adams – I love him – so much. Like Taylor, DRA is prolific as a writer. One of my favorite albums is Ashes & Fire (I adore it). Come Home is probably my favorite from that album. Live at Carnegie Hall is a close second as is Follow the Lights. My favorite song of Ryan’s will always be My Love For You is Real.
Ray Lamontagne – No explanation needed. I’d marry his voice.
All of my top songs of the year were Taylor’s. She’s usually in the top 2-3. But I usually have a mix. You can “blame” Midnights on repeat, for that. I’m still in my Swiftie era.
Yeah. I really did listen for 45,921 minutes.
My podcasts changed this year (a little). I expected to see all of these on the list. Next year, New Heights will surely make an appearance.
The Winemakers was probably #1 because I went back through and listened to quite a few older episodes, including weekly episodes. Being Well has been the podcast I’ve listened to the longest though, behind This American Life.
All in all, there are no surprises (except least favorite Tay boyfriend). I’m not sure how I’d make it through the day without music in my life. That’s a pretty good definition of hell.
Have you seen your Spotify Wrapped results? Any surprises for you? I feel like most of us know – but it’s always fun to see them just the same.
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