Music Lyrics - Sea Legs by The Shins

You can listen to this song on my "My Music" page. Here are the lyrics from songmeanings.com, with a few edits recommended in their forum comments:

Of all the churning random hearts
Under the sun
Eventually fading into night,
These two are opening now
As we lie, I touch you
Under fuller light.

Girl, if you're a seascape
I'm a listing boat, for the thing carries every hope.
I invest in a single lie.
The choice is yours to be loved
Come away from an emptier boat.

'Cause when the dead moon
Rises again
We've no time to start a protocol
To hem us in.
And when the dog slides
Underneath a train,
There's no cry, no use to searching for
the mutt's remains.

Throw all consequence aside
The chill aspire, people set alight.

Of all the intersecting lines in the sand
I routed a labyrinth to your lap.
I never used a map sliding off the land
On an incidental tide,
And along the way you know, they try
They try.

And we got sea legs
And we're off tonight
Can I've that to which they've no right?
You belong to a simpler time
I'm a victim to the impact of these words,
And this rhyme.

'Cause when that dead moon
Rises again
We've no time to start a protocol
To have us in.
And when the dog slides,
Open the door, and where'd she go?
There's no time, no use to searching for
The mutts remains.

Throw consequence aside
And the chill aspire, people set alight.

Leave it to me to choose the weirdest song lyrics I've ever heard to interpret for my first blog post. But this is one of my most favorite songs in the world, so I am welcoming the challenge. It appears that a lot of people see this album as a whole story, which is interesting. I love albums like that, but never listened to this one (Wincing the Night Away) in that context.

On its own, though, this song sounds to me like a guy is trying to get this girl to leave her current dude for him. I think her current dude is possibly abusive, or the narrating guy is at least is trying to convince her that his love is better. He wants her to run away with him.

James Mercer (lead singer) is speaking of "churning random hearts under the sun, eventually fading into night," referring to people who are unhappy with their current lovers and looking for other options, but still going home to them at night.

This comes up again in the chorus. The "dead moon" is the woman's current dude. When she goes back to him, they part further from making or executing a plan for them to run away together. Then, "when the dog slides underneath the train..." is describing how, when her guy comes after them looking for her, she will not have to deal with seeing his pain. They will be gone, and he will be history. This is even clearer in the second chorus, when it says, "open the door and where'd she go?"

"Throw all consequence aside, the chill aspire, people set alight" = people do this all the time. People do harsh things and move on. It's life.

In the next verse, "Of all the intersecting lines in the sand..." he says only his heart is what led him to her. Not by following some silly cookie-cutter thing like everyone else does. Even though that is what everyone always wanted him to do. Maybe, in real-life terms, he is referring to, perhaps people trying to set him up on dates or join some internet dating thing. He found her by faith or fate, not coincidence. He knew what he was looking for and he found her.

"We've got sea legs," the name of the entire song. A term of encouragement. Mercer is telling her they are strong together, they will make it. They will get through the rough part and it will be smooth sailing. "You belong to a simpler time." He sees her as pure in spirit. And in this verse, he is appalled at the ways that she is treated in her world and wants to take her away from it. He knows it is a crazy idea, though. Her dude might follow them and come after her, but Mercer, or the narrator, would give his life for her. "I'm a victim to the impact of these words."

In the beginning of the song, the ninth line is, "I invest in a single lie." That lie is their sea legs. He knows he needs to take her away and he needs to believe they can make it through in order to save her. In reality though, he is not so sure. But he doesn't let her know that.

Goodbye 20's

This is the last 2 hours of being in my 20's and I do not think I will miss it one single bit. My 20's seemed like just a super extended adolescence, only filled mostly with me fooling myself that I had it all together. So maybe I did "get it together" or whatever, but I never had it together as much as I thought I did. There was always some rock unturned, some corner unswept, or some big giant haze following over my head, all pretty in pink, protecting me from what I love to call REAL reality. Now that I am turning 30, I am truly ready to face the dark clouds that have always been there, violently blowing the dirt and scum around in the attic of my mind, burying it into the corners and leaving the filth hidden beneath the trinkets that always just sit there for no reason. It's time to dive in.

I'll never forget the winds outside on this day. I'll never forget having all my bottom molars pulled out this very weekend. And I will never forget that I organized one of the hugest events my work has ever had on my 30th birthday. How does everything always make such perfect sense? It BAFFLES ME!!

It truly is the inability to forgive that holds me back, like a net tossed over me and staked into the ground. I can see the skies above me and reach for them, try my greatest and try harder, plan to make it happen and defeat all odds, break past this mysterious barrier by simply willing myself through it. But it never happens. I always feel doomed to this cold low dirty ground. My only choice is the river. The net condemns me to it, tells me the bright high skies are not for me. I am a ground wallower. It tells me to remember how I got here, remember why I remain here. This ground and this river is where I belong.

Not anymore, mother fucker. I'm gonna cut you....

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness. Here we go.

Isn't there an answer? Right there in front of my nose? Didn't I always say there was? I am blindfolded, flailing my arms in front of me for it. It's there. I know it is. I probably am already grabbing onto it, I just don't know. It seems like I have thrown too many options into the pot. I already had it but I just want to keep denying it. And I still don't even know it.

Vague, huh? I know, right?

I feel like I should be able to grab onto something and it will shoot me directly into the sky.

There it is.

I don't want to go at the expense of rejection. More accurately, at the risk of rejection.

.....................................................................

The word "that" puts a detachment onto everything. I am not sure if I can ever know why or how the nervous system works through electrical impulses and chemical messages, I just know "that" it does. You can explain to me everything surrounding that phoenomenon, but I will never fully understand because some things just simply are.

I wonder about my fascination with sadness. I see a river of sadness and I want to dive into it. I want to get caught in its current. I want to feel it nearly drown me. It isn't a negative feeling for me. It is like I am riding a wave that wasn't intended for us. That is too scary and dangerous for us. It is no wonder no one wants to come with me. I don't know if I can ever explain the amazement it brings me, enough to convince someone to join me in the venture into the depths. Flowing through the beat and the swish of the current, brushing right over the riches of the river floor, absorbing it into my skin, down the avenues the earth has created for itself... its most simple and obvious pathway to balance. Only fishes were meant to be there, not me. But I see it anyway. It is a gift that I can bear the heaviness and bright white beauty. It is a silent one. It is a free one. There is no breathing there. There is no sleeping....

I can't even kid myself about it though. It is hard to let go of the nagging that draws me into that river. Something always wants to bring me to that dark underworld, the scary forbidden place, as though I need to keep it in the light. Is that so? As though it holds answers I still need to find in it, for me and for the rest of the world to know.

I know the only way to go there is alone.

Blog identity crisis

I can't continue to be ashamed that all I ever write about is myself. I write what I write. And I also can't continue to be ashamed of the content of my thoughts. I am introspective. I am not afraid to go into the depths of my mind that most people don't even care to admit exist. I am not afraid to shed light on what I find or share it with others. I think everyone could use a little guidance in navigating through their thoughts and feelings.

SO! I am officially declaring the identity of this blog: Leading by introspective example.

30 day trial - Starting after lunch

I always whine that I can'f focus on anything and I am so easily distracted. But maybe its because I surround myself with distractions. It's kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy - give myself distractions and I can always make the excuse that I can't focus.

So starting after lunch today, I am going to try the following challenge: No phone, no e-mail, no facebook during work or homework.

Most people would probably think, well yeah, DUH! No wonder you can't concentrate if you're playing with all that stuff when you're supposed to be working. Right? I know. I don't know why I think I am some exception to the rule. For some reason, I kept telling myself that I need these distractions in order to be productive. It wasn't until recently that I caught myself and said, seriously, what the HELL kind of logic is THAT?!

It is going to be REALLY hard at first. Again, it is about my personal value to others. If I am feeling a sense that I am not valuable to others, then I need to have these distractions around to fish for a way to be of value somewhere. I feel paralyzed without a sense of value. I am going to have to learn that my current focus is on the baby steps to REAL value. Not just artificial value that I feel when I find someone to give advice to or have a good conversation with.

I am never going to satisfy my need to feel valuable externally. I need to be of value to myself, by focusing on working on the building blocks for my future.

Wish me luck! But only during lunch break or when my homework is done. ;)

365 day blog challenge?

Thanks, Kim Randall. I think your blog serves a different purpose than mine, but I still appreciate the gift of the idea of a 365 day blog challenge.

I have pretty much totally stopped journaling in my paper journal. Not sure if its an avoidance or a boredom or that I prefer writing for an audience. However, after 15+ years of journaling and nearly 10 years of blogging, I still struggle to find my writing voice and purpose. This blog is still a mish mosh of weird thoughts, rants, and uh... well I don't know. But I want to know.

Anyone who knows me well knows the story of my so very lofty tornado journal experiment - the one that I wrote in and never read until it was complete. I did this in order to practice some form of dedication and self control (it was difficult for me to resist the urge to read what I had just written). It took me a year to complete and it did indeed teach me the lessons I hoped to learn from it. Very interesting. I think my favorite part was that it was a writing challenge.

I am a writer, god damn it. I have to quit denying it. It is the one and only thing I know for a fact about myself. I don't know in what way shape or form I am a writer though.

So, if I truly am going to blog for 365 days...... actually, I don't know if I can or should. I have to think about it. I sometimes have a tendency or temptation to write things that I shouldn't post publicly. ..... but maybe that is what kind of writer I am?

.... taking votes...

Spite

Spite seeps through me sometimes. I see it now and then at peculiar times, at people who don't deserve it, and for no actual reason. Usually something I made up in my own head. I get mad at people for doing something they never even did. My imagination just runs wild.

Luckily I usually catch it before it escapes my mouth or arms.

It's because I do not feel I am of any value to them. And I get angry at them for it. I see it more like, they are not recognizing how valuable I am to them. I get angry at them for that. IF I EVER GET ANGRY WITH YOU, ITS IS MOST LIKELY BECAUSE I AM AFRAID YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE MY VALUE!!

It isn't their fault though. Not in the least bit. The reality is, I am afraid to express my value. No wonder people don't recognize it. I am like a dollar bill claiming to be a hundred, but people still can only get a small coffee with me.

It's funny how natural habits fall back into place when you don't carefully watch over them. I recently found myself actually convincing people that I was not worth their time, when they were trying to convince me that I was. I guess self-worth is kind of like a sand castle. You can build it, and then you're done and its awesome. But over time, waves crash over it, wind carries the sand away, layer by layer, until it is just a high lump in the ground. It continuously needs to be restored. It's hard work and you can't rely on other people to come tell you that your sand castle is (or was) awesome to keep it up. That won't happen. And getting mad at them for not noticing your lump of a sand castle doesn't get you anywhere either.

Time to face the facts.

Beacause the facts REALLY need to be faced. The fact of the matter is:

I DO NOT CARE TO CREATE FICTION.

I think that maybe I have not really been suffering from writer's block for 10 years. Maybe I just don't write fiction because, the fact is, I DON'T WRITE FICTION. I've always preferred factual stuff - movies that are true stories, real stories about real people. I love truth. I believe wholeheartedly in truth and reality. I love to help people see the truth and reality. And I so very easily and joyfully write about truth and reality. It is not a forced thing. I do not have to try. It is good and simple and natural and fun.

Writing fiction feels the same as trying to write a song. I have an idea in my head of what an awesome song or story would be, but I can't fathom one bit how to get it out into tangible, audible, or just visible stuff. I can't form it into something real. A lot of what blocks me is the thought, This is nothing new, and no matter what I create, it will never be something new. It is simply the truth.

Writing about reality though, is not new or old. It just simply is, and it always will just simply be. I am sure there are philosophical arguments to this. But that's my story and I'm stickin' to it! ;)

Some poetry

I found some poetry I wrote a long ass time ago. I will share some because some of them are pretty wild. I have no idea what this was about and I can't believe I wrote it. It is TOTALLY NOT my style. I think I wrote it in '97. A junior or senior in high school.

"The Covetousness Bigotry"

This courtly ray in lovely light,
it tumbled out of night.
With visions branded so clear
and neither decides to which he is near.

the ringing in his ears,
"So go!" says he, says he,
and spells his heart out to plea
"I shine as gold, and I am not worthy of me."
They spoke no sound, his words alone
as he was overthrown
"May God be sanctified in me."

So shall the allegory begin,
beneath our unconditioned skin
among the wise,
and so we fail to recognize
let it seethe into us well,
rust in blankly written burning spell
and may you trample over daisies
as we live and learn and die.

"Amongst my nectars, I was born to be the first.
So say I was cursed, you Thumbelina mime," says she.
"As long as starlight twinkles three,
Let my heaven carry me,
and thus I say...
such manly a galaxy shall sweep me away."
Woe,
lest not be conveyed,
and never yet dismayed.
To such a ponder, cold predestiny awakens
and sleeps, this guile taken,
and weeps, never to be born.

And about face,
we strove yonder The Hill
with every moment can she fill...

"Oh, flesh,
On what have I no dynamo to rest?"
The woman's wings cross her chest,

"For what I see, can I throw aside,
this chauvenist, my bride!
And alone, the reckless pain,
shall I rest her soul in vain?" he spake,
and lest, his earth did shake.
"But mercy me!
Not am I for a dream!
And this love bouts my heart to burst
as I lay sick and submersed;
a hungry child at best,
for she, and all the rest,
I soon for the self-loving hand of I,
shall surrender.
And for her vain prosperity Lord,
she hast thrown aboard,
I too, for she,
shall surrender..."

So uhhh....... does anyone know what the hell this poem is about?????!!!

Feel free to steal my idea.

I love finding jobs for people. I love to do it in my spare time. I love to ask everyone what they want to do in their lives and try to help them find the avenues to get there. I love helping them fix up a kick ass resume and cover letter, helping them find the best places to look for jobs, doing research about the best ways for applicants to apply, and the strongest things to say in interviews. I love researching all that and helping people with all that. I believe EVERYONE can do what they love in life, and there is a way for everyone. It is not always easy, and it is DEFINITELY not always fast. Even if you are the smartest and awesomest person in the world.

I would love to start an organization for people in need of job hunting assistance. This program would promote 3 things:

1. Discouraging dependence on government funding, both in business and at home (welfare).
2. Encouraging self sufficiency through utilization of one's personal skills and talents.
3. Providing education, coaching and assistance to job seekers free of charge.

The way this would work is, job seekers join the organization for free. The organization is run by 100% volunteers. Not one single person gets a salary. Any expenses the organization needs in order to run adequately is funded by the sales of products and services created/provided by the job seekers who join. So, say Andy was just laid off from his job where he worked for 20 years. He has one work related skill - boxing TV sets. He has no idea how to find a job or even attemp to try finding one. He needs help. He also needs some income in the meantime. So Andy joins the organization free of charge. But there is a catch - Andy must provide some product or service that can be sold through the organization. Andy has always enjoyed carving wooden knives. So he provides this. Whenever someone buys one of Andy's hand-carved wooden knives, the revenue is split 50/50 between Andy and the organization. That way he can make some extra cash, and pay his way for the service and assistance he is getting in finding a new job. There are several members. Lisa makes her famous homemade banana pecan muffins. Sally gives haircuts. Jake designs websites. This would encourage people to focus on their skills and strengths and stay positive. I think it would be cool. So if you are going to steal this idea from me, please just tell me where to go to volunteer.

Can't sleep anymore again.

Too many ideas I don't want to tell to go away. Way too exciting of stuff. I already think it all, all day long, but it never wants to stop. It never will until I act on it. Until I bring it into fruition. But it is just too much stuff. I always need one more thing. Something better than what I already have. Some new skill or tool. Money is not even the object anymore. Time is not the object. Energy is not the object. It is still just fear. Fear that I will complete it and present it and no one will want it. Fear of finding out that I really do need a 4-year degree before I can make it.

What is that thing? Why did she do it like that? Doesn't she know that is not how you are supposed to do it? Does she really think that looks good?

I have weird ass taste. I think things are awesome when most people think it's fucked up. I think things are beautiful that most people find ugly or sad or terrifying. I understand things that most people think is psychotic or totally off the wall. In this world where the puzzle of beauty seems to have scattered its pieces all over the place, I can see where they fit together. I know how the sand is connected to the stars, then to the oceans and the trees and the shadows and lungs and grasses and then the sand again. I know what it all means for me. I need to show it to you all. But its like trying to start a new language to teach everyone. Who would even want to learn? I always hope that deep down everyone already feels that language inside that they want to learn. But maybe not. Maybe I really do just have weird ass taste that no one cares to understand.

Gotta make it happen

When I get home, I have to find time to be creative. I absoluely have to devote time to it, and I must produce real stuff. No more of this producing a zillion half-complete projects shit. I have about 100 or so half-complete awesome ideas laying around, but half-complete, they are worth nothing. Not even sentimental value.

I have inner obstacles I need to face. I know why I can't find time. Actually, finding time is not my real problem. The real problem is completing things. I can't complete stuff because of my expectations, and the expectations that I assume others have of me. I have a plan of what to do with everything. I know exactly what I have to do, how to do it, how long it will take, how much it will cost and where the money will come from. I really love to say I am too busy. But I am really just too afraid.

"Don't be afraid, Jen, you can do it!" I know, I know. Thanks for the pep talk. That doesn't seem to get through my thick and stubborn skull.

In reality, at the very depths of my heart, I am afraid that I will find that being creative will not gain me any more love. I think, when it comes to love and acceptance, being liked and respected, I will never get enough. I wonder if that is how it is for everyone. That is what I ultimately want and what I have always longed for. For the longest time, I sought it out in the form of a romantic partner. Now I have found one that totally fulfills me with tons of love and respect, in a way I could ave never imagined. And I still feel I need more. I feel I will not be satisfied until every person in the world knows me and loves me and adores me. And I seem to think I can achieve that by weaving scarves? Writing novels? Drawing pictures? No matter what I do, I will always have those who love me and those who don't. In fact, the more there are that love me, the more there will ultimately be that don't. I have a hope and fear of fame.

Everything I do is frantically seeking love and acceptance. It makes me crazy. A year or so ago I decided to accept that I will never fully attain the amount of love that I seek. It is impossible.

What would I want to do with my life if no one ever noticed or cared?

weave draw and write still, just because I love doing them. I suppose.

Vacation Coming

Using this blog for my class last semester totally killed my desire to blog here. Oh well, here I am again. I have had tond of ideas to blog about, but just didn't feel like doing it.

In a week I will be on vacation for 10 days and I am taking my fantabulous little laptop with me everywhere I please. I cannot wait. I keep thinking, when I am in San Francisco, exploring on my own while Matt is expo-ing, I am gonna do this and that and think about this and try to find people to talk to about that, etc... Screw it all. I just want to do whatever I feel like doing at the moment. I do hope though, that I decide I feel like working on my book.

My book is so at the tip of my tongue right now!! Its current state is that of a downloading movie, almost finished, but has already started playing. Soon, it will be fully downloaded into my brain and thoroughly ready to present itself through my hand and onto a written surface for people's eyes to piece together the words and plant into the screens of their imaginations. It is going to be great. I know this because I did not even think of it. It came to me from the sky. Its like its asking me to write it. And this message of a story has chosen me because it represents my perception of myself. Therefore, I understand it best. It is kind of for that reason that I fear my story is unoriginal. It just feels too comfortable and normal to me.