Lies in the Meadows

Butch Walker released his new CD yesterday. It's been a little over 24 hours and I've already completely digested the album front to back - I have my favorite song, the song I like the least (but can't come close to hating,) and the song that conjures the most vivid memories and fantasies all within approximately four minutes.  It goes without saying that I think the man is a genius, but most importantly - he's all heart.  What I love most about Butch - what I connect with most in his music - is the fact he's an "all or nothing" type of person.  His approach to emotions is either immersion or disconnect - and sometimes a precarious combination of both.

He reminds me of myself.

Maybe it's a gigantic character flaw of mine - but I have a reputation of refusing to stand and face a situation if I feel it could potentially break me.  I won't sit and watch my emotions crumble to the ground - I won't stand back while my focus fades - and if gray begins to shade, I'm out of there.

It's not a complex thing - it's a defense mechanism, a survival tactic.  There have been times in my life where I have stuck around, held out hope, believed the hollow words people spit just to smooth things over - and every time I've come out empty-handed.  I'm only 25 and I can say with the utmost certainty that I've lost enough years already - I always like to refer to those years as "poor ontological investments" - but even the philosophy of it all isn't completely consoling. 

I don't know if it's just bad luck, or if karma really exists - but I consistently find myself in situations that, for lack of better words, simply go nowhere.  For a person as horrendously picky as I am, it's remarkable that I overlook obvious hurdles and go sprinting off with the finish-line in mind.  Of course you follow the metaphor to finding me curled up on the ground, face busted - silently screaming as the blood and tears create a caramelized cocktail of regret.

Dramatic?  Sure.  But it's a goddamned powerful recurring theme in my love life.  And yeah, every time something like this happens I retain a little bit of luck on one front - the fact that I have a contentment in my person to fall back on.  I'm very good at self-sufficiency - I can get along alone and find a genuine happiness in that.  I have immense career goals and a lot of passion.  I'm free to go where I please, do what I want - I don't have anyone to answer to, and  nobody that I'm responsible for.  My life is particularly ideal in many ways and at the end of the day, it's comforting to know how many possibilities are out there.  But these facts are the fallback - they're not the front-line.

Our emotions get us in trouble - they cause us to bend, to give, to compromise.  Sometimes that compromise means subduing aspects of our character that are painful to hold down.  When that happens, we are in essence living for another instead of living for ourselves.  The only time this is acceptable is when you're getting something equally satisfying in return.  You want me to dig a hole, that's fine - but you better be right there shoveling silver dollars and sugar-free peanut butter cups right back into it.  And, honestly, one or two lovely rhetorical flourishes do not translate into creamy sans-sucrose peanut buttery goodness.  The proof is in your actions - whether or not the effort exists and is genuine.

I'm in a position right now where what I want so desperately to believe is trumping what I fear might be the truth - and that's dangerous.   I'm not rooting myself in reality because at some point I figured, well, if we cracked the window surely we can open the door.  But, the walls are slowly bleeding black and white together, closing in just enough to cause concern.  I'm questioning everything - analyzing everything - weighing pros and cons - measuring prospective losses.  There's nothing right now that doesn't scream "Congratulations on drawing the short straw - better luck next time."

Until I feel like I'm not the only one with all my cards down on the table, my size 8 1/2 Nike is on the starting block.

(Yes, I mixed metaphors - intentionally, might I add)