Apologies... it has been a while since I last forced you all to acknowledge my current obsessions. The most recent was called 'L Words'- or something to that effect. Ah but now, now you are subject to late April's whim... and we all know that April is the cruelest month. And while we are on Eliot, I may as well let you know that East Coker recently came back into play in my mind and won't seem to quit:
I said to my soul be still, and wait without hope
And repeat.
But back to it...
Let me begin with the music- just to get it out of the way. This song currently makes me dance like a little kid around my empty apartment. I know I'm late in the game- but seriously... I am always late in the game when it comes to the pop cultures. (Also... even though this is an obsessional confessional... I very nearly did not admit that one just because of the American Idol situation... eww.).
Kodaline is also new to me- but this song has been on the radio every time I have needed to hear it.
And, finally on the music front is Coldplay's Magic. It almost did not happen. It took a listen with open ears, eyes, and heart to get what was going on with this one. And when I finally did... I got it. I don't know, maybe it's the heart in this witch, but I want that magic. I want the magic of swaying and the magic of knowing.
Atlas.* Atlas Atlas Atlas. I f*cking love that word. I have long been obsessed with individual words. That, I do not believe, will come as a surprise to any single soul who follows this blog with any faith.
But sometimes I get hooked, really hooked and reeled in by a word. Atlas was, and is now again, one of those words. I adore every meaning of it- I could very well get drunk on this word. Much to my parents' and friends' (and potential future son's) chagrin, at one point I was so obsessed with it that I considered naming a boy just that. Atlas. What a name, what a burden, what a book. What a word(!)- all of my passion and pain concentrated into two syllables.
To change tack, I am also a little obsessed with the possibility of the impossible. I can't stop wondering how impossible exists. The sun revolved around the earth until it didn't... so why are we so impossibly used to resigning ourselves to the thought that the impossible cannot be? So maybe my obsession is more about pondering big universal loopholes- but it always comes back to impossible.
This is going to sound weird- but I'm going for it anyway. One of my major obsessions this month has been my clogs. I kid you not, I think it has to do with going through the unpacking process up here. In their own way, all of my danskos have a story- which, when strung together, become a timeline of sorts. The first pair I ever bought was a college graduation gift to myself. I have worn the hell out of them- the toe box in the left shoe is starting to wrinkle and corrupt and the tread is finally Finally starting to wear down. I am wearing them today, typing this. And they are like old friends. My toes know exactly where to curl in them when I walk, I know how the ball of my foot will feel pushing off into a jog in them. I know the origin of every scuff mark, I can recall each blister they ever gave me. I tripped on a sidewalk in Dublin in these shoes. I drove hundreds of miles in the same pair.
And that's just one pair. I have six or seven at this point.... eight if you count the boots my mom bought me as a 'break up' present a few years ago. Each with their own unique series of scars, scuffs, and memories. Oh shoes.
Okay, I think that is all for now. And Papa, if you call to tell me all of my grammar mistakes... it's on.
April Obsessions bring May Longings.
*Okay. I really did just search my own blog just to make sure I had not, in fact, ranted about this one previously.
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