a smallish man stands playing his guitar. balding, and wearing a suit jacket a size too small. bright green asics light up his feet. dirty jeans. graphic tee. singer/songwriter uniform?
his name is david bazan, and i feel quite thrilled to be within earshot of what he has to sing.
i can't wait to see mark. last time i saw him i thought i was in love. i hurt so badly to be in love. i forced something that never should have or could have happened.
a lot can happen in three years--my brain still wants to take the same paths-- but i am no longer willing to be someone else to gain the love of a man. there's nothing worse than being loved--but as someone very different from yourself.
i'm navigating new seas these days. don't cover up--don't shed the things that make up pieces of who i am. with every piece i lose, i become more willing to conform to an ideal.
i am not ideal. i am a creation, a painting right in the middle of being painted. sometimes i get frustrated and try to add or take away from what has been created by the brush already. vulnerability, being seen, in all my unfinished awkwardness--seems impossible.
how do you love without at least trying to hide some parts--how do you lose the pretense?
how do you love without abandon?
how can i ever feel comfortable, all the while knowing the capacity for pain?
what makes loving a man different from loving a friend? i easily love those who come and go from my life--but i think i expect a man to love me, and no one has yet, so it's humbling and scary wondering, "will you be my love?", and if not, what is wrong with me?
and then realizing it doesn't have to be something i am lacking. Lord, sweet, Lord, i so often doubt who you are to me. my head knows you not only want the best for me, you've planned the best for me. why is it that i think you don't know my heart? i guess i sometimes assume my desires are selfish--that scares me that maybe what i want is not good.
david is still singing. he just mentioned seeing a video of himself on youtube and feeling badly about himself. i love hearing about other's moments of insecurity. makes me feel marginally more normal, and a smidge less insecure.
concerts are a funny thing. a lot of times i secretly find them silly. unless i have some emotional attachment to the music, then i'm able to sit and let it sink down into the memories from every other time i've heard it, or times that it has played over an important moment in my life.
Jesus, i get confused about our purpose as your followers. who am i supposed to be in order not to give you a bad name?
what is it about singers and the act of singing that is so intimate? maybe because you can't help but be honest. it is the sound of the person you hide--fully seen. very romantic when done without the affectation of fear or influence of others.
i'm not sure why i have written through this entire opening act. i am full to the top--things to say--fears to speak out loud, and vanish into whatever place spoken insecurities go to die.
i live in seattle now. dreams are funny, and the realization of them even funnier. what do you do with the joy of achieving a desire? it seems to seep out at the most unexpected times. like today, with me having a crush on life.