Random Radical Ramblings

One of the reasons I like having Anne as my friend is because she is always bringing up the artistic side of life. She writes poetry and sings and loves music and books just as much, if not more than, I do. So it's no surprise that I got a CD, a book, and a giant Smart Heart Bear for Christmas. (Only, mine is awesome and giant and plush and doesn't play stupid guessing games. Also, I know Smart Heart Bear isn't a "real" Care Bear, but he has a British accent and teaches that school is cool. I AM that bear, ok?)

So in Anne's continued quest to share her awesomeness, she bequeathed the Over the Rhine CD, Good Dog Bad Dog, to me around Christmas time. She did not give this to me because of the obviously and eerily appropriate title that could serve as some of meta statement for my relationship with my little Parsnip, but because she already owned that CD and my stupid ex-boyfriend likes to give her gifts that she already owns. (Yes, you read that sentence right. It's a loooong story.) For once in my life, I'm really grateful that my stupid ex-boyfriend doesn't know Anne very well because this CD is awesome! I hate to love it because it has stupid ex-boyfriend cooties, but it's just so good. It makes me think of a million different things all at once and gives me a glimpse of a passion that I have long since lost.

Anyway, I can't really pick a favorite song but I do like "The Seahorse" quite a bit because of these lines.

You can always tell me
anything at all.
Think of all the times
you've let my lips move, yeah, yeah, yeah.

I always like to personalize songs when I listen to them, but this song can't be pinned down because I could recite those lines to 30 different people and they make sense. I'm just so lucky to have a plethora of people who are willing to sit on the phone or in front of the computer and listen to me. And I'm glad that those people are still in my life. Most of them don't qualify as "near" anymore, but they're there. I can pick up the phone. I can send an e-mail. I could even write a card. And they'd be there. Ready, willing, and able to help pick my shit up and move me along. And I couldn't ask for more.