A couple of co-workers of mine spent all day today at the library annex, instead of coming back to the headquarters building in the afternoon. They were getting a lot accomplished, so figured they’d keep on the rest of the day. I was thinking about this on the way to Wal-Mart this evening, and I was – I guess “envious” is close to what I was feeling, though the thoughts spun into anger – mainly directed at myself, as usual. I was asking myself, “Why the hell can’t I get anything done? Why am I never that productive? What the fuck is wrong with me anyway?”
I was able to push the mood aside – must be a good thing that Wal-Mart is less than ten minutes from our house, not much time to get riled up about stuff – and the actual shopping trip was all right, just LONG because I had to return something and stood in line at Customer Service for close to 15 minutes. I thought about getting an iced coffee from the McDonald’s inside the store, before the endless wait at Customer Service, but was able to resist the temptation.
On the way home, I was listening to Tori Amos’s Little Earthquakes CD, and the next song cued up was “Winter.” I turned out of the parking lot onto 37th St., and had tears in my eyes before I got to the 37th and Burlingame intersection. The start of the song is about a little girl outside on a cold winter day with her dad: “I put my hand in my father’s glove,” she says. And the chorus just moved my heart, and I imagined my dad…not really saying the words, but that the words must certainly express what he felt for me:
When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?
And then the last verse:
Hair is gray and the fires are burning,
So many dreams on the shelf.
You say, “I wanted you to be proud of me.”
I always wanted that myself.
My dad was proud of me, and did love me, as well as he could – and in his way, far better than I’ve ever loved myself. And heaven help me, I miss him so much tonight, more than in a long time.
Marie, I can really relate to that feeling of “not being as productive as everyone else” and not quite measuring up to what you hoped of yourself. Even though that feeling can be such a miserable one, I’m glad you realized that your father would have been proud of you! It would be great if you could just believe in yourself, but sometimes knowing that other people are proud of you also makes a big difference! 🙂
“Winter” is a wonderful song. I’m glad it inspired you. I think Tori Amos was spot on with many of her lyrics on Little Earthquakes. As depressing as the album is, it still got me through some of my toughest times, mostly in high school. The music often went hand in hand with Sylvia Plath’s poetry because that was what I was deep in back in the day. Looking back, that is a very dark place to be, but I was glad that I wasn’t alone in it, at least in music and literature… The songs still get me through tough times – like now. Your blog even inspired me to listen to the album again late last night.
Thanks for your comments, Marie. You know, I seem to recall a story about a man at the record label (was it Atlantic, maybe?) listening to Tori’s demo and not wanting to sign her, but he just fell in love with “Winter.” Thank God for all the Toriphiles that he did!!
I think it’s neat that you listened to Earthquakes after reading my blog – thank you! I don’t listen to NEARLY as much Tori as I used to – and I actually DIDN’T buy her last album – but listening to Earthquakes a few times the past couple weeks, I still LOVE it, and think it’s solid, cohesive, all 12 tracks really strong and well-done. It’s truly wonderful when people CAN turn pain into art, that in turn enriches others’ lives.