of music, and more

Two posts in one night. Check your seat belts kids, looks like crazy times are a-brewing.

I never saw myself as much of a Moby-loving kinda girl, but I realised that more than a couple of his songs fit my mood just right. Tonight, this one is working it’s magic.

It’s funny how music works. Magical, really. The way it can lift you up so high, or bring you back down to earth so quick. Make you cry, or curb the tears. Wake you up, lull you to bed, keep you company while you’re cruising, or when you’re dancing..

A long time ago, my sister told me that a man who can dance makes her weak in the knees. Really dance, she meant, the kind of dance that is so in sync with your own rhythm, so that every move is as natural as the last, as normal as the next, and you don’t think you’ll ever stop. Back then I’d never let loose, never let myself completely go, and dancing was just something grudgingly done, be it at parties with friends, or on stage with my mother’s eyes watching on, filled with pride and knowledge.

And then the nights out started. The drinking, the lights, and the music… oh, the music. It doesn’t happen very often, hasn’t happened in almost 4 months, and lord knows how long the last time before that was.. but sometimes, everything in the night works out just so right, and the alcohol works it’s charm, and my heart tells my brain it’s okay to let go for a couple of hours, to just be free, to just be me.. because in that crowd, no one’s going to notice. And times like that, I couldn’t agree more with my sister. Dancing barefoot with my eyes closed and my hair everywhere is a beautiful feeling, and having someone who shares that feeling, that’s enough to make anyone go weak in the knees.

But like I said, it doesn’t happen very often. So I don’t look forward to a man who can dance. I look for a man who can sit with me in the car, head laid back against interlaced fingers, staring at the stars, or what little you can see of them from here, while the music courses through our veins. Someone who doesn’t distinguish between good and bad, between different genres, but just what you get, and what you don’t. What finds a nerve, and what goes in one ear, out the other.

I think, even more than the sex, it’s the sneaking out of the house for a quick smoke and kiss goodnight,  the late night aimless drives, the beers, the fries, the teasing and laughing and screaming and crying that I miss, always accompanied by the music, the wind in my hair, and the whispered lyrics. Never word perfect, but never missing a beat.

I have secrets aplenty, and I kind of like my life being this way.  I’ve learnt about peace and trust and acceptance, and so much more. I don’t always practice them, but nights like these I remember, and remind myself to try to do better, starting tomorrow.

Results are out tomorrow at noon. Learning to let go, learning to release, learning to be free. Growing up sucks a lot of the time, but it’s one hell of an adventure. My self as a kid would be proud. I always did want to be George, from the Famous Five.