the dreaming tree

we are the music-makers,
and we are the dreamers of dreams,
wandering by lone sea-breakers,
and sitting by desolate streams;
world-losers, and world-forsakers,
on whom the pale moon gleams:
yet we are the movers and shakers
of the world for ever, it seems.

-arthur o’shaughnessy

i never said it would be easy,
but i never thought it’d be so hard,
cause day after day
i’m still here wonderin why
things change and hearts break.

i never liked to take chances,
but i’d wish upon a star;
dancin’ moon’s shadow,
my dreams make me believe
in something more.

cmon baby, now, let’s dance
and wish upon a star:
we want dreams worth living,
and a love everlasting

so let’s go for a drive,
far away to another place,
where all i’ve ever wanted to say
is wide awake in your eyes.

and this is the line that is ringing in my ears:

27 years of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn’t keep

that’s from a ryan adams song, if you don’t know (“let it ride”). i’ve been waiting till i turned 27 so i could use it for another fun-filled blog post. pretty sad, i know, but if you know me at all, then you know that i am sad. i don’t want to write another depressive post about how i’m a failure and my life is worthless, but i’m struggling to come up with something more traditionally fitting to the occasion of my birth. maybe later. maybe never.

i finished a book the other night, which was very satisfying. the book was the time traveler’s wife, by audrey niffenegger, and it was an immensely beautiful and moving book. here is a brief summary:

It is an unconventional love story that centers on a man with a strange genetic disorder that causes him to unpredictably time-travel and his wife, an artist, who has to cope with his frequent absences and dangerous experiences.

some of my favorite books appear to be love stories. maybe i’m a lost romantic. i just bought another book that happens to be a love story. it’s called how to kill a rockstar, by tiffanie debartolo. the reason i bought it is kinda bizarre, so i’ll tell you that real quick.

i was on the way home from texas, where i was visiting family for christmas, and, as tends to happen when i drive, lots of thoughts work their way through my head, prodding and poking at my imagination. i was wondering how many of my so-called original thoughts were not original at all. i’m not really talking about thoughts that were disseminated from other sources, or that i can at least trace to a couple of places for the inspiration. i mean just random things that i came up with out of the blue. the reason i thought this was because i was trying to think of clever titles for, say, an album or something. one that i came up with was dreams for insomniacs. and then i had the aforementioned rumination on originality.

fast-forward to that night at the bookstore. the title how to kill a rockstar catches my attention, so i take it off the shelf to peruse. i glance at the author’s bio and read:

tiffanie debartolo is the author of god-shaped hole, a san francisco chronicle bestseller and book sense top 10 selection. she also wrote the feature film dream for an insomniac.

i mean, i almost dropped the book. and then i started laughing (i caught myself from becoming too loud). i pretty much immediately decided i had to buy the book. haven’t started reading it yet, but at least there’s an interesting story for you.

i came here to write about the time traveler’s wife, but i’m not sure i know what i want to say. it was a really well-done book, and i was captivated with the characters. i found myself able to relate to the main character, henry, in a profound way…i think. i’m actually not too sure how exactly i related to him, but there seemed to be a very real connection there, and one that i was not too keen of letting go of as the novel neared its conclusion. i’m certainly going to have to read it again in hopes of finding more clues about that strange association i had with henry.

a large part of it no doubt has to do with the struggle i’ve had lately to really latch on to notions of love and relationship. i’ve found myself in a constant, questioning struggle to really define what it means to be in a loving relationship. i think the real issue, actually, is that i’m not entirely sure i’ll ever be able to handle a relationship like marriage. i work in a place where i encounter brokenness in marriage everyday, mostly from people i’ve never met and never will meet. all i have are these brief nuggets, snapshots from marriage, the majority of which seem to have major troubles. i don’t know that i do well with major troubles.

i came close once to committing my entire life to one girl, and that crashed and was very painful. it still is very painful. i’m not sure how much healing has taken place, or how much healing will take place in coming years. i continue to try to move on, hope another girl will come to take her place, but so far, no one has. i think that would be ok, but more of a concern, i think, is the way my brain has handled opportunities to move on. sometimes i have a sense that my sub-conscious is quietly sabotaging relationships, perhaps trying to protect me from being hurt again. (i’m not sure how accurate a statement like that can be, referring to my sub-conscious. after all, if it’s sub-conscious, how would i know about it?)

i think i am on the verge of writing a lot more than i intended with this, so i’m going to stop spewing forth these sad thoughts.

but i can’t quit thinking them.