Happy TunesDay: Collection 63

It’s been a while since I put out another TunesDay playlist. In the midst of trying to stay afloat during this semester, I definitely put my blog on the backburner.  But, I’ve been collecting songs to incorporate into new playlists for you all!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to push out a playlist on Soundcloud considering some of the songs I wanted to use weren’t available on the site, but I made this one on my Spotify account.  Hopefully y’all can access it alright!

This particular playlist (entitled: sad boi feels aesthetic because there really isn’t another way to characterize it) has been keeping me company on chilly Pittsburgh nights and during my morning walks to campus.

The 1975 definitely produce my go-to sad boi songs, but I’m really starting to dig LANY. Their tune, 4EVER!, has been on repeat. It’s slightly akin to Carly Rae Jepsen’s synthpop/80’s-vibe album, Emotion. All in all, I can’t complain. Even sad bois need some synthpop lovin’.

What are some of your go-to sad boi feels song choices?

Share them with me and I might add them in!

 

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entitled.

i have choked
on questions–
felt lumps in my throat,
gasped for air and clawed at words

on mattresses,
in living rooms,
on doorsteps,
in bathrooms.

questioned my own
power,
will,
worth.

was made to think
that another’s
desire
trumped
my dignity.

thought that “no means no”
and “yes”
was “yes”, full stop.

and so,
i did not know how to
explain away
my discomfort;

reassured myself
that it was
timing,
temporary,
an instance in a sea of
options.

tried to give excuses
for why men
always
take
without
asking.

there is something
so soul-crushing, heartbreaking, stomach-turning
about living in this body.

i wonder
why we continue
hoping or loving or forgiving
at all.

maybe there is something to be said
about the strength
of a womxn.

but even that strength
men feel
entitled to.

for once
can’t we have something
that is just
ours?

on tragedy and worldwide friendships.

I’ve been thinking about tragedy and how horrible things in the world impact us in very different ways. Some people tweet well-wishes, or rant about how our politicians have failed us, or retreat in the arms of the ones nearest to them. Or maybe all three.
Maybe there is no right way to grieve.
 
But, the reactions I tend to have are overwhelming. Sometime it’s so much that I feel absolutely nothing for a week or two. It’s defense. Biological, maybe.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve always been anxious. As a child, watching exorbitant amounts of Law and Order probably did not help. I’d worry about burglars and break-in’s, and kidnappings. I’d plan out ways to protect myself and my family if something were to happen–cut open my window screen with my pair of child-safe scissors, run to the neighbor’s house, and call 911 from there.
I had pretty solid escape plans.

But those plans would only work if things in the world were actually understandable, and if the world was the size of a nutshell. Often times, though, tragedy doesn’t make sense.  And you need bigger weapons than child-safe scissors to face a world the size of the actual world.

I used to think of tragedy in isolation.  What would the immediate impacts be on me and those closest to me? My world was four bedrooms and four bathrooms. And it soon expanded to a schoolyard, my grandparents’ homes, and the lives & realities of those I called family & friends.

Over time, my world kept expanding. And it made it increasingly harder to create escape plans to get us all out of emergency situations in tact.

Look, I consider myself extremely lucky to know the people I do and care so deeply about them.  To have friends in nearly every corner of the globe is a truly wonderful thing–a gift that keeps giving.

But, that gift of knowing and loving people in places I can’t control, in places I cannot be to provide a shoulder or a helping hand, has been something that’s given me a considerable amount of anxiety.
 
Because when a tragedy occurs, natural or otherwise, in the UK, in Palestine, in Cuba, in Afghanistan, in Southeast Asia, in other parts of the US, in literally every country & disputed territory across this unforgiving world, faces flash in my mind and the atheist in me is quieted. I whisper something like prayer and hope that there is safety for the people I’ve met and the ones that they love.

I don’t know what the answer is, or if there is even a question to answer in the first place.

But I know that this anxiety and overwhelming worry I have for the well-being of my friends across the world is only getting louder. And even though it would be nice in some moments to shut it off, to turn away, to stop caring and let friendships fade, it wouldn’t make life any easier.

As anxiety-inducing as it is to love people in a world and political system that tells us to think of ourselves only, I would not trade in a heart that has felt a full range of human emotions or a mind that remembers far too many stories of loss & pain, and even more of laughter & triumph in the face of loss.

I don’t know what good these words will do. And maybe they serve only to quell my fears. But, maybe that’s all they need to do.

Maybe I just need a reminder that friendships with people different from you, living in different realities, and dreaming different things, are more valuable than the worries that threaten their existence.

Happy TunesDay: Collection 62

Ya girl’s back.

For real.  At least for another week.

It’s been a legitimate mess trying to get my life organized again, but I finally had a bit of time to whip out a new TunesDay mix.

I have to say, this heat wave in the ‘burgh is making me miss California. At least it’s not humid there. I will be sitting and sweating alone in my room this whole week with only this cool playlist to keep my body temperature regulated.

xoxo.

living.

i am
alive
as
I will let
myself
feel.

i will not
let you
breathe your
way
into my lungs,

nor sweet nothing
your way
through my ears.

these hands
have held
more than
your fingers.

they’ve held together friendships
and families
and pieces of
ikea furniture
i was forced to
build
myself.

i will remember
these days
that blurred
into
dark.

won’t let myself
forget
that being alone
is not
the same
as feeling
alone.

will remember
that having life
is not the same
as living.

i hope that
you will
remember this
too.