Sitting at the sidebar

I was commuting to work in my car everyday when this song was released in 1998, and whenever it was on the radio, I'd turn it up and sing. It was top ten mainstream, and because I'm a snob, I only enjoyed it in the privacy provided by sixty-five miles an hour and the windows rolled up.

There are other things I've been compelled to hide--emotions thought to be steps backwards that actually propelled me ahead, a romance that looked like idle fantasy but that sounded an alarm so loud I had no choice but to wake up--and today, a seemingly impossible connection to someone on the other end of the world, that is the closest to active love I've ever been.

It's easy to take notes of all that seems wrong--it's not easy to put down the pen and let "what is" reveal what's right.

I wasn't sure if this song was good or if it was bad, all I knew was that it made me feel, and so today I stop apologizing for my choices--in my career, in men, and in music.

Today I'm slowing down the car and rolling down the windows, and regardless of how the song is perceived, if it makes me feel, I'm turning it up--and I don't care anymore who hears.


Music player is to the right of this post .