I Can't Even

Flashback Friday

Digging through my tub of old writing, I came across something that should thoroughly embarrass me, but somehow doesn't—hand-written lyrics of Dire Straits' Romeo & Juliet. How this happened, me sitting down to write out the lyrics, can be explained by two things.

1.) This song is in the film Empire Records, which is one of my all-time favorite movies. (I've seen it at least 200 times, and that's probably a conservative number). My best friends in high school and I made mix tapes combining music and clips from the film, and would listen to it as we drove around town killing time. That's right—we were unapologetically cool as hell.

2.) My ex-stepmother had the compact disc by Dire Straits that happened to contain this particular song, thus giving me access to the multiple listenings that such an endeavor as lyric documentation would require. I was a very patient girl. I took my time. And now I have actual, physical proof that I am officially a dork. Win for Bredeson.

I laid out the bulk of this blog post late last night, and spent the gaps between my thoughts today attempting to come up with some kind of grand justification as to why I felt the need to hand-write lyrics to this particular song. And that's when it hit me—there's no need for a justification. I've always lived by an unwritten (and for the longest time, unrealized) rule when it comes to art: act on every creative impulse. This was just another way to express not only myself, but an emotional connection I'd had with a particular piece of art. When I look at it that way, it's so much more than just not embarrassing—it's beautiful.

This was but one link in a chain of creativity that has led to the person I am today. I find the rise of popularity in hand-made craft items amusing, since I grew up doing that stuff. And in those days, no one "liked" or thought to pay money for crocheted furniture covers designed specifically to accompany the Barbie chairs I'd built out of my brother's Constructs.

I am a very prolific writer only because I act on pretty much all of the ideas that pop into my head. I sit down, and I put the necessary work into making books happen. I did the same thing as a kid, with writing, and with any other creative thing I could think of. I got used to acting on my impulses, even if it meant I'd be judged for it. Some might call it a thick skin. I like to think of it more as being comfortable enough with myself to admit that I'm going to make mistakes, and that's okay.

Michelle BredesonComment