"I'm aiming to be somebody this somebody trusts..."

Ok, so I'm repeating my earlier idea of blogging about a concert on the premise that her words were the driving force behind my desire to see Sara Bareilles in concert (again). The woman is an amazing writer. Really.

I started listening to Sara a few years ago when her first album Little Voice came out, and I've been rather obsessed ever since. During my first summer in the apartment, I'd turn on her album around 10 AM when I started working on lesson plans and just let it play in the background on repeat all day, sometimes late into the night as I stayed up facebooking and IMing. Some of the songs still conjure up very specific memories of that summer, certain conversations, certain places (including, but not limited to, a flight to WA state), certain people. I still love how she sings about finding her identity and finding love (or, let's be honest, maybe just chasing a little lust), dealing with hope and loss and confusion and pride, all with equal portions of sassy attitude and vulnerability that we'd usually rather keep hidden. And yes, I meant to say "we" and not "she" -- because that's how she writes her songs, in some magical way that makes me feel like I wrote the words when I'm belting them out at the top of my lungs in the car. I feel like her lyrics are strong, inspiring -- like "I'm aiming to be somebody this somebody trusts...there's only one thing worth trying to be, and it's love..." (from "Bottle It Up" -- check out the lyrics, it's chocked full of great lines). So it was awesome Tuesday night to hear her sing more of those songs that pulled me back two summers and reminded me, then and now, that somebody out there might feel something like I do (which, if you haven't noticed, is what I look most for in great writing).

So then last summer when I found out she was playing for free in St. Louis, I nearly fainted. Tina and Em and I arrived freakishly early and got the best seats possible, and I was completely entranced the entire time she was on stage. The whole concert was like a conversation; somehow I felt like we were all sharing something with her instead of simply listening to what she had to say.

When her second album Kaleidoscope Heart came out last fall, I stayed up late (on a school night) to buy it on iTunes and then listen to the whole album while reading along in the booklet. Obsessed, right? The songs were very different from the first album, and yet I felt like she finally put to words what I'd been feeling for weeks, months perhaps. It was like the stars aligned, and the fates said, "Having trouble finding the right words? Here you go -- hers might do the job, and she even put them to a nice little tune." I listened to her album day after day on my commute home -- even on the way to work every now and then, which is usually a treasured, silent 45 minutes of my day. At Tuesday's concert, I got goosebumps when she (we -- all of Kirkland, really) sang "Uncharted" and "Let the Rain." I loved hearing the background stories for songs, especially one that I only halfheartedly connected with before. She sang one song that I often skipped on the album, and I realized two things: first, that I started skipping it because it hit too close to home, and second, that it no longer did (yeah!).

Now, switch gears for a minute with me. I'm totally impressed with Ms. Sara because she writes her own songs, which isn't always the case in the music industry, and that makes it feel like the songs are that much more powerful. With that said, she also covered other people's songs -- including "Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons, which I love, again at least partially because of the lyrics. Realizing that this wonderful wordsmith likes a song that I like, well, that was just the icing on the cake. (Side note on this song -- she wasn't "allowed" to curse during the show, so she had some audience participation to determine what words she would use as substitutes in that song. Fun little activity, but it royally pissed me off that she was censored. That's a topic for another Words blog, though.)

I feel like this blog is particularly rambly and a bit cheesy (I feel a little like a little kid who met her idol, running back to her family saying, "Did you see her?! She was right there!"), but I'm just not sure how to convey how awesome it is to hear someone else say exactly what I've been thinking. I'm all about being unique individuals, but connecting with others like that is sometimes the only way I feel like this life has any focus. So check her out, listen to some of her music and see if she resonates with you, too. Or, if you know she doesn't already, spend the afternoon listening to someone who does, and tell me who it is. Maybe I'll find a new obsession.

"I made up my mind when I was a young girl, that I've been given this one world, and I won't worry it away..." from "Many the Miles"

Thinking outside the Book

I was kinda on a roll, reading and posting about a book each week or so, and then last weekend I was (far more social and) out and about so much that I didn't get any reading accomplished. The weekend was still inundated with words, though, despite my lack of reading...

"You know, actually, you're the first person I ever told about this, and I feel a little bit better." (from "The Flood," in Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues)

For the sixth time, I watched Illinois College's production of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues; in the second annual one I performed the monologue "The Flood," so that one will always have a special place in my heart. I think that the last line of that monologue, shown above, is one of the most important reasons why we perform and promote VDay year after year. Ensler is right in the opening monologue when she says it's worrisome when we consider how little we talk about these important issues in our culture. It's empowering and comforting to realize other women have had experiences or thoughts very similar to ours. I love hearing new women perform the same monologues each year, emphasizing different lines each time and personalizing the stories to make them their own. I like being able to whisper a line or two to myself as we relive those familiar stories together.

Each year, though, new monologues are introduced to the production, and these are another essential reason for perpetuating VDay. These are the monologues that rarely stir up laughter in the audience; these are the monologues that tell us of the horrendous experiences women have all over our world; these are the monologues that educate us so that we can make a difference and incite change. I love how Ensler draws us in, reminds us that we are all connected, and then shows us the importance of doing all we can to protect and stand up for one another.

"Why do I do it?" (from Ken Bradbury's play From Behind the Curtain)

I also saw my first Ken Bradbury play, From Behind the Curtain, which makes me feel like an official resident of the Springfield/Jacksonville area now. The man is a legend, both in my world of education (he taught for years at Triopia High School and was known throughout our Region) and, obviously, in the world of community theater. It was actually really cool to sit in the Hoogland and see the playwright sitting in the last row of the section below us. He even played the accordion for one of the songs. Completely awesome! I also thoroughly enjoyed the stories Bradbury shared that he collected from local actors. I may not participate in community theater, but I enjoyed hearing about it. And most important, at least for me, were my proud teacher moments -- two JHS students were in the play, one of whom has been my student twice. It's difficult to describe how proud I feel when I see my kids excelling in something so wonderful, even when I only know one actress because she delivers passes from the office to kids in my class. To see them so passionate and so successful is simply inspiring.

"When it falls apart, the pieces fit; you won't see it 'til you're blinded; you can let it go, or hold it tight; when you lose your life, you will find it..." (from "When It Falls Apart" by Matthew Perryman Jones)

And on the Sunday of my long weekend, Em and I drove four hours (one way) to see Matthew Perryman Jones in concert at the SPACE in Evanston, IL. Like the fanatic fans we are, we drove there to see Tyler Hilton a few months ago; this time, we discovered MPJ through a free download of a mix of his songs and days later realized we'd both be free to drive up and back for his concert. It was fate.

Being the word person I am, I'm very lyric driven when I choose my music. Songs can't just sound good; they need to say the right things, and if they don't, the even catchiest tune usually can't redeem the song for me. MPJ is a songwriter after my own heart -- the lyrics are thoughtful and line up and tell me ideas I like to ponder (and sing at the top of my lungs) again and again. I have found, though, that I have to be in the right mood to listen to his albums because the music itself isn't all that peppy.

The best part of this concert experience was that we went for MPJ and fell in love with two more artists, too. Kathryn Ostenberg and Jay Nash also performed and immediately won me over. Jay Nash's songwriting skills are as impressive as MPJ's, and I can listen to his songs even after a long day in Classroom 809.

Now, I'm off to read another segment of my current book, The People of the Book, before starting the first of five full weeks at work. We'll see how long it takes me to finish this one...