Lindsay and I sat on the couch last night and revealed things to each other. Lindsay was sick and convinced that the cure was sitting down for long periods of time and having some wine (she’s almost Italian, i know), and i was feeling about to be sick and was convinced that the preemptive cure was lots of vanilla ice-cream and lounging in sexy-but-comfortable clothes. I don’t think either of us was correct in our convictions, because this morning we both appear to be sick, but somewhere along the way we both decided that the television was rotting our brains, and so we shared.
Lindsay is a Digital Media major and total artistic genius. She sings, she draws, she designs, she photographs, she writes, she composes. She brought out three different versions of her creativity in physical form for me to see… an allegory, a play, and a picture-book. And, after having sat there watching her share things to me that she treasured so carefully none were crinkled or smudged, the only thing i could think to give back were songs.
I have songs that have never been crinkled or smudged… songs that i have left alone for so long that i stumble over the words and chords. So, i brought down my poetry book and gave Lindsay three songs, two of which i don’t ever really give… one of which no one has ever really heard before in real life (it was Trio-ed, once). And, i told her the story; my songs are pretty 3-minute tonal pictures without a smudge on them, but saying what it stood for turning some silly little song into something more important than i ever could have intended. Who knew that some silly emotion i felt Senior year of highschool could almost bring me to tears three years later? And who knew that such intentionally silly little words would come off so meaningful when prefaced by an explanation that had never seen the light of day before?