[Someone's going to tell me not to worry]
When I listen to "Don't Worry Baby" by the Beach Boys, I imagine I'm exactly what a 14 year old girl listening to Dashboard Confessional is like. I get really down, really lonely, really inadequate - just generally really emo. It's pretty much a waste of time, like watching TV or something, because the only thing that comes out of it is this kind of emotional rollercoaster ride via my fingers typing or scrawling. On one hand, my right one, it's kind of good to have something to show for my mood, but on the other - well, isn't there something more productive I could be doing? That's why I don't listen to this song often. But when I do, it stirs such a strong emotion that there is no holding it back, no breaking it up, no ignoring it. So I do the only thing I can. I get started.
:The Body of the Paper:
"Don't Worry baby" by the Beach Boys. It's where I am, driving in a car. Can you see the dashboard lights glow on my face, reflect in my glasses? Here we'll sit, and talk about something in the air, or I'll sit by myself by the lake. Either way I know that the moon isn't out, and we cannot see, or I cannot anyway, past the breaking waves, the forest, the trees, whatever it is. All I know as I sit here, listening to "Don't worry baby" quietly lilt out of my speakers, is the breaking.
So why. Why is there something between those chords that encase me with a lonliness, like being out at my grandparents house on a boat in the middle of the lake - only now there is a moon, and I can see better the calm, the smooth, gently lapping water, where nothing is wrong, nothing that I can see, and that's what makes me even lonlier.
Because I gave up wishing on stars, for some reason, and it was never because the city lights blocked my view. I saw them, I knew they were there, but I was turning up the stereo and listening to the Beach Boys, and driving nowhere, just to waste the gas, so that maybe I'd run out and someone would worry, and someone would come and get me, save me.
But I wouldn't let someone save me, anyways. So when I drive down lakeshore it doesn't matter what song is playing, I can see the waves that crash over and over, beating against the wall and all I want to do is scream "Leave it alone leave it alone that wall can only take so much!"
But it's not a metaphor for me. I'm not a wall. I'm not even the ever-changing sand. I'm someone on the beach, sitting on a rock, pretending they are in a car so they can feel really sorry for themselves. I'm the one wishing to be swept away because then it would be something real that was wrong, it would be something that hurt me physically, it would be something like walking in an alley with earphones on, like not hearing the footsteps behind me, about it being too late and me in a hospital bed somewhere looking up at some scores of caring faces, because they would never let me down on something like that. People like tangible things.
But so do I.
And that's why I listen to "Don't worry baby" because besides being my tormentor its my salvation, it's my reminder that there is that kind of tenderness out there. There is that kind of person who would sit and tell me not to worry, when nothing was even wrong, just so I knew not to. That there is that someone who was there and I could feel it, hard, shaking me, even when they weren't next to me, that kind of specific love. I listen to "Don't worry baby" even though it makes me cry and yearn for that, because it reminds me that someday, when the timing is very appropriate, there will be something tangible for me.
And you know that feeling when someone says your name, and it can't be mistaken for anyone else, and they are talking to you because they want your attention, they want a moment of your time, a piece of your life? It gets me to thinking about relationships, as in the love kind, as in what we could never make our families even when we wanted them to be. As in that complete of some whole, because we're all feeling fragmented. Well, anyway, when I think about those relationships, I know it's pretty simple.
I think we're all just looking for that feeling when someone says your name
to last forever.