You know how some songs pop into your mind at the strangest times? When all the memories of being in your body at the age you first heard it come rushing back until you’re here and there at the same time, kind of inside and outside yourself all at once?
I love it when that happens.
Today it was “When It Began,” by the Replacements. I can nearly remember every detail about the first time I heard it. 1990, New York City, living in a loft on the Lower East Side, with a band made up of messy dudes, and no other women around. Though some may call this a dream, it was anything but — the living arrangement, that is. I was writing and making a film, working as an editor during the day, rarely sleeping.
The Replacements song made me happy. It was about a relationship falling apart, it seemed, at least it’s not like it used to be. But from the sprightly tempo, you’re not worried about it. If this one doesn’t work out there’ll be another and another and another.
And today, as I was reliving the memories of this song and the way it made me feel, there was a new sensation that appeared in my body. It felt young and fresh and excited. It felt ready for a new change not in my relationship (pretty happy there) but in terms of new frontiers, new clients, new projects and even new types of work, and the new friends that go along with them.
Which I’m sure will be nothing like when all this began, meaning my life, and maybe that’s OK.