"Wagon Wheel"

Wagon Wheel Old Crow Medicine Show-O.C.M.S.

The time is five in the a.m. and the day begins soon. I feel it coming on. It has not, however, started just yet. I awoke sometime in the hour of four, and then it simply felt wrong. Everything in me screamed for sleep, sleep until nine or ten at least. I tried, but this morning it is just not happening. Today, the Christmas of two thousand and nine, I was just meant to rise early.

So as I sat in my bed, plastic orange juice-filled cup to my left and laptop to my right, I supposed that now would be a good time to update the blog. My song of choice was to be “Here Comes the Sun,” the classic tune from the Beatles. Once again, I just did not feel it. Instead, I felt something else tug at me, something that I did not own. This something belongs not to me, but to five beautiful women. This morning, this something just feels right.

I tried to remember when the ceremonial “Wagon Wheel” dance came into my life, but I cannot pin it down. I can tell you, however, how. This strangely appealing banjo song country-waltzed into my life with five amazingly beautiful women. Now, do not underestimate the appeal of these women. A first glance at any of them will not suffice, and even a second, closer observation will leave you unsatisfied. There is something about each one of them that mysteriously grabs onto your heart, and it grabs on tight. They are the gentle sirens of whom you need not beware. They will not drag you down, but their genuine smiles and warm embraces will, instead, lift you up.

These girls, though they rarely bless me with their presence, always supply me with the moments of my life that I love the most. They all erode life down to the purest form- it is love and nothing more. And with thoughts of them, at now five twenty a.m. on this Christmas, I greet the morning. Rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel.

I love each of you ladies, and I cherish every moment that you give me.

[Wagon Wheel]

"Strawberry Swing"

Strawberry Swing Coldplay-Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends

A curious beat for a curious girl; for you, Morgan Turnage, are nothing other than a curious girl. The guitar is a twisted sort of merrymaking incarnate; the sporadic and jovial beat is an open field, wide freedom begging to be seized; the escalating strings are a steady joy. Every moment so precious, my dear Morgan, I would not want to waste a thing.

This song, a flickering montage of perfect days, Morgan Turnage, this song is for you. It swells with the wet showers of Hurricane Hannah and sings of spontaneous wanderings. It stretches from Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street to Central Park South, from Little Haiti to Santa Monica, every so often pondering the curious irony of metal statues and metal allergies. This song, Morgan Turnage, cries of your strange, strange destructive habits of inquiry, of your near monumental massacre by the multitudes. It softly hums of your self-proclaimed paparazzi in the park, and, Morgan Turnage, it realizes that today is such a perfect day.

I love you, Morgan Turnage, and I love today; I love every day in which you grace my life with your presence. You might someday find yourself in your beloved India, but I will find you, Morgan Turnage. I will find you.

[Strawberry Swing]

"Say (All I Need)"

Say (All I Need)OneRepublic- Dreaming Out Loud

Sometimes life is hard, and there is simply nothing that we can do for the moment to change it. We want nothing more than to collapse onto our bed and crawl under the covers. So what if our clothes are on? So what if New York street germs are still clinging like death to our shoes? Right now, we just do not care.

Maybe those finals are slowly vacuuming the air from our lungs as we stare beyond those Plexiglas safety walls. Maybe we have problems larger than school, ones that seem to reoccur in new forms but still reek of the same, old stench. Large or small, even if insignificant on the other side of tomorrow, they bog us down. They threaten to perpetually deny us of the simple joys that usually keep us alive.

Now, my friend, now is the time for us to embrace OneRepublic. All we need is the air we breathe, and a place to rest our heads. Life, it is hard, but it will never get any easier; it can only promise to be different. We are so fortunate to laugh our way through most of lives. We live in one of the most thriving cities in the world, and we have some of the best, most genuine friends. To expect perfection from life is to tempt it to take us down, to ask life to punish us for our ego. We are not perfect. How can we expect perfection?

No. We must embrace difficulty as one half of the dichotomy. There is this difficulty, these obstacles that scatter themselves throughout our lives, and there is the ease with which we live most of it. So lay your head down, allow your emotions to rise with the tension in the song, and then let them go. We cry tonight, but tomorrow we live again.

I love you, oh sister of mine, more than you can imagine. Together we press on.

[Say (All I Need)]

"The Heart of Life"

The Heart of Life John Mayer- Continuum
The soft strumming of a guitar, it sounds like fall. The notes are neither slow nor fast, but live within the steady realm of contentment. The tempo is one of an easy stroll, one that allows you to calmly gaze at the world around you. Turn it up, for the song will never feel too loud. Drown out the racket of tourism and daily monotony that define December in New York City, and feel contented with just this- the soft lull that is John Mayer’s voice.

The song emanates a peace that is rarely found in the city. With a repeating rhythm and a simple spirit, it describes a crisp day in the park. It tells of the warmth that Christmas lights and candles know best and the friendly calm of wine shared with a close friend. I, along with most close friends of mine, agree; John Mayer is the douche bag with the guitar. It remains undeniable, however, that with this song he captures something great.

As you walk through these streets, weaving your way in and out of person after person, take a moment to play this song. Perhaps you, like me, will notice that your pace slows down. That shadow of things left to do- the one that continuously flattens your heels as you speed through your day- maybe it disappears, even if just for three minutes and nineteen seconds. And for that temporary peace, my friends, I must thank good, old John and Stephanie DeVita (pictured above), the dear friend who sent it my way.

But do not get me wrong. I still think he is the douche bag with the guitar.
[The Heart of Life]