You thought I was joking in my Bon Iver post huh? Nope. That was some real talk. Many people don’t know this (and now way too many people will know this), but I’ve been writing song lyrics for years. It started as a form of self-expression/journal-ing but to call it journal-ing or diary-ing would a disservice.
Everything I wrote, I wrote to music. Not real music, just the music in my head (wait…what…?). My life has always been one big song. And when I sat down to write about my feelings, they always came out in sing-song form. When I would reread the words I wrote, I would sing them. My “diary” entries were always meant to be songs. However, the nine journals that I have filled over the years sit in a locked box for two reasons. 1) I can not write music and 2) I am terrified to share what I have written. Which doesnt make sense as evidenced by this blog. But there is something much more personal and vulnerable about writing song lyrics. I have probably only shared my lyrics with two people. Ever.
As I get older, I find that my self-confidence is slowly becoming less dependent on other’s approval of me (thank goodness it’s only taken me 21 years to crack that case). Perhaps at this point in my life, I could find the courage to share my words. So you could say this is a desperate cry for help – if you write music and need lyrics, holler at a friend. Help a dreamer dream. But this post is really more about showcasing my lyrical abilities without revealing the years of private and personal “songs” I have written.
My ability to rhyme most definitely passed down from my father. Who can forget his classic “Oh, the road to Hana was a lot of fun, until KC baby puked a ton.” And don’t forget about his infamous Church Rap – “All of a sudden, a light from above. Who could it be but the God of Love?” My first stroke of rhyming genius came at the age of 9, when I made up with a jingle for a local country radio station. “I can’t wait each morning to hear the radio say, this is 99.5 KWJJ”
Impressive, I know.
Since then, I have been scribbling on napkins, dollar bills, quizzes (while taking them), anything that I could get my hands on when the moment struck. A particular inspirational moment took place earlier this fall, when Ian’s Pizza announced they were holding a contest. Pizza-eaters everywhere were encouraged to submit creative pieces detailing their memorable nights at Ian’s. 15 minutes later, this baby was submitted. Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you, “The Time Ian’s Pizza Fell On Top Of Me.”
Twas a night like any other, a Tuesday, a Wednesday – who knows?
Janelle was newly single and wanted to meet new bros.
As her wing woman I obliged, but we had nowhere to go.
Then standing outside, we saw a man that could cure all our woes.
Red haired and curly, we spotted him from a mile away.
No shame in jersey chasing. No, not on that day.
He struck up a convo, and he invited us up to his humble abode.
Ten basketball players stood ‘round, looking lonely without hoes.
We were very much pleased to be with this basketball team,
Hoping that a hook up could lead to cash money dreams.
Alas it was obvious that we were not pretty, nor cool.
To such prestigious men, we looked like big fools.
So we stumbled out to drown our sorrows in food.
As many girls know, pizza can change any bad mood.
So we traveled to Ian’s where our entourage of lonely friends also were.
And I got two slices, thinking that would do it for sure.
There I sat, licking ranch off my face,
When I felt a huge crash that disturbed the whole place.
A giant poster had fallen and left shattered glass.
I was right in the center, embarrassed, oh yeah.
I was the girl that broke Ian’s. Ian’s fell on top of me.
Ian’s pizza – you taste so good, why were you so cruel to me?
Ian – you were the one man I thought I could trust,
And then there I was covered in glass and pizza and dust.
Everyone stared at the poster on my head,
And I thought for a second that I was definitely dead.
But instead I just ran, ran right out the door
No hard feelings Ian’s pizza – you fell on top of me but I still love you like a true pizza whore.