Starts with Sad, Moves to Tattoos

Listening to my Pandora radio stations, I've come to realize something. I like sad songs.

Like Ray LaMontagne's song "Empty"...

She lifts her skirt up to her knees,
walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing.
I never learned to count my blessings,
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters.

I walk on down the hill,
through grass grown tall and brown,
and still it's hard somehow to let go of my pain.
On past the busted back of that old and rusted Cadillac
that sinks into this field, collecting rain.

Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged.

And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary.
If, through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips,
I spoke these words out loud, would no one hear me?

Lay your blouse across the chair,
let fall the flowers from from your hair
and kiss me with that country mouth, so plain.
Outside, the rain is tapping on the leaves,
to me it sounds like they're applauding us and the quiet love we've made.

Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged.

Well I looked my demons in the eyes,
laid bare my chest, said "Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I've been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me."

There's a lot of things that can kill a man,
there's a lot of ways to die.
Listen, some already did that walked beside me.
There's a lot of things I don't understand,
why so many people lie.
Its the hurt I hide that fuels the fire inside me.

Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged.




And Bob Schneider's "2002"...

The year is two thousand and two.
I'm doin exactly what I wanted to.
And, baby, I don't even think about you anymore.
Just thought I’d drop you a line,
and let you know I was doing fine.
Cause, baby, it's been a long long time
since you walked out my door.

It took me some time, I must confess.
For a while there, I was feeling less than my best.
Had to get out of town, so I headed out west
and ended up in Seattle.
I thought I’d start a brand new band.
Thought I might call it Lonely Land.
Things got a little out of hand,
and ended up hooked on heroin.

So I ended up moving back over to Germany,
living with the folks, baggin' groceries.
But the time I had was mostly free.
Spent most of it drinking.
I got myself in a jam or two.
Guess it's what I had to do.
But late at night, I’d still think of you.
Felt like I was drowning.

'Til I met this girl at a discotec.
She was a dancer, baby, but not what you'd expect.
She taught ballet, and she was half-Czech, half Chinese.
But after she decided not to have the baby,
said she might move back to the mainland maybe,
by then I didn't really care.
I was half drunk, half crazy.

I got arrested, but never convicted.
My parents eventually had me evicted.
Tried your number, it had been disconnected.
Guess I should’ve known.
I heard you got married, and you moved away.
I called your folks, but to where they would not say.
Said it's probably better that way,
so I just let it be.

I moved back to Austin 'bout a year ago.
Drive a schoolbus, and I don't drink no more.
I go out every once in a while and see a show
but mostly I just watch TV.
So I don't know where I’m gonna send this letter.
I doubt things are ever gonna get much better.
It seems like life's one big whatever anyway.

I just thought I’d drop you a line.
Lie and say I was doing fine.
Cause, baby, it's been a long long time
since you walked out my door.


These songs are just TOO MUCH :-(

And yet I LOVE them for that.

But why? I mean, is it good to love something so sad? I know, I know, catharsis or whatever. But what is everyone's opinion on catharsis?

From that handy-dandy tool called Wikipedia, I found that the word catharsis means "cleansing" or "purging," which Aristotle, believe it or not, put into context...He claimed that one experiences catharsis when watching or listening to something tragic, and that the experience consists of "the human soul being purged of its excessive passions," a purging that "gives a periodic and healthy outlet to people's feelings." So, sad stuff relieves us of any pent-up emotions. It's therapeutic!

This other dude Lessing said something similar, claiming catharsis as "an experience that brings pity and fear into their proper balance." Balance. He continued, saying that, "through watching tragedy, the audience learns how to feel these emotions at the proper levels." Feel emotions at proper levels? Isn't that about the most interesting concept EVER?!

See, I just think that sad things make me understand the world more deeply. Like I'm vicariously living through various human experiences. And, let me tell you, there are good lessons in hardship. Hell, that's the whole meaning behind the fleur-de-lis, which I've got tattooed on the inside of my left wrist.

Fleur-de-lis means "lily flower" and, religiously, is known to be the flower that bloomed from the tears of Eve as she left the Garden of Eden and the flower that sprouted from Mary's tears at the foot of the cross. Beauty birthed from overwhelming sadness. Is that kind of like catharsis? Can good things, BEAUTIFUL things, come of bad and sad?

You know, thinking about my tattoos, I'm reminded of the time I explained the tattoo on my ribcage to my then ex-boyfriend.

I explained that it reminded me of raindrops on a windowpane, as if my body were raining on the inside. I'm sure he thought I was depressed (And likely saw himself as the inspiration. He wasn't.), but there was nothing sad about it, you see. I saw the rain as peaceful. And, coincidentally, cleansing.

Sure, I love my windowpane tattoo because of the sad implications, too (the skies' tears, downright dreariness...I love all things sad, remember?!). But I more love my tattoo because it makes me feel...complete, I guess. I've been told I'm a bubbly and overall happy person. And I'd agree. But, at the same time, my rain tattoo relays another layer. I know what comes of the rain: THAT WONDERFUL SMELL! Brilliant colors. GROWTH! And, of course, wonderfully-intricate water patterns on the windows! Beauty does indeed follow the rain :)

Can I just insert how odd it is that soon after I got my rain tattoo, I met my now husband who is OBSESSED with rain?! When he was a little boy, he used to place pots and pans under the eaves of his house so that when it rained, it'd make music. Meant. To. Be.

Welp, I dunno about you guys, but I don't think there's anything better than good ol' Wikipedia to inspire deep conversation (Or pictures of my tatted-up body! HA!).

Tangent: I am reading this book with a FABULOUS title: "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake." I have yet to decide if the book's a worthy read, but I was instantly sold on the title.

What are your guys' opinions on the above shtuff? Do you like sad things too?