I like country music. Especially country music with female vocals.
Most people say they dislike country music, and I can see why. It’s pretty sexist, with rigid gender roles and objectification of women and a glorification of conservative, white (and especially southern) culture. I can’t get past those things, but I tend to avoid the songs that do that. Anyway, I love country, because it reminds me of my grandmother. The woman who crocheted baby clothes and blankets for me, the women who raised four children pretty much on her own and married several times. The woman who never let us get away with anything, not even swearing at my cousin when I was five. Her house was in the country in Kansas, with a tire swing and Apple Jacks cereal. We didn’t have that at my house. She died around Halloween five years ago. I wish I could have seen her again before she did.
I guess there are a lot of things in my life that I wish I could have done differently.
I know I talk a lot about the same things too much.
I’m afraid of other people dying more than I am for myself. I’m afraid of Jacob’s parents dying because I know it will destroy him for awhile. I’m not ready to see him like that. I don’t think that I’ll ever be. I’m afraid of my parents dying because I’m afraid of how I’ll feel, or not feel.
Most of the music that’s my favorite tends to be sang by female voices. Neko Case, The Distillers, Garbage, Fiona Apple, Hole. The Cramps are the one that’s male-dominated vocals.
Anyway, this is a trend I’ve noticed before. I have various thoughts about various things and I always forget to write, but today I told myself that I wouldn’t forget. So here I am.
The weather has been rainy and cold. Very romantic. I feel kind of lonely. I always do. I have a good relationship with my husband and I love my children dearly. So why do I feel this way. Why have I always felt this way.
I feel like the only thing I’ve ever truly been in love with is the rain, and the wind. The wind has always given me a feeling that I can’t feel with a person. It’s what it felt like when I was deeply religious and everything was quite beautiful sometimes, when I really stopped and just looked at it. It still is, when I can get past how awful people are sometimes. It’s a quiet bittersweet feeling that feels so familiar and nothing else does.
It just is, I guess.
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