More Than Words

New cover today of a song that’s been much too covered, but I don’t care because I love it. I learned the first half of the song way back when I was about 14 from my cousin Missy and continued to know only half of it until today when I finally sat down and decided to learn it in full. It was pretty much the only song I knew on the guitar until I was about 22 when my dad sent me a guitar while I was living in NY to cure me of my homesickness [it worked for a spell]. Considering I only knew how to play the verses, no one ever wanted to hear me play it.

I’ve always loved the message of this song. Though I do talk a lot—this blog is evidence enough of that—I’ve never been very skilled at verbally expressing how I feel about someone unless I have time to sit down and write out a thoughtful letter. I think it’s because I learned early on that romantic words can be just that… words. And even more dangerous: words that are carefully placed together to create a loving scenario whether the love actually exists or not.

In my last semi-relationship, my main fault—according to the guy—was my incapacity for letting him know how I felt about him. He needed me to open up; I needed him to give me time. I always thought the little things I did like taking care of him when he was sick, or cooking him dinner or trying my best to get to know his friends and still give him space was enough to show that he was different, he was special… to me.

But guess what? It wasn’t. Oh well… as I always say, c’est la vie.

Either I find a guy who just gets my weird ways or I’ll be a forever bachelor. And yes, I think women can be them too. Screw the “ette”… if I go by that term, I’ll be called an old maid by the time I’m 40. And who wants that?

Anywho… here’s the cover. I had one… two… three… maybe four serious mess ups, but me thinks it’ll do.

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Oafish Laughter

I tend to avoid hearing recordings of myself speak.

In my head, I imagine sounding polished, my voice just the right amount of smoothness & depth, with a bit of elegance to my accent. In reality, my voice is much higher pitched than I’d prefer [it reaches the point of shrill at times] & every so often that old valley accent that I attempted to correct long ago is resurrected without my knowledge [usually at high points of excitement].

What I dread to hear all the more are recordings of my laughter. Some of my friends, in their polite fashion, have told me that my laughter is delightful and infectious [probably because they’re laughing AT me] but let’s be honest: I guffaw. I cackle. When I laugh, it’s usually so hard that my entire body is affected by it: head back, shoulder’s shaking, foot stomping the ground and hands clapping. Lord, I must look like a fool when I laugh. An oaf, so to speak.

Case in point: a video my cousins and I made one day after the gym when we were in a goofy sort of mood [disclaimer: I look like an absolute idiot for 99.9% of this vid but I’m totally ok with that]—

Despite this known fact, I can’t help but laugh all the time [much to the dismay of the people around me]. Laughing is simply one of my favorite things to do—especially when I laugh at myself. In fact, I need to be able to! I fall a lot and sometimes catch myself saying the most idiotic things. If I took myself too seriously, I would have an extremely low sense of self [I don’t].

So, shrill voice and oafish laughter aside, I kind of like myself a whole lot. Which is a good thing…

I think.

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The Only Exception

Yes, I know… I went MIA.

Blame NY, blame Las Vegas and lastly blame LA. Suffice it to say: my life over the last 3 months has been one whirlwind of adventure. This warrants several posts so I’ll save the stories for a later date (but I’m not promising anything).

I did, however, upload a new video on my [even more neglected than wordpress] youtube page.

And before any of you curious little critters decide to message me with questions about my love life: no, I have not found my only exception. Still… it doesn’t mean I can’t sing about it. ♥

“The Only Exception” by Paramore


I started to teach myself guitar earlier this year and though I haven’t progressed very quickly, I can now [somewhat] carry a tune on the guitar without messing up too badly. I’m still pretty awful, but it’s a great sense of accomplishment to be able to accompany myself while singing. I know I’ve done so on the piano in the past, but I’ve wanted to be able to play the guitar for so long, it’s nice that I now finally have the time to sit down and strum those strings.

I know this song isn’t exactly new, but it makes me smile.