I'm sitting here on the couch with my laptop, earphones jammed in because Phillip is watching a TV show I cannot abide (I'm not even going to tell you what it is, THAT is how much I cannot abide it, you will just have to GUESS). And for a while I was writing the longest boringest post ever about my stupid NaNo novel but THEN. This song called 'Ramona', by Guster, popped up on my Pandora station (Carbon Leaf, if you must know.) And of COURSE I had to Direct Tweet Mona because a song! A song I like! With her name! Swoon!
And then I thought I would delete the longest boringest writing post and tell you about a song written for ME.
No. I am not talking about 'Maggie May', which I've never liked, and OMG people, in the Wikipedia entry it says, and I quote, "...Stewart recalled: "Maggie May was more or less a true story, about the first woman I had sex with..." and EW EW EW. I mean, ROD STEWART. ICK. DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.
There is also a Bob Dylan song about a Maggie, which is marginally more acceptable. I don't know of any others. Fin!
EXCEPT. When I was fourteen I was going out with this boy, my first REAL BOYFRIEND OMG, and he fancied himself a musician. (He IS a musician now, a fact I have gleaned from my only-to-be-used-for-good combined Google/Facebooky Powers. He, like, TOURS and everything and I suppose I must find some small amount of impressiveness in this, right? Granted.)
Okay, so First Real Boyfriend was a bit of a tool. I know that now. But at the time? HE HUNG THE MOON. He was older and smarter and more popular and he had a CAR and he played the saxaphone (so does the boy I married, btw, am sucker for Musicians) and was everything from Football Captain to Student Council President to Lead In The School Play. (It helps when you go to a school with, like, MAYBE 100 people in grades seven through twelve and NO I AM NOT KIDDING.)
So anyway. Swoonworthy, most definitely. And not just because he was, as I detailed above, Excellent Boyfriend Material. He was... kind of a mushy romantic dork. I mean, as much as you can be at age sixteen. He wrote me notes and letters and illegally drove me (illegally meaning my parents would have killed both of us, HERE I AM 'FESSING UP, PARENTS! I'LL GROUND MYSELF!) to scenic spots and confessed all sorts of shmoopy feelings for me. BLISS!
And one day? He said, "I'm writing a song about you."
That may or may not have been the moment that sealed the deal on When Maggie Grows Up She Will Write Long, Boring, Angsty Blog Posts About Writing YA Novels (That She Will Subsequently Delete Because That's How Much She Loves Her Readers).
So of COURSE I was eagerly awaiting the day I would hear this song, which supposedly he was setting to music with a couple of his friends who "were in a band". And now that I am older I know what "in a band" means, oh yes I do. It means early Saturday morning practice in your friends' garage while your wife wanders around the newlywed apartment, aimlessly, wondering what she got married for if her new husband was going to spend all his free time "practicing" for "gigs" and LET THIS BE A LESSON, ALL YOU GIRLS DATING BOYS "IN A BAND".
I never got to hear this song. At least, I can't remember ever hearing it. What a disappointment! I have a vague memory of reading the lyrics, which is SO not the same thing, and then I MOVED. I moved to a much bigger (though still very small) school where NONE of the boys compared to First Real Boyfriend and this meant I slogged through the next three years in a permanent state of Emo Pout. (Maybe THAT'S what sealed the deal!)
I can't say for SURE, because my memories of this are even VAGUER, and possibly I have tried very hard to BLOCK THEM OUT, but I am pretty sure I got a letter from First Real Boyfriend saying he had performed this song somewhere, but had CHANGED ALL THE WORDS. Meaning it was no longer about ME! Meaning THE OPPOSITE OF SWOONWORTHY.
So. I am still waiting. I don't have the most mellifluous name out there, I am WELL AWARE, but someone somewhere must be desperately in love with a Maggie and writing beautiful songs for her and I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT. Also: since my husband can play guitar and saxaphone and piano and sight-sing and generally kick everyone's butt when it comes to knowing things like, how many sharps are in the key of Super Crazy Hard To Play On The Piano, maybe HE should take up the cause.
Has anyone written a song for YOU? Go ahead, make me jealous. It'll just give me more evidence to pile in front of Phillip.