sometimes a song

Once, I had a lot of time to dedicate to music. I played the piano (and a few other instruments less seriously). I participated in bands and choruses and ensembles. I bought records and spent hours on end listening to them, reading the liner notes, and finding or making a connection between the musicians' lives and my own. There were a great many songs that seemed to talk about my life.

Adulthood arrived (shudder), and jobs and responsibilities reduced the amount of time I could spend on music. Although still a significant part of my life, it could no longer be something I did nothing but. Much of my listening was relegated to the background -- desk radio, clock radio, kitchen radio. The car was one of the few places where I could really concentrate on music. And it's been in the car that I've still been able to selectively delve deep into some of it.

Recently, one album I can't get out of is Fiona Apple's "Extraordinary Machine." I was completely captured by her first album, "Tidal," when it was released nearly ten years ago. She writes amazing and unusual songs, and has a haunting voice. Although I love every single song on this new album, one has emerged as a metaphor for my life. It's called "Window."

I was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn't get a clear view
And as he went on and on,
It wasn't the outside world I could see
- Just the filthy pane that
I was looking through

So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window,
Than him, or her, or me

I was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got so
It may look like I'm concentrated on
A very clear view
But I'm as good as asleep
I bet you didn't know
But take the lot of it away
If you do

I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him, or her, or me.
I had to break the window
It just had to be (it was in my way)
Better that I break the window
Than forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see

Because, the fact being that,
Whatever is in front of me, is coloring my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing, in fact,
I only see what I'm looking through.

So again, I've done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer's always been in clear view
But even when the window's clean
I still can't see, for the fact
That when it's clean, it's so clear
I can't tell what I'm looking through

So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him, or her, or me
I had to break the window
It just had to be (it was in my way)
Better that I break the window
Than forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see

Ouch.

You know how interpretation can be. Some people will have absolutely no idea how this song applies to me. Others who know me well, and on whom I hoist too many of my woes, may just see what I mean.