Somebody Told Me.
If you believe in magic, come along with me
We'll dance until morning 'til there's just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we'll go dancing, baby, then you'll see
How the magic's in the music and the music's in me
Yeah, do you believe in magic
Yeah, believe in the magic of a young girl's soul
Believe in the magic of rock and roll
Believe in the magic that can set you free
Ohh, talking 'bout magic
Right now I'm living at work.
Yes. Living. At. Work.
And yes, I do get paid by the hour for this.
I like to think of it as being paid for a birth control drug trial. Yesterday, on my way to pick up my charge from weekend-camp I actually thought about what I was going to make for dinner. There I was, twenty-three years old, driving a twelve passenger (!!!) van, thinking about whether or not to make hot dogs or order pizza.
I can be as judgemental as the best of them, but I've been trying to work my way down. It's too easy to judge a middleaged woman raising a grown baby and a loser of a nearly twenty-something son. It's easy to say 'my way's better'. But its not too easy to live her life for even two days. It's not easy listening to children's music seven hours a day, its not easy changng his movie every seven minutes and being happy about it, its not easy putting him in the van, putting him on the bed, putting him on the toilet, brushing his teeth, making him dinner, feeding him dinner or taking him for a walk. It's not easy waking up every hour just to make sure you can still hear him breath then waking up the next morning ready to take on the day.
Its easy to judge a woman who's life hasn't been easy since the day he was born.
And whats most interesting about walking two days in her shoes, everyone I encounter wants to judge her too. The nurse thinks she gets angry too much, the day camp director thinks she is too picky, the bus driver thinks she needs a schedual and her twenty-something loser of a son thinks she has too many rules... she cares too much.
Everyone wants me to agree. Because if I said it was true, while living her life, then it must be so.
The only reason I had him out to the bus on time today was because my life hasn't been easy for a day. Her's hasn't been easy for 18.
If you believe in magic, come along with me
We'll dance until morning 'til there's just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we'll go dancing, baby, then you'll see
How the magic's in the music and the music's in me
Yeah, do you believe in magic
Yeah, believe in the magic of a young girl's soul
Believe in the magic of rock and roll
Believe in the magic that can set you free
Ohh, talking 'bout magic
Right now I'm living at work.
Yes. Living. At. Work.
And yes, I do get paid by the hour for this.
I like to think of it as being paid for a birth control drug trial. Yesterday, on my way to pick up my charge from weekend-camp I actually thought about what I was going to make for dinner. There I was, twenty-three years old, driving a twelve passenger (!!!) van, thinking about whether or not to make hot dogs or order pizza.
I can be as judgemental as the best of them, but I've been trying to work my way down. It's too easy to judge a middleaged woman raising a grown baby and a loser of a nearly twenty-something son. It's easy to say 'my way's better'. But its not too easy to live her life for even two days. It's not easy listening to children's music seven hours a day, its not easy changng his movie every seven minutes and being happy about it, its not easy putting him in the van, putting him on the bed, putting him on the toilet, brushing his teeth, making him dinner, feeding him dinner or taking him for a walk. It's not easy waking up every hour just to make sure you can still hear him breath then waking up the next morning ready to take on the day.
Its easy to judge a woman who's life hasn't been easy since the day he was born.
And whats most interesting about walking two days in her shoes, everyone I encounter wants to judge her too. The nurse thinks she gets angry too much, the day camp director thinks she is too picky, the bus driver thinks she needs a schedual and her twenty-something loser of a son thinks she has too many rules... she cares too much.
Everyone wants me to agree. Because if I said it was true, while living her life, then it must be so.
The only reason I had him out to the bus on time today was because my life hasn't been easy for a day. Her's hasn't been easy for 18.
posted by Laura at 10:33 AM
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