Honey and the Moon
"Right now, all your dreams are waking up."
Anyone who has spent more than two minutes with me knows of my obsession with music. I have a playlist for everything, I have a song for every mood and every moment, and I am always more than happy to give recommendations for new music (though you might just get a three page long list). When I want to process things, I go to my music and I search; once I find the right song, what I'm feeling suddenly becomes tangible. Lately, I've been searching for something to make what I'm feeling now real like that, but it's been difficult. The closest I've come, I think, is "Honey and the Moon" by Joseph Arthur.
To me, this song expresses a sort of love that's all about the wrong place and the wrong time. It's all about this sort of temporary moment that sparks feelings that just won't go away, and I feel that about Florence right now.
There's no eloquent way to say it: I don't want to leave. And it's more than just me liking the city a bit or having friends I don't want to say goodbye to: I have never loved a place as much as I love Florence. I have never felt so at home anywhere else. I am stressed and exhausted (as I am by this time every semester), but I feel light and happy here in ways I never have before (except maybe in Disneyland, but unfortunately I can't live there). I felt homesick for approximately three days before I proceeded to begin my intense love affair with this city--and now, several months later, I find myself dreading with every fiber of my being ever leaving.
It's not that I don't miss parts of Hawaii. My parents, my friends, and my pets are all back home, and I do miss them, but I also know that I don't lose them when I leave, as proven by my time here. I've always wanted to leave Hawaii, but I had always feared that I would lose the relationships I've been forging over the past two decades; now that I know I don't have to be afraid of that, I am all to ready to pack my bags for good. And I am hoping that, once I do pack those bags and leave rock, I will be returning to this city that I so love.
Never before have I so clearly wanted to be in one place. I've always been content with the idea of temporary stays in many places, going where the metaphorical wind blows me, but now that I've had a taste of this life, the life I could be living permanently, that idea of sounds hollow and actually quite dreadful. I never expected, in my twenty years, to be enamored with a place--to me, places have always been just a background for the rest of life that really doesn't change much from city to city, country to country--but here I am. Florence is a living, breathing thing, and it's warm embrace has sucked me in for good.
As good as it feels to have found a place like this, to know that there is a place that I can call home--a different kind of home than where I grew up, one that I choose and love all on my own--it is also bittersweet. For one, it's quite a lonely feeling in the sense that I have yet to meet someone (here or back home) who really understands what it feels like to find a place like this. And, honestly, some of my classmates look at me like I'm being too much a romantic when I wax poetic about my city, but it's this incredibly intoxicating feeling. It's also difficult because I know that I have to leave this city and I know that coming back for good will take time and a LOT of effort.
The realist in me says to rein my hopes in and think about the difficulties, but for the first time I'm telling that realist to shut up, because I'm going to do it. I have never so confidently known what I want to do in the future. When people have asked about plans after college, all I've known is graduate school basically wherever the money is, and while that is the prudent way to go about things, it also means giving up on the place that has stolen my heart in ways that no person or place ever has before, and I don't know that I could do that even if I wanted to. It will be difficult to get there, the realist is correct in saying that, but it's been difficult to get to all of the other places I've been in life, and here I am. I founded a congressional debate team, I became the first ever student conductor at my high school (all without learning to read music until just before I got the job), I was one of 15 in the country to go to Russia through a state scholarship, I got a full ride to my university, I'm doing a thesis for my bachelor's degree, and I'm in Florence, Italy (where I finished my first full length research project and could even publish my findings). All of this I've done by sheer force of will and lots and lots of hard work. But here I am. I've done it all. I've pushed myself harder and harder each day, but it's paid off each and every time. (Edit: I wasn't going to but now I have to: "I am not throwing away my shot! / I am not throwing away my shot! / Hey yo, I’m just like my country / I’m young, scrappy and hungry / And I’m not throwing away my shot!")
So, the realist is correct, and maybe I am being a bit of an idealist, but I know I can do it. I know I will do it. I have to do it.
Joseph Arthur, in "Honey and the Moon," says that no one lives on the shores of freedom, and maybe that's true, but I'm still going to sail there.
I'll leave you with an entire song, now, rather than just lyrics. It's one that I've always loved, that's grown a new meaning in my little city. And, of course, it's from The Avett Brothers :)
Anyone who has spent more than two minutes with me knows of my obsession with music. I have a playlist for everything, I have a song for every mood and every moment, and I am always more than happy to give recommendations for new music (though you might just get a three page long list). When I want to process things, I go to my music and I search; once I find the right song, what I'm feeling suddenly becomes tangible. Lately, I've been searching for something to make what I'm feeling now real like that, but it's been difficult. The closest I've come, I think, is "Honey and the Moon" by Joseph Arthur.
To me, this song expresses a sort of love that's all about the wrong place and the wrong time. It's all about this sort of temporary moment that sparks feelings that just won't go away, and I feel that about Florence right now.
There's no eloquent way to say it: I don't want to leave. And it's more than just me liking the city a bit or having friends I don't want to say goodbye to: I have never loved a place as much as I love Florence. I have never felt so at home anywhere else. I am stressed and exhausted (as I am by this time every semester), but I feel light and happy here in ways I never have before (except maybe in Disneyland, but unfortunately I can't live there). I felt homesick for approximately three days before I proceeded to begin my intense love affair with this city--and now, several months later, I find myself dreading with every fiber of my being ever leaving.
It's not that I don't miss parts of Hawaii. My parents, my friends, and my pets are all back home, and I do miss them, but I also know that I don't lose them when I leave, as proven by my time here. I've always wanted to leave Hawaii, but I had always feared that I would lose the relationships I've been forging over the past two decades; now that I know I don't have to be afraid of that, I am all to ready to pack my bags for good. And I am hoping that, once I do pack those bags and leave rock, I will be returning to this city that I so love.
Never before have I so clearly wanted to be in one place. I've always been content with the idea of temporary stays in many places, going where the metaphorical wind blows me, but now that I've had a taste of this life, the life I could be living permanently, that idea of sounds hollow and actually quite dreadful. I never expected, in my twenty years, to be enamored with a place--to me, places have always been just a background for the rest of life that really doesn't change much from city to city, country to country--but here I am. Florence is a living, breathing thing, and it's warm embrace has sucked me in for good.
As good as it feels to have found a place like this, to know that there is a place that I can call home--a different kind of home than where I grew up, one that I choose and love all on my own--it is also bittersweet. For one, it's quite a lonely feeling in the sense that I have yet to meet someone (here or back home) who really understands what it feels like to find a place like this. And, honestly, some of my classmates look at me like I'm being too much a romantic when I wax poetic about my city, but it's this incredibly intoxicating feeling. It's also difficult because I know that I have to leave this city and I know that coming back for good will take time and a LOT of effort.
The realist in me says to rein my hopes in and think about the difficulties, but for the first time I'm telling that realist to shut up, because I'm going to do it. I have never so confidently known what I want to do in the future. When people have asked about plans after college, all I've known is graduate school basically wherever the money is, and while that is the prudent way to go about things, it also means giving up on the place that has stolen my heart in ways that no person or place ever has before, and I don't know that I could do that even if I wanted to. It will be difficult to get there, the realist is correct in saying that, but it's been difficult to get to all of the other places I've been in life, and here I am. I founded a congressional debate team, I became the first ever student conductor at my high school (all without learning to read music until just before I got the job), I was one of 15 in the country to go to Russia through a state scholarship, I got a full ride to my university, I'm doing a thesis for my bachelor's degree, and I'm in Florence, Italy (where I finished my first full length research project and could even publish my findings). All of this I've done by sheer force of will and lots and lots of hard work. But here I am. I've done it all. I've pushed myself harder and harder each day, but it's paid off each and every time. (Edit: I wasn't going to but now I have to: "I am not throwing away my shot! / I am not throwing away my shot! / Hey yo, I’m just like my country / I’m young, scrappy and hungry / And I’m not throwing away my shot!")
So, the realist is correct, and maybe I am being a bit of an idealist, but I know I can do it. I know I will do it. I have to do it.
Joseph Arthur, in "Honey and the Moon," says that no one lives on the shores of freedom, and maybe that's true, but I'm still going to sail there.
I'll leave you with an entire song, now, rather than just lyrics. It's one that I've always loved, that's grown a new meaning in my little city. And, of course, it's from The Avett Brothers :)
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