Sweet (Creature) Summer

I like to live life on the edge, and by that, I mean I like to wait until the very last moment to return my library books before they begin accruing late fees even though I have not read the majority of them and the local library is less than a mile from my house. I know, badass, right? Another activity I’m putting off right now is packing. Packing for my trip to Colorado, packing for my move to New York. It’s all half done. My mom wants to show our house tomorrow to potential buyers (side note – my parents are looking for a new house…? Let’s put a “to be discussed later” stamp on that subject) and my room is a mess, which wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to most of you (haters) except that my room has been incredulously clean this summer. It’s a shock, even to me, the person who is doing the cleaning. What kind of monster have I become?

In the midst of all of this procrastination and avoidance, I found it a pleasant time to perform one of my favorite quarter-annual activities: writing about my top ten songs* of the season. And let’s be honest, summer is one of the most important times for music, because it’s the season I spend the most time a) alone and b) in my car, which may sound rather sad, but I LOVE driving and I LOVE myself even more, so HA!

* Please note that songs from Lorde’s Melodrama album will not be included because I’ve been attempting to craft an entire post dedicated to her record but you’re just going to have to wait a little longer because I can’t manage to find the words to do her words justice and it’s infuriating.

1. “Sweet Creature” by Harry Styles
   • From the moment I saw him at the Mall of America in my high school years, I knew he was the one I would marry. Though our unrequited love remains unrequited, I like to think this song is about me. On the real though, this album is BOMB. I’m so glad he went for an indie sound, which I knew he would (because I’m the sweet creature).
2. “Number One” by Tove Styrke
   • Easily my favorite song of the summer. I first heard it in an episode of Riverdale and I’ve been blasting it in my Honda Civic ever since I bought a radio transmitter on Amazon.
3. “Bad Liar” by Selena Gomez
   • I wasn’t sure I’d ever love a Selena song as much as “Hands to Myself”,  but man, is this song LIT. Though whenever I ask for the aux to play “Bad Liar”, it always receives mixed reviews. Thoughts?
4. “Feel It Still” by Portugal. The Man
   • I first heard this song on 89.3 The Current, a Minnesota Public Radio station,  and knew it was destined for greatness. Since, I have heard it played on many a VitaminWater commercial. Greatness? Of course.
5. “Don’t Kill My Vibe – Acoustic” by Sigrid
   • Picture the emoji of the two hands in the air when Sigrid hits the chorus in this jam. YAS QUEEN.
6. “Side by Side” by Wilder Adkins
   • “Side by Side” is that mellow acoustic track with the poetic lyrics that every great playlist needs.
7. “Cute – Recorded at Spotify Studios NYC” – Coast Modern
   • As the title states, this song is really freakin’ cute. My favorite line is “I choose you like a Pokemon/ I choose you, you selection one”.
8. “Stay Together” – Noah Cyrus
   • I like my friends and I like parties and I like this song with my friends at parties. That may be one of the most adolescent-sounding sentences I’ve ever written but I feel adolescent listening to Noah Cyrus so pass me a juice box. As an added bonus, listen to the song “Pretty Girl – Cheat Codes X CADE Remix” by Maggie Lindemann, Cheat Codes, and CADE because I think it fits the same theme.
9. “Last 10 Seconds” – One11Twenty
   • Looking at the title of this reminds me of one of my all-time favorite Broadway tunes called “The Next Ten Minutes” from JRB’s The Last Five Years and then I get emotional and break out into song. “Last 10 Seconds” just has that something special. Shouts to Spotify’s Discover Weekly feature.
10. “Don’t Take The Money” – Bleachers
    • All the love in the world goes out to Jack Antonoff for helping two of my best gal pals, T. Swift and Ella Yellich-O’Connor, write their albums. Now it’s time for his moment in the sun and boy does he deserve it.

If you fancy this post, follow me on Spotify here. Follow my SUMMER MMXVII playlist here.

OR LOOK AT THIS FANCY THING I JUST FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO HAHAHAHA ZACH MAY BE THE ONE MAKING HIS OWN FREAKING COMPUTER OR SOME PROGRAMMING SORCERY THIS SUMMER BUT I LEARNED HOW TO CODE STUFF TO ADD THAT THING DOWN BELOW I AM A WIZARD.

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/1221683022/playlist/3vebR2XoC0Kxu8PKCRQEUE

All I’ve eaten in the past three days is mini corn dogs: a memoir about a girl who is horrible with titles.

I haven’t written anything meant for the eyes of other human beings in over a month and I think it is a sign of my 20-somethings-post-grad-I-don’t-entirely-know-what-I’m-doing-with-my-life-but-I’m-trying-to-be-eternally-optimistic-and-my-ego-is-still-managing-to-grow crisis. That term I seem to have just coined has to be some sort of gross millennial thing and I’m almost sorry I wrote it down for you to read now but once again, I haven’t “published” anything in over a month and I’m not deleting words that I’m managing to type now. It feels good to have my fingers on the keys, to see my cursor inching to the right and quickly dashing down and back to the left as I punch every letter necessary to form a word and then a sentence and then eventually some sort of incoherent rambling that no one will likely read or want to read or like to read anyway. I finished reading Mindy Kaling’s book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) and began season one (make that season 2…) of Sex and the City today so I’ve had quite the overload of successful female writers and their amusing lives in the past 24 hours. I’d love to say that my bolt of inspiration derived from reading Kafka’s The Metamorphosis or listening to podcasts breaking down every piece of poetry ever written by e.e. cummings, but alas, I feel inclined to write after cackling at the witty prose of the woman partially responsible for my favorite TV show, The Office, and Carrie Bradshaw, a New York journalist and..er…intimate relations expert? I mean, it has it right there in the title. You can figure it out.

It’s true, though, lately when I sit down to write, the only thing that comes to mind is a quote from Little Women (the musical): “I can’t write. I can’t do anything, really.” Speaking of not being able to do anything, I couldn’t even pinpoint the source of this quote. About a week ago, I frantically texted Maggie, a film and television expert (and excellent friend – gotta write that in case she reads this), only to figure it out on my own as I was texting her. She hadn’t even responded yet. Pathetic. At twenty-two years old, this was the biggest obstacle of my summer. That, and bickering with my parents over buying groceries from Fresh Thyme on their credit card and unloading the dishwasher. Absolutely pathetic.

It’s not true that I haven’t written anything. Adrienne gave me a journal at graduation because she is the coolest friend in the world and I pen things in it occasionally. Fun fact about me: I always keep a notebook and a pen on my bedside table. I find that my best writing comes between the hours of midnight and 4:00 am, which is not good for my physical health, but is great for my mental sanity. Ernest Hemingway is famously misattributed with saying, “Write drunk, edit sober.” I say, write mentally exhausted in the nebulous depths of insomnia, edit caffeinated, which is what I’m doing right now. Anyway, what I’ve managed to etch in the dark, quiet, suburban bedroom of my adolescence on these humid summer nights is none of your beeswax. And just when you thought I could be literary, I throw a word like “beeswax” at you. I feel I have a responsibility to keep you on your toes, you know?

I leave for New York a month from today yesterday, and I really cannot wait. Though many think this summer is moving far too fast, I feel like I have been out of college for a century. It’s time for the next step. This morning, I sat outside reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith and thought about the significance of a one-way ticket. After the morning of August 6th, as I take off from MSP, I have absolutely no idea when I will ever again gaze at the wide expanse of a Midwestern blue sky, grip the steering wheel of my Honda Civic as I race down County Road 21 with the sunroof open, see boats and jet skis pass on the lake behind my house, or hear a clip from White Chicks playing through the walls and make the three foot trek into Zach’s room to laugh at random YouTube videos. Not that I will never have these things in the next year, but I have no date of return, no ticket home. And strangely, this feels invigorating. I am a seed in the wind ready to take root. Ugh, I just audibly gagged. Did you hate that metaphor as much as I did? I mean really, it doesn’t even make sense and it’s incredibly cliché. I think it’s time to sign off.

I do have so much more to tell you, though. I just need to figure out a way to get back to writing, to thinking, to being.

Thank you for nestling inside of my mind with me for a bit. It’s been a pleasure.

C.W.