Waking Up

I once told a friend (and made a passing remark on my previous blog, may it be restored soon) that like millions of women around the world, I wanted to fall for the dark, broody, tortured artist type - only to wake up one morning and realise that 'dark' really meant incessantly depressed, 'broody' meant moody and 'tortured artist' was just a euphemism for the mengada cam nak mampus type.

To me, Jewel's song Foolish Games underlines that moment when one realises this reality.

Foolish Games
by Jewel

You took your coat off and stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.
And I watched from my window,
Always felt I was outside looking in on you.
You're always the mysterious one with
Dark eyes and careless hair,
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care.
You stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather.

Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees, and...

These foolish games are tearing me apart,
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.
You're breaking my heart.
You're always brilliant in the morning,
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee.
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you.
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar.
You'd teach me of honest things,
Things that were daring, things that were clean.
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean.
I hid my soiled hands behind my back.
Somewhere along the line, I must've gone
Off track with you.

Well, excuse me, guess I've mistaken you for somebody else,
Somebody who gave a damn,
Somebody more like myself.

You took your coat off,
Stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.