I'm Not California
it's time to love so loud
John Craigie has a beautiful song called I Am California. It’s tender and true and is a tripwire to my nostalgia for all things Pacific. It’s sung from California’s perspective, and she makes the case that you will always want her wherever you are. The Apple Music algorithm, in its underwhelming wisdom, thinks that if you listen to a song like this- you aren’t going for bittersweet poignant folk; you must want songs about California, and so it serves up “I Wish They All Could Be California” in succession, and it was just too much.
While I have a higher self, she is not always in charge, and sometimes I find myself thinking of the West Coast, missing it, and feeling pretty sorry for myself. It may have been John’s song; it may have been the combo, but I found myself in a full “Good God, what have I done with my life?” kind of spiral.
You may or may not know- I moved from Vermont to the West Coast on a Greyhound bus in January 2000, and then, 17 years later, I moved back to my grandmother’s house in Vermont in a sprinter named Vanny Boy with my husband and soon-to-be son. I’ve been back 9 years now, and most of the time, I’m pretty content. I have great people here, and that’s what it’s really all about, but when I get the ache for the West Coast- it’s a pretty awful punch in the heart.
This isn’t California, and I’m not a California Girl. I’m a middle-aged songwriter with wrinkles and belly fat, and I am trying my best to get this story I am living to unfold with a late-blooming twist, but sometimes, I’m tired, and I want to pout.
So that’s where I was, sitting in my midlife angst, and I figured having some regrets seems like a good point of view for a song.
The funny thing about writing a song, you get to pick where it starts, but you don’t really get to pick where it takes you. It began as a pity party, but thankfully the song took over and wasn’t having it. When I got inside that melancholy and started poking around, I found that most of what I think of as the Golden Vibes from my time out west- well, sure, I’m missing my youth. But more than just that - I’m missing the youth that I didn’t know I had when I had it. I’m missing the freedom I wanted but never really actually gave myself.
It’s the most Big Sky kind of feeling there is when you recognize the rules that you have been hating are your own.
If my life were leaving tomorrow, would I spend even one second of it pining for what I didn’t get to do? Fuck no. I would wrap my arms so tight around the mess I have and just thank it over and over and over until they drag me away from it. I wouldn’t hold back. I would love so loud. I think that’s what they call freedom.
There’s no time to waste; there’s only time to be. I started out writing a song about how I didn’t live the story I thought I would, and I ended up writing a song that reminded me I’m still writing the story I’m living.
So much love to the West Coast that shaped me, much love to the Green Mountains that took me back home, much love to John Craigie and all the artists who articulate something true enough to give you a rock to jump from, and much love to the pool below; it’s deeper than we think.
I'm Not California (in progress) When you're thinking about what could have been and looking at what is A bet we lost is hauntin' us with an ever-present itch. Couldn't see from the underbrush that the road less traveled by Would lead us back to where we started. All that climbing and back at the bottom. Never found the world we wanted. Even though we tried. Drink my hoppy hazy, float my river lazy. Count my stars, make me laugh, smoke the end of last year's grass. Wander my mountains, kiss me like a fool. I'm not California, but there's gold here too. They say there's 50 ways to go, and it only takes a day. and all this time locked inside, I could have jumped the gate count the lines around my mouth and the corners of my eyes From all those nights, an inch from breakin', side by side, alone and achin', Might not pick the parts we're playing. But it's our story to write. Drink my hoppy hazy, float my river lazy. Count my stars, make me laugh, smoke the end of last year's grass. Wander my mountains, kiss me like a fool. I'm not California, but there's gold here too.
Wow. I read this twice. The lyrics wowed me but the post just as much. How beautiful and resonant. I hope this becomes an album. Thank you for this, what an amazing read.