I didn’t begin to have true appreciation and love for the power of music until I began seeing performing arts shows regularly in Tampa. This was one thing my ex-husband and I loved to do together. We had season tickets to Tampa’s impressive Performing Arts Center for 7 years. I saw EVERY show that came to town for 7 years and fell in love with all of it! I had always been drawn to films, but the live nature of the shows blew me away. It was then, 1997, that I began dreaming of being able to do anything like that … to any degree.
One of the things I feel so privileged to have been a part of is the watching of my youngest brother become a more confident, talented musician in the early 2000s. He had taken the better part of a year and dedicated it to his musical development and anyone paying attention could see, hear, and feel how gifted he was. At the time, my husband operated the IMAX theater and associated lounging area at the local science museum in Tampa. This was a perfect opportunity for Drew to come up from Sarasota and perform. It was new & small, but every week, there were at least a half dozen people present. They were there to socialize with one another more so than to hear the live music, but it didn’t matter. He was doing it. He was singing and playing songs in public that he composed and wrote. And they were good. Really good. I was in the audience every week – the proudest older sister EVER!
I don’t know the first thing about singing. I do know that I have lived a great deal of my life vicariously through films, TV programs, books, and the lyrics of songs. Pathetic as that may sound, it is the truth. Without being aware of the fact that I did so, I shut my heart out to the connection I desired most after experiencing the worst heartache of my life at 19 years old. So, I sang my ass off to a ton of songs that expressed all that I was feeling at any given time in my life.
In my head, certain songs and scenes from films allowed me to have all of my dream interactions with those closest to me in my life. It was the only way I could truly & fully communicate, it seemed, with others. Because in “real” life, my honesty, my depth, my intensity… it always… ALWAYS hit one boundary or another in all of my relationships. The only way I knew how to be in the world – passionate to my core, endlessly curious, enthusiastic, idealistic, and intense – ended up, at some point, to be too much for everyone. Quite often, this lack of this immensely desired connection with someone else – ANYONE else – who wanted to live in the world like I did…it became too much for me. The only way I could cope with the loneliness, for years far beyond high school, was through media, such as films and music.
When I saw movies or heard songs that expressed exactly what I was feeling or depicted an experience very similar to what I was having, I felt those emotions to my core. I put myself in films in the role of the characters that most depicted me. I put myself in the voices singing lyrics that expressed living intensely. I didn’t experience, save for my athletics, a world where people were living with the same intensity as me and that killed my spirit. I wasn’t exactly aware that this was going on. I only knew that in a world where I regularly felt completely isolated, I felt better when I could identify with some form of creative expression and mimic it. I was profoundly affected by the arts, in this very mainstream manner. Without feeling less alone through identification with all of these “fictitious” experiences, I would not have survived my adolescence. The number of times I sang this song could serve as proof.
In 1994, when “Stay” was on the radio, in my mind, I was singing it to one person and one person only. Practically every lyric rang true. I was leaving Michigan for Florida and at some level I knew I would never be back. I was also leaving the only person in my life at the time that I longed to make proud. He was my inspiration to be the best person possible and as such, meant the world to me. Staying wasn’t an option but I wasn’t sure if I could stand on my own. I never could have guessed that it would have taken me 18 1/2 years to do just that. But I’m here. Thank you to Lisa Loeb for writing the perfect song to express such a monumental part of my story. I’ve loved singing it for now, almost 20 years.
And…to the person to whom I sang this song in my mind all those years ago…you will always be my first true inspiration. Just by being you, you made me strive to be the best I could be. Thank you for the example that has remained at the center of my heart for over 20 years. Finally, I see the miracle of what we shared instead of all the pain of what we felt we couldn’t share. The miracle is simple … just love … unconditional love.
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