I'm supposed to be writing a paper on determinism, free will, and moral responsibility right now. Apparently no one told Pandora that this would not be a good time to distract me, because City & Colour's song, "The Girl," just came up on my Josh Garrels station.
It's a really sweet song about how this guy is so grateful to his girl for staying true to him while he's off living his dream, and how he wishes that he could do better.
I wish I could do better by you
'Cause that's what you deserve
You sacrifice so much of your life
In order for this to work
While I'm off chasing my own dreams
Sailing around the world
Please, know that I'm yours to keep
My beautiful girl
Maybe it's silly, but that song reminds me of all of the reasons why I don't know if I should ever be married. For starters, all of the soft, emotional, I'm a girl so of course I love Disney princesses when I'm not making fun of them parts of me are all in favor of marriage. But there's a reason why I've always secretly (or not so secretly) sympathized with Brennan's character on Bones: when I see practical considerations that override an emotional response, I usually go in favor of the practical at the expense of the emotional. If that were not the case, I'd probably be in my third semester at CIU.
The thing is, I don't want to be that girl. Hmm, well, redaction: I'm more concerned that I would be in the singer's position. There is too much that I want to do, too many places I want to see. I don't want to settle down in virtually the same place I grew up. I want to live in another country or at least travel a lot, and to be honest, very few guys that I've known seem inclined in that direction. I would never want to ask someone to be the one waiting loyally either.
But that seems like such a thin excuse when it's laid out like that. If my heart says yes and my head says no, maybe it's just an attempt at self-protection. God forbid that the independent one should expose her brokenness, quiet her flightiness, and rest at peace in another song lyric, that "home is wherever I'm with you."
So much of my past few years has been a tug of war with home. I have a home: a place where random waitresses recognize me, no road leads to an unknown destination, and life is predictable. Or perhaps it's the people who I've known and loved through 21 years of knowing and loving, and home is wherever I am so long as they are no further than a phone call. Maybe this wandering grey pilgrim who will not be satisfied where she's at just needs to teach her restless heart a song of thanksgiving and put away her suitcases to gather dust.
Is that the right answer?
Because usually when I ask, the only thing I hear is, "Trust."
It's not very satisfying.
(In case you're confused, so am I. Not sure how I got from point A to point Z, but I blame Bon Iver and Peter Bradley Adams)