If's, And's, and Man-I-Wish-I-Was-That-Good's

If Momma hadn't grown up in an ultra-conservative household where she was told that landscape architecture was "a good avocation, but not a good occupation" for a woman, she wouldn't have gone into the traditionally female field of nursing. If my mom hadn’t been working as a nurse at the hospital in Clermont and taking care of a friend of my dad’s who'd been in a car wreck, they wouldn’t have gotten together. If they hadn’t gotten married, I wouldn’t have the hella-cool last name of “Slaughter”. If I hadn’t been born a Slaughter, chances are I wouldn’t have been brought up as a die-hard Gator. If I hadn’t been born a Gator, it wouldn’t have been my life’s goal to attend UF. If I hadn’t attended UF, I wouldn’t have expanded my mind with highly stimulating courses like Anatomy. If I hadn’t taken Anatomy my sophomore year, I never would’ve heard about the women’s rugby team at UF. If I hadn’t played rugby for UF, I wouldn’t have gone to the 2000 Mardi Gras tournament in New Orleans. If our coach hadn’t dropped the ball and had actually officially signed us up to play at the tournament, I never would’ve picked up with the North Carolina girls. If I’d never met the UNC rugby girls, I never would’ve lived in Chapel Hill. If it weren’t for living in Chapel Hill, I never would’ve heard of “Love, Actually”. If I hadn’t bought the “Love, Actually” DVD for my sister and watched the bonus interview with the director, I wouldn’t have noticed “Both Sides Now” being played during the scene where Emma Thompson realizes her husband has been having a mental affair with his secretary. If I’d never discovered “Both Sides Now”, I probably wouldn’t have been as humbled as a songwriter as I was when I found out Joni Mitchell wrote this song when she was 21 years old!

Twenty-one just happens to be the age when I really started crunching out songs, but they sure as heck weren’t as insightful and universal as this one:

Joni Mitchell

Both Sides Now


Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way
But now its just another show
You leave ‘em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away

I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
Its loves illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say I love you right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way
But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day

I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
Its life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all


Holy crap. Should every up-and-coming female singer-songwriter measure herself against this standard? Yes. Is it fair? Yes. Because there’s already too much overly-specific garbage out there about getting hurt by some guy or unrequited love or some other such BS. And yes, those are the kinds of songs I wrote when I was 21. But if you settle for creating trite junk just to make yourself feel better, don't expect to ever be considered great. I just wasn’t as smart or as talented as Joni Mitchell! Why God, why!??!!??? Well, because there can only be, like, ten in a million great singer-songwriters every generation. We can all get better the more we do anything, but some of us have a little bit extra, kind of like an athlete who has an extra gear no one else seems to have. That isn't to say that there aren't people (e.g. friends and family) who will appreciate or even enjoy your pain-driven musical memoirs, in the same way that even a mediocre athlete has fans rooting him on. But if you're gonna do anything, why settle for being just okay?

What makes a great song? First of all, the melody. It has to be catchy and stick in the listener's head. The lyrics have to be poignant and relevant in at least some small way to anyone who hears it.

Have I written any great songs? I can name one, called "Optimism". However, it is instrumental. It's the purest thing to ever come out of me; I wrote it for this kid I thought I was in love with in college (maybe I was, who knows?). I still get this soaring sentiment whenever I play it. So no lyrics - it was never intended to have lyrics because what I felt couldn't be articulated and to attempt to do that would only water it down.

But I digress. If I'd never played rugby, I never would've met the Men of My Life (a song title from my first record, Several Realizations Ago) who inspired my preferred art form. If I'd never gotten into writing songs, I'd probably be in a mental institution.

What does all this mean? I have no freaking idea.