Let me play you the song of my people
This Saturday, I’ll be helping to teach a workshop on songs of love and death in Irish and Scottish folk music. I didn’t realize until this week the sheer volume of the aforementioned genre. Seriously guys, EVERY FOLK SONG IS ABOUT AT LEAST ONE OF THOSE TWO THINGS. ALL OF THEM. And most of them are about both.
WHY ARE THERE SO MANY SPRIGHTLY MURDER BALLADS? I know like four love songs that actually end happily. Out of hundreds of them. Seriously. Four.
Dammit Gaels, WHY ARE YOU SO DEPRESSING?
On a lighter and more personal note, I think I may actually be in a healthy relationship. Which is kind of a big deal for me. Like, there isn’t any angst or guilt or weird codependence. I’m actually really happy. I can’t decide if that makes me nervous or not, but the dopamine is telling me not.
At the same time, I feel guilty for fucking up all my other forays into the dating world because apparently I can actually manage to connect with someone on an emotional level, I just wasn’t letting myself. Also, I feel like I should be steepling my fingers under my chin and nodding knowingly with all the psychobabble crap I just wrote.
Nurr.
Until next time,
Hugs, kisses, and other inappropriate things to be giving to strangers,
-Ed
