“Because The Moon Is The Same Wherever You Go”

Writing personal posts is always a weird experience. I don’t like it, but sometimes life urges you to do so. I’m writing this at night, while everyone else in the house is sleeping (cat included). Night is my favourite part of the day because I can finally focus on myself and my thoughts, so that’s clearly the best time to write those thoughts down. The reason why I’m sitting here at this witching hour is that today is my 40th birthday, a birthday which asks for a pause and some considerations.

Do I feel different, now that I’ve reached this age? If you ask me, I feel just the same. True, my body is getting old (no reason to deny it, because ageing is an unstoppable process), but my spirit kicks ass. I’ve changed a lot in the last 10 years, and sometimes I feel I’ve hidden part of myself somewhere, after covering it with thick skin. Life has forced me to do so because I need to take action when things don’t work the way they should and/or when I can’t change them. Changing myself (my attitude towards others, towards life in general, but my physical appearance, as well) seems the easiest and most convenient option, so be it. I’ve always liked changing and evolving, so it’s no big deal. Despite this, sometimes I turn to that part of myself I’ve hidden somewhere. I turn to it as if I were talking to an old friend, as if I were returning home after some time away. I turn to it and I feel my old self again. It’s a fleeting moment, but it’s so sweet, so heart-warming, so reassuring, that I’m starting to want it back. Yours truly is not a one-trick pony: I know I can’t be the romantic, heart-shaped-eyed, naïve girl I used to be, because life would swept me away again, but I can let the guard down through music.

It’s not a case that I’ve started buying vinyls again and that my most recent purchase is this album. Me listening to dream pop? Nonsense! Yet, I feel a certain connection to all the lyrics in this record, and Hope Sandoval’s voice is comforting, like embracing that part of myself that I’ve hidden somewhere. It all comes back for a bit less than one hour; after that, life loses that peculiar blurriness and everything is back into place: I can be the hard-working, hard-napping, sporadically chatty, usually dry-witted woman I’ve become, but I know that my old soft self is still around and nobody can take it from me.

Fade Into You has been featured in a multitude of tv show and cinema soundtracks [1], thus following the infamous steps of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. It’s a totally mainstream song but I’m strangely cool with that, because at the moment it’s having a therapeutic effect on me, which is what I need right now. Being 40 doesn’t necessarily mean feeling like a 40-year-old person, so no need to worry: I can keep on wearing my rock t-shirts and Converse hi-tops, strong of the fact that I have all the rights in the world to dress like I used to when I was 20. Right?

[1] I cringe at the thought it’s part of Starship Troopers soundtrack, but it’s also in Jawbreaker, a balancing act which sounds perfect.


One comment

  1. Wonderful post, super. I absolutely agree with you, when you say that there is a part of ourself, well or deeply hidden inside our own, that nobody can take from us. Happy 40th birthday, enjoy this day!

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