Fantastic Thing No. 1

I want you to read these lyrics:

Tell her a story.
Tell her the honest truth.
You treat her better.
Make sure to see it through.
Don’t be just everything she wants,
Be everything she needs.
When she says she loves you,
Tell her you love her, too.

Give her a reason,
Reason to love all you do.
She’ll tell you secrets,
You’ll tell her secrets too.
She’ll tell you all her hopes and dreams,
You’ll tell them too.
When she says she loves you,
Tell her you love her, too.

But don’t you run away run away
When you get tired,
‘Cause this will slip away slip away
And start a fire
That can never be put out.
Oh hurry, time is running out.
But don’t you run away run away
Before you tell her you love her.

When she says she needs you,
Tell her you need her too.
You tell her clearly.
Speak what your heart wants you to.
Tell her she's lovely.
Always tell her the truth.
When she says she loves you,
Tell her you love her, too.

But don't you run away run away
When you get tired
'Cause this will slip away slip away
And start a fire
That can never be put out.
Oh hurry time is running out.
But don't you run away run away
Before you tell her you love her.

(Tell Her You Love Her, Echosmith)

What’s your first thought about this song? …that could actually be a number of things. But my first statement I would make about this song is that it’s a love song sung by a girl to some guy about how he should treat some girl. Maybe that girl is the singer, maybe not. If you look at it like that, then this song’s okay, but not unlike others of its kind that have come and gone throughout the years.

I want you to read these lyrics again.

But now, I want you to look at them in this way: What if these were words from a girl, whose father had walked out on her family when she was young, directed to a father (or maybe fathers in general) about how she thinks he should treat his daughter?

Disclaimer: some of the lyrics might be a stretch.
And personally, I don’t agree that the fire in a daughter’s heart caused by the actions of her AWOL father could never be distinguished, though some might disagree with me.

But when you look at this song in that way, it gets so much cooler. :)

Also, if you’re going to look this song up, don’t Spotify it, YouTube it.
And don’t just pull up any version on the YouTubes, pull up the ACOUSTIC VERSION.

Acoustic only.

Listen to the other version if you want, because, you know, I’m all for you forming your own opinions and everything, but in mine, the acoustic is like, light years better.

The reason why you can’t Spotify it is that for some reason, Spotify (AND iTunes) decided to delete Echosmith’s acoustic album they used to have, which is where I first discovered this song. They only had the normal version, which is okay……. but again: acoustic = best version.

Good stuff. :)

Daydream No. 1

So there he is: Mr. Attractive.

She'd seen him before, but had never in her life uttered a word to him. Well, except for that one time when she told him that the paper of the flyer she handed out was courtesy of her father's large printer stocked with the high-quality sheets, but that didn't count. Besides, he was unavailable at the time anyway, and she's always given up a fight at the entrance of the opponent, considering herself no competition for destiny.

Not that she was looking then, anyway.

But now he seems to be unattached, and she's slightly intrigued. Has he always been that good-looking? She knows next to NOTHING about him, and they run in almost completely different circles. She thinks about giving up the fight to destiny yet again, but just wonders if there's any chance, any chance at all, that this could be the one to actually go somewhere.

Honey, please. We ain't talking marriage here. Calm yo'self.

But again, considering herself no victor in the battle with fate, and reminding herself that it's never happened, she thinks, "Why now?" and puts it out of her mind.

And then one day, a turn of fate in her favor.

It was the ONLY day of the week where their paths slightly graze. She takes her seat, intentionally alone, away from the other suitors who so persistently try to stick their feet in the door with hopes that she'll allow them to cross the threshold of the castle-like walls she has so carefully constructed over the years. And then, the part that she'd been waiting for: he walks into the room.

There he is, Mr. Attractive.

She holds her breath, trying to keep her secret, stolen glances to a minimum. Please, come sit by me. Please, come sit by me! She can't help but watch covertly as he surveys the room, looking for the best possible seat.

She tries to act natural. That's how she lives her life, anyway, so why should that be so hard to execute now? She looks down, pretending to nonchalant about the whole situation. To help her calm her nerves and to give her something to do with her hands, she takes out a pencil and starts to draw.

"Is anyone sitting here?" he asks.

Here he is, Mr. Attractive, looking straight at her, acknowledging her presence, actually speaking to her.

Did that really just happen? Have I actually understood?? Her brain quickly recovers from the shock and she smoothly (and naturally) replies with a smile, "No, go ahead. :)"

Money, she thinks to herself.

In an effort to make room for his friends, he sits next to her, but she courteously scoots over just a smidge to give him his personal space. ...but not too far. :)

He marvels at her beauty. Everything so natural and in its place, her simplistic style ringing true to her simple, genuine personality. But what does he know, anyway? He's never spoken to her in his life. He knows who she is, but they've never formally met. What do I say, he asks himself. He doesn't want to skip square one and delve into some small-talk conversation, assuming she knows who he is. But, he's sure that she does know exactly who he is, and he doesn't want to be awkward, assuming ignorance on her part with a formal introduction. But now that he's actually taken the first step in approaching her, he knows he needs to say something or else all of this effort he just put forth is wasted, and he'll have to wait a whole other week to get this chance back.

And even then, he'll have to use more subtle, creative means. If he sits by her twice in a row, she's sure to know he likes her. And heaven knows we can't have THAT.

"Hi, I'm *name has been removed. duh.*."

"I'm *you can guess the name, but for consistency's sake, and for anonymity in hopes that someone else might be able to insert him/herself into this story, it has also been removed*," she says with her same, gleaming smile.

Nailed it, he thinks to himself.

He then asks her about what she's drawing. Oh, it's just some phrase she remembered from one of her favorite movies. She's really not an artist, anyway, just a dabbling doodler, she guesses. He looks at the unfinished work on her paper and pulls out his own book of amateur, yet above average, drawings and holds it open for her to see. He's kind of a "dabbling doodler" too, he guesses. But his drawings are much better than anything she could ever conjure. She compliments his work, and comments on his talent. He laughs, excited that this is actually happening - that they're actually talking. And it's going well! She turns the pages and discovers the logo of her family's favorite college basketball team. She excitedly exclaims, "You're a Tarheel??" and he confirms. From there, the conversation turns to basketball days and running stories, takes a twist to some childhood memory he hadn't remembered in years, which reminds her of her family's dog, and heaven knows, he loves dogs. However, the meeting starts and they abruptly end their conversation to participate in the service.

At the close of the meeting, he thanks her for allowing him to join her, to which she cheerfully replies, "Anytime!" and they both make their way to the next meeting. Though there are multiple following meetings to choose from, they actually end up making the same choice, independent of one another. They don't sit with one another this time, though. Neither wants to smother the other, though both are fully aware of where the other is. Every once in a while, each steals a glance at the other. They make eye contact once, and she shyly looks away. He holds his gaze just for a few more seconds before turning his attention back to the lesson, a newly found energy elevating his spirit.

The rest of the day's happenings, my dears, is history. However, you will be delighted to hear that when they both laid in their beds that night, each recounted the events that transpired, thought of the other, and smiled. :)