Acting like Summer and Walking like Rain

The song "Drops of Jupiter", by Train is the best song ever recorded/sung/written/heard. It is my favorite song, and I have been singing it in my head for about 10 years now it feels.
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This song speaks to me in so many different ways, it’s hard for me to think of ways it doesn’t reflect emotions or abstract and seemingly odd fleeting thoughts I’ve had. I particularly enjoy how it’s about this person, maybe his dream girl who went on a long journey and is now back, somehow changed, for the better it seems, but he absolutely missed her. This journey, this trip she went on was not one of choice, but rather of necessity, she needed to find herself, she needed to search for what is out there in the world, what she can give and show to others, because she is quite the giver. The writer is looking for a way for her to prove him right, that this trip wasn’t actually a necessity, that maybe it wasn’t all that great. But it was, god dammit it was. He’s worried that she’ll look at him like he’s inferior to her, that he never did make the leap like she did.

Although it doesn’t say it, I don’t think she feels that way. I think she loves him just the same. He doesn’t have to prove his love to her, she will know that it is there, despite having to leave and come back to find it again. She knows she is different, she seeks more from the world, always curious, and that he isn’t that way. And it is ok.

I can’t help but think about how this song transforms itself to mean something more than weird metaphors and about the lead singer’s dying mother. This song has helped me to see that it is ok for me to want more than the life I have in front of me. It is ok to leave people behind, because I have a right to go out and seek more from the world. I cannot love others the way they deserve until I can truly love myself. And If I have to put an ocean in between those people and myself until I figure it out, then so be it; see you when I get back

Although I cannot wait another day to leave, I am just as scared as the next person. I am terrified to leave my mother, to not be available 24/7 as I am now to my best friend. I am scared my luggage will get lost, I will spend way too much money, and that I over packed. I am so scared mostly, though, knowing that when that plane takes off and it’s wheels fold up and the plane ascends, that that moment will be the last time I am home while being the person I am.

I will change. I will grow. I will probably drink too much, stay out too late, kiss strangers, eat too much, fall on my face, take too many pictures, drink in every fucking moment around me, meet amazing people who become lifelong friends, cry out of pure happiness, learn to finally love myself, trace my way around the constellation, and get a little Jupiter stuck in my hair. While I don’t intend to change, it is inevitable. Never again will I be the person I am at this moment. I am now leaving for 4 months. I will not see Oreos or peanut butter or Wonderbread until May. I know my best friend, my mother, my bedroom, and my dog will still be there when I return, and frankly those are the only things I am concerned with. Because I don’t have as much to say goodbye to for this trip, it just makes me realize even further that this is my trip. I am going for myself and myself only. It also feels strange that for the first time in my life I do not have an obligation to follow rules or act in a particular way, and that I have absolutely no limitations to my experiences in Spain except that of my wallet and of time.

I know that I feel this freedom because of all of the changing and growing I have gone through in the last year, but it is also because listening to “Drops of Jupiter” has lifted me out of my dark place; it has shown me that I am not weak, that it is ok to be curious and to demand more from the world, the universe. This song is my warm, happy place. It is the song that speaks to me in a way that is very difficult to describe; it is my “soul song”, as I like to call it.

So now as my final preparations and panicked packing come to an end and while these few short days pass by, I only can remember the conversation I had with my mom while in the car on the way to the airport when I was leaving for Nicaragua. Weeks before the trip, I had acted so tough, so strong, saying things like “I can’t wait to get out of here”, “God, I need a break from this place”, etc. but the second I heard my mother’s voice on the phone in the car, I lost it. I sniffled away tears and I said to her, “Mom, I don’t want to go anymore. Can’t I just come home?” and she responded by saying, “No, Tara, you have to go. You have to do this and I will be here when you get back.” 

I felt freer knowing that I had to do this and that someone agreed. This time around, before I leave for Spain, I feel freedom knowing I never needed that validation in the first place.

And I know that despite being uncertain and having doubts, I will never be a plain ol' Jane who is too afraid to fly.