“It’s 16 miles 
To the promised land 
And I promise you 
I’m doin’ the best I can” 

Oh, I miss you, Rilo Kiley, what with your fantastic auxiliary choices and early acoustic strumming patterns, and literary lyrical qualities that somehow defy all potential pretension. So much to love about this particular song, with the group vocals and xylophone and the straight up, put-up-or-shut-up call to action. I wonder what it would feel like to write an honest song again, but I do not think I know how. I’m pretty sure I only did once (it was pretty cool, though,another post for another day).

It’s mind-boggling, really, how I can recognize honesty almost everywhere around me, in what I see and hear and read and observe, but am still relatively incapable of finding it in myself. It had to have been there once, I remember figuring it out. Like in my grandparents’ living room during the overheard conversations about the shortfalls of my relatives, conversations where a little me served as audience, a third-party listener hearing the playbook of what I must do to live a successful life. And then, during heart-to-hearts in dance class, I learned to put words to what I wanted, sitting on the cold church floor picking at runs in pink tights, anxious and awkward-limbed while digging for ways to describe what it was I danced for…surely I knew what it was to be honest with myself then?

Maybe it’s mid 20s-existentialism or maybe I’m just letting haters get the best of me, but some days I wake up with an unshakable guilt, like any second the proverbial “they” will bust down my door to tell me to get out of this life, that “they” were wrong and that there’s someone in line who has her shit much more together than I who deserves this chance.

One thing I can be honest about though: Dreams are better shared. That is, at least, a comfort.

“And some days,
They last longer than others
But this day by the lake went too fast
And if you want me, you better speak up,
I won’t wait
So you better move fast”
~With Arms Outstretched
Rilo Kiley, The Execution of All Things