My Heart’s Split
It happens every now and then. I put my iPod on shuffle and it plays the songs that I didn’t know I needed to hear. I was walking across campus through a light fog that blurred everyone’s face. Even though we had no idea if we knew one another we all said, “Hi.” The shuffle was background music as I passed by the Student Center and the chatter of the late night procrastinators bounced off the walls, but soon Josh Ritter’s voice found his way through the noise. The chirping of the crickets set the tempo and the wind danced across my neck, tickling my skin and rustling my golden arm hairs. This place, this wild, offbeat, certainly unique place is starting to feel a little like home.
LAC swept me off my size five feet the moment I dumped my bags in my dorm room. Orientations, the work, the parties, have all dominated my two weeks here that I barely had a moment to call my family. I’ve spoken to Mamajay a few times, and called Dean to thank her for the package (the first package I’ve ever gotten in the mail!) but our conversation was brief. Many of my Denisemates call their parents once or twice a day, claiming that they miss them. I don’t doubt that I miss my family but that ache doesn’t hit me until I’m on my way back. When I came home after a month of being away this summer, sitting in the terminal waiting for my moms to pick me up was unbearable. As I twirled the strings of my sweatshirt around my fingers the fact that I hadn’t seen them or my siblings in nearly five weeks pushed against my head and I started to cry.
Sometimes though I’ll be furiously underlining my history book or organizing my drawers when an image of home invades my mind, forcing me to sit on my bed and remember the people who have loved me for my eighteen years. I’ll suddenly hear the inaudible nonsense of my baby niece as she tries to carry on conversations with me, the sound of my sister’s hyena-like laugh that ended most of my summer nights when I’d curl up in bed with her, and then there’s the softness of Mamajay’s hugs that could soothe out any teenage problem I was having.
I suppose I’m beginning to have two homes. If I had to choose though, I’d be sitting on my porch right now, watching my niece catch fireflies while Mamajay gently clicks away on her keyboard.
An email exchange between me and Brian:
From: Kait Kerrigan
Sent: Tuesday, September 11, 2007 7:21 PM
To: Brian Lowdermilk
Subject: For later: My Heart’s Split
It happens every now and then.
I hear the words I needed to hear.
Coming from the tiny speakers
That I’ve shoved into my ears.
The crickets setting the tempo.
The wind dancing ‘cross my skin.
Reminding me of conversations,
Summer nights when I stayed in.
Back home, before I moved.
Back home, before I got here.
Back home with the people who loved me
my eighteen years.
My heart is split
between home and here.
This was a very first shot at it. I wanted to just jot down what was in my head before I put it away and went back to work. The chorus being based around My heart is split but I’m not sure where it goes from there. This would be verses and pre-chorus. Not necessarily very good or the right tone. I just wanted to get it down and have it. Now we have it. We can do with it what we will later. On a different day.
—————-
From: Brian Lowdermilk
Sent: Wednesday, September 12, 2007 2:28 AM
To: Kait Kerrigan
Subject: RE: For later: My Heart’s Split
Very cool. ultimately, should things like this, first drafts of lyrics, make their way onto our blog?
B
—————-
From: Kait Kerrigan
Sent: Wednesday, September 12, 2007 9:00 AM
To: Brian Lowdermilk
Subject: RE: For later: My Heart’s Split
Hm. Good question. I’d be disinclined to put this one up because it feels too far away from the tone I actually wanted to capture… But if it felt closer, then yes. My only fear, actually, is in the bloggers reading something that doesn’t look like the right tone yet. Like this feels square and unpoetic to me and it’s because I’m still trying to learn how to take someone else’s words – verbatim to some degree – and put them into lyrics. This one goes too far. And it sounds a little country instead of a little folky…
But I think once I get the hang of it, the answer would be yes.
k
—————
From: Kait Kerrigan
Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2007 11:25:50
To: Brian Lowdermilk
Subject: FW: For later: My Heart’s Split
Should I put this whole exchange up on the blog?? I kind of think I should.
—————-
From: Brian Lowdermilk
Sent: Wednesday, September 13, 2007 1:58 PM
To: Kait Kerrigan
Subject: RE: For later: My Heart’s Split
Do it.
hey, i set the lyrics you posted to music. i’m trying to figure out how to upload it without losing the “welcome” audioblog on the front page. we’ll see how i do…
Dear Brian and Kait,
I love this song so far. It’s so real and it feels like it’s in the voice of and 18-year-old who is feeling a million things . . . all at once . . .and talking about it out loud, trying to sort it out and the music that you’ve set it to sets a dreamy, love-filled picture. . . it’s full of longing. Full of hope, full of both . . .well done. I can’t wait to hear more.
My heart was spilling over with tears and memories as I was listening. I remember when I felt just this way. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Kiara
Yah, it made me call home for the first time in almost a week.
It made me cry. ..but then the kids always say that I’m a “sap” and my kidneys are too close my eyeballs…..I miss little Christine Coke……