This is the life
things i love #7: songs that stick
Of course I love many things, and music has always been on that list – often because of what it is, but sometimes largely because of what it represents. Certain moments in time I can’t forget – won’t forget, and wouldn’t want to.
Landslide
I’m 14 and watching Glee, and for some reason Gwyneth Paltrow is hoarding most of the vocals in this Fleetwood Mac cover. But I don’t even consider being bothered by it because I’m watching the way Santana and Brittany are interacting with each other. I’m seeing the kind of love I too have been afraid of, so I see something of myself in their teary, affectionate eyes. I pull my blanket to my chin and breathe heavily. On the surface it might seem like this is overwhelming, but it’s actually exactly what I need.
I don’t know it at this point, but “Landslide” will come to mean many things to me. A future version of myself will listen to Stevie Nicks’ voice like she’s singing a prayer, still trying to get a handle on change and getting older. But along with everything that’s felt for my twenties, I’ll also remember my teenage self on a sofa, watching a Glee DVD and blinking back tears for two best friends confessing their feelings through song. I know music will become a crutch of mine too, allowing me to accept things I wouldn’t dare process without a melody. It turns out that just like “time makes you bolder”, songs do too. I’m grateful this is true.
Shut Up and Dance
I’m 17 and it’s summer and I’ve flown alone from London to Los Angeles to stay with internet friends and attend Vidcon, and my parents have been surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing despite other adults’ raised eyebrows. While others my age spend their money on driving lessons, I saved mine for this.
I feel a new sense of joy in Anaheim – not because it’s California and that means there’s sun and palm trees. Not even because it’s Vidcon, the event I’ve been looking forward to for months. It’s because I’m with friends and now I see their faces in front of me, I know I was right to believe everything I optimistically counted on. These people are good to me. They know my likes and dislikes and make fun of my messy backpack, my whining, my ability to lose things and my British accent – I’m accepted. I’m not used to feeling so seen and loved in friendship groups. Before coming here, I wasn't sure I even knew how to be part of one, convinced a trio might be my limit. But there are 5 of us filming videos in a hotel room together and there are others in the group chat. They’re bringing out this incredibly care-free side of me that’s never been known to such an extent. For so long, I’ve longed for this, to be part of something fulfilling and happy. We dance at Vidcon prom where a DJ plays “Shut Up and Dance”, but we also dance in the convention center’s hallways, and outside in Anaheim's warmth. Going from one place to another, I skip and jump and giggle, not realising I’m being filmed from a distance. I grab my friend’s hand and we spin until we’re dizzy.
Mel uses the Walk the Moon track for her Vidcon vlog on YouTube, when we’re all home and back to talking through screens. I lose count of how many times I watch everyone’s video compilations – partly because of my friends’ faces, yet also because my own joy and fun-loving attitude is shining in these camera clips. I see someone who's been lonely and never wants to feel that way again. Everything I feel towards Vidcon as a memory is seen to be true in my wide smile at the time it happened. I know I’ll forever associate “Shut Up and Dance” with 2015. With California. With a group of friends of different ages, from different places. And dancing – I tell my brain to shut up and I dance and dance and dance.
This Is The Life
I’m 24 and on a bus from Berlin to Warsaw – I’ve spent most of the week on a bus actually, volunteering on an English camp that’s a trip across Europe, and we’re driving further into the night’s darkness. Oh, and I have a crush on my coordinator M but I haven’t put that into words yet. There’s a staff party tonight and a debate about whether we should all go. I haven’t booked a hostel bed because I’m stingy and hoping I don’t need one. I’ve heard rumours the company-bought hotel rooms have big enough beds that staff will be generous to volunteers – everyone splitting off into rooms of their choosing, too intoxicated to care about personal space.
Music’s playing while Polish teens sleep at the back of the bus and Amy Macdonald’s lyric “where you gonna sleep tonight?” makes me laugh because where am I going to sleep tonight? Someone reassures me there’ll be room at the Warsaw hotel. And now M is lying across the chair next to me and my hands are reaching for hers. After all the teens are dropped off, we get to the party – I think it’s 2am – and everyone who didn’t have to travel across Europe this week and has been by the river since 9pm, is obviously already drunk. I leave my bags in a pile with other people’s despite my better judgement and somebody offers me beer so I drink it. I honestly despise beer but just this once, I choose to ignore that fact. M and I kiss and there are butterflies inside me – I can’t quite believe it’s happened.
At some point I go to get my backpack but… it’s not there with the others. It contained my laptop and passport which is what’s at the front of my hazy mind, and shit, I know in my gut it’s been stolen. Someone says she noticed some guys suspiciously leering earlier. I feel sick from a horrific sinking feeling, but butterflies are still alive and fluttering, because this doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been kissed. Kissed by someone who’s looking at me like I’m all she could ever want, and she’s desperately trying to find my bag even though we know it’s gone for good. M promises to stay with me and she has kind eyes that make me believe her. She orders us a taxi with an arm against my back.
We end up in one of the hotel rooms together – so this is where I’m going to sleep tonight – and my head’s spinning because my bag was stolen. I’m lying next to someone who’s captured my attention all week so I let her hold me and that’s new for me. I trust her. I think part of me knows this is a beginning – a new start to a life full of love I’ll get to treasure.
M doesn’t leave my side until I’m safely back in London some days later. We endure what’s surely one of history’s worst Flixbus journeys – a group of us getting stranded in Calais without luggage through no fault of our own. 40 hours after getting on that bus in Warsaw, we eventually set foot in London’s Victoria on no sleep, and it’s almost time for my best friend’s birthday drinks, which I’d promised to be back for. M’s friends had rescued our luggage from the bus that abandoned us, so I leave M with them in a hostel and get changed into a floral jumpsuit. I sip on city cocktails for my friend’s celebration, as if everything’s ordinary and I’m not in the midst of falling in love. As we reach the evening and people start to catch their trains home, I send a string of texts convincing M to come to a rooftop bar. She shows up nervously and now everything’s starlit. For me to feel so strongly towards the sight of her, she must be my person.
Music and butterflies make a promise, saying this certainly isn’t the end. Singing the songs, thinking this is the life. And I’ll wake up in the morning.
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This feels like memory set to music, the way certain songs become doorways you can walk through whenever you need to remember who you were. I love how each moment holds both innocence and courage, like you were always braver than you realized at the time. There’s so much tenderness in how you let joy, risk, and longing exist in the same breath. It makes loving songs feel like loving versions of yourself that still live inside you.
Waiiiittt obsessed with your love story budding with this is the life song! I want more story. Also, never heard of this is the life song but I’m listening to now and it is indeed sooo sweet and catchy love 💟