Death by Rock and Roll

But on my tombstone when I go
Just put “Death by Rock and Roll”

My morning found me awake just before six, showered and dressed in my comfy before work clothes, paying bills and putting in my grocery order – I was done by eight, and getting ready for my work day.

It was a quiet Friday, and I accomplished most of my to-do list, and when Sophia text me for company at 430pm I was ready to oblige. I picked up my grocery order, put it away, and settling on my standard Rock station, headed out for a visit.

It’s a forty-five minute drive each way, and as I was leaving my house, the new Pretty Reckless song came on. I’ve listened to it once, and absolutely loved it – I’m a huge fan of the band. Taylor Momsen has a helluva voice, and the whole sound is one I can really identify with – it seems to mix all of the genres I love, with the focus obviously on rock.

The song, in case you didn’t glean that from the title, is Death by Rock and Roll.

Oliver text me a few days ago and said, ” Death by rock and roll by The Pretty Reckless is such a mood.” I agreed whole heartedly with him, even having just heard it the one time. I have been concentrating on specific bands and albums, and not so much on newly released music.

Today as I headed out of town though, I was feeling it. I stuck it on repeat, and listened to it all the way out to Sophia’s, and then the majority of my drive home.

The song is pretty grim, talking of drug use and harrowing deaths. But I get it on a different level.

I don’t want to just exist.

I can’t just sit by and let life happen. I can’t just wait for shit to fall into my lap. I can’t go to work, and go home, and be content with that. I need to do and see and feel. “I wanna go with balls, I won’t pray. . .”

I want to live life to the point of tears.

I want to go to concerts and cry and sing and scream, I want to be deaf by the end of the night and maybe a little drunk. I want to dig my hands into the dirt and not be afraid of breaking a nail or afraid of a bug or how dirty I’m going to be by the end of the process of planting or weeding or watering. I want to love with every inch of my soul and to hell with the consequences that may bring. I want to laugh at stupid jokes until I can’t breathe, I want to sit in the sun and feel the warmth of it’s rays, I want to feel a spring rain and fuck it if I don’t have an umbrella. I want to drive through the night with the wind whipping my hair, air cold on my skin, following the big, bright orange moon and fall in love with its glow like I did tonight.

I can’t just sit back and watch life unfold and not relish every single moment of it. I refuse. There’s too much to love, there’s too much to do and too much to experience. I can’t be cold and indifferent, I can’t be melancholy because life has often dealt me kind of shitty cards. I will chase the thrill of feeling everything, even if it may result in a hangover or heartbreak. And I certainly am not going to sit by and not make a difference. I’m not going to sit by and not see just how far I can get, and by the fastest means possible.

Maybe that life is for other people, but it’s not for me. Our lives are too short to ‘wait and see.’ We are given this one life, to do with it what we will. I have found a wonderful balance of responsibility and fun. I am moving mine and my children’s lives forward, and making memories while I do it.

So I’ll go to my concerts and stand too close to the speakers, and I’ll drive just a little too fast between point A and point B. I’ll work my ass off and not sleep enough, and drink with my friends and have movie nights with my kids and teach them how to love life just as much as I do.

Because I can’t fathom just existing.

And on my tombstone when I go, just put death by rock and roll. . .