oliviaobryon

Heart-felt, folk-inspired songs are the soundtrack to my writing, my life.  Each familiar voice brings me back to a separate set of memories, gently guiding my writing beneath the layers of my subconscious.  Today, as often is the case, Pandora is set to “Lullaby” by the Dixie Chicks, conjuring a list of songs and memories that span my lifetime.

Norah Jones puts me on the big red Unitrans bus in college, evoking independence, that first real freedom.  Then, Sarah McLachlan transforms me into a fourteen year-old girl, sitting in the back of my mom’s old station wagon, driving up to the hills to see her boyfriend, her notes like open wounds, angry Nirvana blasting simultaneously through my headphones. Next, Joshua Radin draws in the San Francisco fog as I drive to my first apartment in the City, happy but alone. Finally, Lullaby by Dixie Chicks comes around, makes me want to cry, every time, dancing slowly together in our little Berkeley apartment, a ring on my finger, How long do you want to be loved?  Is forever enough?  

Sometimes, I forget to listen to music while I write.  I’m certain those days my writing lacks the same poignancy.