The Desire to Run Never Fades

This is a very personal post to me... I'm not a good poet; not when I'm talking about complicated matters, anyway. I'm not going to harm the name of poetry in an attempt to write this as one, as I was originally going to. I've got a flair for telling some things as they are, emotions included.

I'm sometimes a very depressive sort of girl. Maybe its the extra hormones recently being pumped into my body, too. I just tell people that I'm so happy all of the time that I can't physically get any happier - things which are meant to improve my mood have the opposite effect on me. In a way, it's true.

When I was young, I was fascinated by the thought of running away. I think I may have actually packed my bags a couple of times, hiding them in my cupboard so no one would realise my plan. There was actually no reason to get away; I was a pretty happy child. My plans would always fail, however: I could never stay awake long enough to sneak out.

I distinctly remember one specific night, however. I opened my eyes to see it was pitch black against the light pouring in from the streetlamp just outside. I turned my head to the side, and I knew instantly that if I was ever going to run away it would be now. I cuddled back into my quilt, thinking to myself 'Why?' before falling asleep again.

I had been very young then. It was after that that I started to realise how serious my desire to run was. It was probably Year 10 or 11, so I was approximately 15 - a perfectly conscious and responsible for my actions. I was acting strange, and I still had the imaginary friends of childhood at that age constantly talking to me. I remember the day quite clearly. It was the first day back to school after a two week holiday, and I just looked at my school things and realised I couldn't bare to go back to it. I couldn't bare the continuous lessons in their structured order, the monotonous drone of being trapped.

The 'cotton covered world'. I refered to it as that when I was running away from it. Nothing was hurting me, nothing was making any indent on my life. It never even rained when I was outside, I was certain. Life was 'too good', and I crumbled.

I put on my top under my school uniform. I packed my bag, not with school things but with clothes, money and a book. I went downstairs, practically shaking. I couldn't think, because I knew fine well that if I just paused and thought about it then I wouldn't go through with it. I couldn't even wait until the time I was meant to leave, making the excuse I wanted to buy some things before I got to school. Well, I did. I needed food for my journey.

My plan was to ride a train into Newcastle or Carlistle, knowing it would be easier to live in a city, and I'd be less likely to be caught. Unfortunately, my paranoia caught hold. I needed to avoid the train-station until school was over, and I needed to avoid the school and my Mum's work. I found a route directly between all of the places and went that way - towards the park. I didn't want to stop there, though, and wait for school to end. I needed to keep walking. I'd hit a city eventually, right? Or at least a town with a train station?

I think I took the worst route possible. Over six hours later I was still walking, practically in tears, as a car pulled up towards me. It was a man, and I'm not joking when I say I completely didn't care what he did to me. A part of me was even begging that he was some sort of murdering rapist. Turns out he was actually an ex-policeman, however, of all the ironies. He told me that he had just undergone three heart attacks, and now he had a new aspiration to help people. Pretty amazing. He took me to the police office, where they called my mum.

On the ride home, only a couple of minutes after we got in the van a huge blizzard began. "Look, you were almost in that." the policeman told me. Another irony. I was grateful, but only a few minutes ago I would have been wanting that.

I still can't look at the top I was wearing that day without thinking of what happened. It was stupid and selfish and I will never make the same mistake again.

But then I'm brought to the reason why I began to write this, and why I've named this blog 'The Desire to Run Never Fades'. It doesn't. About a month ago I had been out drinking - my first night getting drunk in a pub. So we decided to go to the park because none of us wanted to go home and no where but a night-club was open. There was me, my boyfriend, my best friend and her boyfriend. Karl was wondering about and the other two were in their own little world. I looked out across the field, suddenly realising I wanted to go. I didn't care how, I just wanted to get out of there. I started walking, slowly, across the grass away from them. It took them a little while for them to notice how far ahead I was getting, when they had to call me back. Even then, it took some will-power.

A couple of days ago I was in the metrocenter with my boyfriend again. We were walking around a very quiet area and we paused, just for a second, and I felt that same urge again as I watched the way out. I feel claustrophobic when surrounded by happiness.

The last two times have been down to two chemcials which are meant to make you happier; alcohol and sugar. It was pointed out to me that they often have the opposite effect. Happiness will kill me one of these days, but as long as I enjoy it that's fine by me.

Pretty. Odd.? Pretty Much....

I've been meaning to review this album, Panic at the Disco's 'Pretty. Odd.', for some time now and now I finally have the chance. I'm no music specialist - when it comes to music I'm usually actually tone deaf, but this album makes me feel like I should do this, if only to come to a conclusion of whether it's really good or really bad.

Firstly, I'd like to apologise for the highly unimaginative title. I think every review of this album ever made will probably have a name which is very similar to that (not that I've read any).

'Pretty. Odd.' is Panic's attempt at making a more fun, 'mature' album. You only had to skim the front covers of many music magazines, which is exactly what I did, to know that they were certainly happy about reforming and 'growing up'. Put into simple terms, this means that they were sick of the emo stereotype which they had gained from the last album and wanted to break out of it.

What exactly did this transformation include, then? Well, firstly and rather pointlessly you'll notice that the name has changed. They are no longer 'Panic! at the Disco', but they somehow misplaced their exclamation mark in their attempt to reach an older market. Because we all know that those over the age of 14 are allergic to exclamation marks...

The second thing I noticed - and these are all before you even put the CD on - is the titles. I remember a slight disappointment with turning over the CD case and not finding 'Insert some really long but vaguely witty name in here', but much shorter, more to the point names: the sort of names that you can associate with the songs. Admittedly, last time it was slightly annoying that I could never quiet remember which one was which between such classics as 'Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off' and 'The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage', but the names were all a part of the added fun. Fall Out Boy has managed to keep the names well, but that's because there are also many which have simple names so there are only a few to remember.

But now we finally get around to putting the CD in the machine. Brilliant. The first song is fun, but sounds a lot like 'Nine in the Afternoon', the single they released, filling me with dread that the whole album would be extremely 'same-y'. This is manageable, however, as the message it's singing has calmed another of my worries. Many 'Panic!' fans may have been worried that they are no longer the fun, slightly dark, fast-paced band they once were, especially when they released 'Nine in the Afternoon', a song that sounds a lot more like something The Feeling would have released. But, never fear! 'You don't have to worry 'cause we're still the same band', apparently. Hmmm....

Still, the song is actually quiet catchy for being a minute and a half long, and there's that sugary sweet 'We were busy writing songs for you' which is cheesy as hell but you can't help lap it up.

Then the album moves onto it's first single, the one that half-made you buy it and half- almost stopped you from buying it. This song would definitely seem out of place in the old album, and when you're in the queue you can't help wondering 'would I buy this is it wasn't Panic!?'. But I happen to be a big fan of The Feeling, so this didn't sway me too much. The title is one of those rare ones that makes you think for quite a while, wondering just how a nine in the afternoon is possible. I'm sure it is, I just haven't thought of it yet.

This is where the album starts getting worse, I'm afraid. From here, it turns into a recording jam of every type of genre available all put together. I worked out that the band seems to think harmonies = grown up music, and they exploit this as much as possible, especially now that you can hear two singers in almost every song.

Most of the lyrics in the songs don't really make too much sense, but instead of talking gibberish (Like 'Mad as Rabbits', it's last song) most of them give the false impression that they might make sense, and you keep searching for meanings to every line. There's always a vague plot, but it is vague.

There are a few gems in there that really work. 'Do You Know What I'm Seeing?' is a well composed song with some really nice lyrics, with it's only downfall is that those nice lyrics are repeated quiet a lot. It's a song that you can clearly see the video of, even though I'm pretty sure they haven't released it as a single: people will be holding up cardboard cut-outs of clouds and suns and dancing around with umbrellas in white suits. Listen to the song and you'll know what I'm on about.

I'll never know why they released That Green Gentlemen. It's a pretty average song. They probably only released it because it has the lyric 'Things are looking up to be Pretty. Odd.', and it generally fits the overall feeling of the album.

I'm also slightly confused why the worst part of this album seems to last the longest when it's less then half of the songs. When it starts to get better, it does work, particularly in my favourite song 'When the Day Met the Night'. This is possibly the only song on the album where the words can be read as a poem or a story and make perfect sense, and the story of the poor moon and the sun meeting and falling in love is sweet and the singing is perfectly in tune, even if I manage to ruin it by singing along. And, in the traditional Panic! way, they make the best use of instruments that you wouldn't necessarily see on stage.

The next song is just fun for the sake of fun, which is perfectly fine and puts a smile on your face. The band has managed to make you feel warm inside, then followed by a fun, dancey march which has a chorus that makes you want to punch the air for some reason. Ok, so it's slightly egotistical 'The greatest thing you'd ever imagine... imagine knowing me' but this can be excused because you're enjoying it too much to listen to the lyrics properly anyway.

I must be rambling, listing each of the songs, but this one particularly needs mentioning: 'The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know,' is two great songs. Not one. It's one mismatched, bizarre emotion rollercoaster of a song that just leaves you feeling deprived of both songs, which both tease you by sounding quiet good. Shame.

By now if you're listening you will have worked out that this is just a jumble sale of lots of different, traditionally older and harmonious songs which, as good as a lot of them are, don't fit together and quiet often miss the mark altogether. 'Behind the Sea' is a breather song as you wait patiently for the next one, but then to find there's now a folk song, aptly named 'Folkin' Around'. Despite appearances, it's probably one of the best songs on the album. Fun, fast and catchy. Also, unlike most, you can sing along to it easily.

Leading on to my friend's favourite song, 'She had the World'; it has a very similar feeling to 'When the Moon Met the Sun', instead following a spoilt brat. I have to admit, the lyric I don't love you, I'm just passing the time hits the spot right. Unfortunately, they're obviously not used to this old, carnival style they've tried to use and a lot of the words don't fit the spaces right and they sound... fumbly. This song, even though its good, is a good example of how they fail sometimes simply because they're trying to many things at the same time.

The album has got better and better. It even seems to sound slightly more like old Panic! in the lyrics to 'From a Mountian in the Middle of the Cabins', a song that also seems to have very little to do with the song. Unfortunately, there's no way you could mistake this style with the old one. 'Mad as Rabbits' seems to be more like the old style with the singer's speed of singing, but it's still too... childish. It's ironic that panic's 'grown up' album sounds a lot more childish then the other.

And that's the album over. The ending is like reading Harry Potter; you started it because it was meant to be good. As the books progressed, you found yourself ageing so they appeared to be getting younger and younger. There were parts where you hated it, only pushing yourself forward because you felt you should finish what you'd started and then, as soon as it was starting to get good and you were starting to like them, it all ended in a anti-climax.

Everytime I think of this album, I think of it as alright, nothing special. But every time I listen to it I'm impressed and fall in love with it again, even if it is majorly flawed.

I'm a loyal Panic! at the Disco fan. I'm wearing their t-shirt now, displaying the exclamation mark with pride. I like Panic at the Disco but I'm glad that my computer doesn't recognise them as the same band, because despite what they promised, they just aren't. If you're in the mood to listen to Pretty. Odd., follow it by The Feeling or Will Young or The Zutons. If you're in the mood to listen to A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, listen to Fall Out Boy or My Chemical Romance or maybe even Linkin Park. See the difference?

Lucky I love them both.

It's Been A While...

My last post was in May, and it's now July, so I admit that it's been a little while since I've blogged. I have no more exams and now I can only hope and pray that I've got everything all sorted. I'm still going out with my boyfriend, so that's 4/9 months of being half of a happy couple (we can never agree which date to take it from). I have a steady Saturday job, though I'm currently trying to get another job as I need more money and they have no more work to offer me.

All in all, life is going quiet well.

I was talking to my friend the other day, and she told me 'It's so strange! I feel married!'. I knew exactly what she meant. She and her boyfriend have been going out for four months, the same period of time as me and my boyfriend's most recent joining. So technically we've been going out longer then them, and we're different sorts of 'couples' but I still understand.

I'm barely away from Karl, generally spending more time at his house then my own, with the constant paranoia that I'm intruding on his life and taking all his food, which is ironic as I usually refuse food, especially at his house.

I never seem to have time to do basic things like simply staying at home and listening to music in my room, and we've almost lost the ability to do that now. "I don't know how I managed to stay indoors all day," he told me at only about four o'clock one day. I used to spend hours on end just typing away my story or reading or just doing absolutely nothing, but now I miss him if I'm doing nothing for over an hour. It's a strange feeling; I miss him, but I don't always want him. I've got to admit sometimes I feel like just refusing to see him, just so I can remember who 'Dani' is, and not just 'Dani and Karl'. I never do refuse to see him, though, because I can't resist and even if I did I know he's a stubborn fool. Bless.

Today I am spending a 'me' day, though. Which is why after two long months I can finally get back to this blog. I'm only managing today because he's at work, however, at the convenient time of two until nine. I'm sure he doesn't consider it convenient, however.

He'll come home from work, having slaved away at that awful place McDonald's for too little money, ever striving for that stupid promotion they've been hanging over him like a carrot since the day he got there. He'll get on the train, possibly phone me, possibly asking if I want to come to his house. How can I refuse, when I really actually do want to go? I'd go, sleep, comfort, and we'd practically be married. The tiredness, money troubles, stress but overall comfort and warmth all included.

I think I could live with that.