Latest Podcast

Follow on Bloglovin

Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
That's What She Said
You can also find Monica's writing here:
Search The Girl Who
« On The Day You Were Born | Main | Thunder Pie »
Thursday
Apr092009

Bittersweet Symphony

Everyone has a song. At least one song. Some folks have several. I have different songs that play in my head at key moments. My bad ass song, the song that plays in my head when I'm walking down the street, or walking anywhere, really, is Bittersweet Symphony. It's my don't-fuck-with-me-song. Dude could try to mug me and I'd go all martial arts on him and shit. Even though I don't know martial arts. I have this mental image of myself as if from a video director's view that is not unlike the actual video The Verve made for the song. It is slow motion, of course. My silken locks (my hair is not silky) are blowing in the breeze all shampoo commercial-style as I stride importantly toward the non-existent camera.

Yesterday at the dog park I had a Bittersweet Symphony moment. Probably because it was actually playing in my iPod. I immediately slipped into my Bad Ass Mode. Striding, no floating, across the trail. Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life. I kick ass. I am awesome. Tryin' to make ends meet you're a slave to the money then you die. I give an elderly woman the stink eye as she ambles by me with her dog. Just because I can. I'm a million different people from one day to the next. That's right, fuck you too I think as an ornery looking Pit Bull trots by all high and mighty-like. I let the melody shine let it cleanse my mind I feel free now! Then I looked down. There's Violet, dangling awkwardly from the Bjorn, her binky dancing madly from the end of the ribbon I use to attach it to her. Mud from that goddamn Milo constantly shaking off next to me was sprayed across my legs like drunk puke.

Bittersweet, indeed.

I think I'd still manage to go martial arts on any interlopers. Maybe more so. Don't mess with a sleep deprived mother, especially one who also works full-time. She will tear the skin off your face and feed it to her dogs. With pleasure. Just ask my my husband