“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.” Bob Dylan received the Nobel Prize in Literature this past year. While many people responded with shock and awe, and his own reaction appeared to be more ambivalent, I was happy. I love his music and poetry, and even though I’m too young to be considered in his generation, much of his music spoke to me when coming of age as it did our parents. He is the first musician, ever, to receive the award. When Rolling Stone can catalog 100 of an artist’s “greatest” songs, that is a massive contribution to art.
My favorite song is one of his more critically acclaimed, but I love it even if that makes me not as cool. It’s not really a love song. At all. It’s wistful and disappointed. But NOT disappointing.
I also recommend this small sample if you are in need of an introduction:
Blowing in the Wind: made popular by the band Peter, Paul, and Mary, this sweet ballad may be one of his more popular songs. I’m including it because I feel obliged to do so. :o)
Simple Twist of Fate: is really so heart wrenching! If you look at the lyrics he tells the story of a seemingly perfect relationship that ended for reasons neither person can explain. Ugh. All the sad feels. One of the top songs to replay when feeling love worn.
Like a Rolling Stone: Yes. Just… Yes! And, yes, I’m obliged. Happy to do so…
Abandoned Love: super simple…. No chorus. With a lot of “ouch” in his punch. Kind of like how some break ups hit you… you know?
Well, good day and good night. I’m really excited. Not because my edits went well. They went okay. Not to mention the massive change my chair wants me to make – I cried to my mom and then took her directive to go have a glass of wine. I’m such the achiever I had two. But I literally did cry when I saw what he wanted me to change. It’s just part of the process even though the rewrite is massive and I don’t really agree. But — although the PhD dissertation is a massive undertaking and body of work made by me, I learned a while ago it is not at all about me in the eyes of my university and the process is political and bologna, but it’s the price of admission to the “doctor” club. And, I swear, if I hear one more person tell me that a PhD is “not a ‘real’ doctor” I might become physically violent. I’ve actually had men tell me that thinking I would find that endearing and agree to go on a date with them. Seriously, WTF does that???
So, today it’s my dissertation, Dylan, and me.
Who is your #MCM?