Thursday, March 2, 2017

#obsessed: Green Light — Lorde

Today was an emotionally intense day. I got home after class ended early. My cohabitants have finally washed the dishes in the sink, and I am fueled by caffeine and fast food. The fire alarm started blaring for the third time in a month, and is still going off intermittently; I didn't bother to leave. Classes are kicking my butt, but I'm simultaneously loving life. I'm taking five upper division classes, with essay assignments for all of them. Whereas in lower divs I could coast through with moderate effort, every single assignment now requires substantial, clear, deliberate thought and sharp analysis. This semester is the tipping point — every day a knife edge — honing my ambition and forging my mettle. It is the Glory and Gore, equal parts wordplay and swordplay, as I fight to keep up mentally and physically. At times, I feel as though I've bitten off more than I can chew. But I'm handling it. I have a set schedule, I've established a self care regimen, and I've optimized my time as much as I can, even if I'm not 100% there yet.

Just as I start to feel beat down, after three years, she's has returned — the queen, the goddess, the one and only Lorde. My skin is clear, I am alive again, my motivation is restored. "Green Light" is a triumphant comeback, with an intense, frenetic energy to it. It is exactly what I need right now, given that this entire semester has been quite intense and frenetic. There's a feeling that something has changed, that life is somehow more perilous, more real.

This Mic article references one of Lorde's Facebook posts, where she describes the new album as a step away from "enshrining our teenage glory." It's a completely different tone from the muted depression in Pure Heroine; this single sounds much more mature, a reflection of "her first year of independent adult living." I think it's quite fitting with the timeline of my life, given that she's little more than a year older than me. I, too, am reveling in those last dregs of irreverent teenhood, as I embrace the challenges and joys of my own transition into "independent adult living."

It's a breakup song, singing about "brand new sounds in my mind." Opportunities abound, am I capable enough to seize them? Metaphorically, I'm at a point in life where I'm ready to break up with my doubts, my insecurities, things about who I was that I didn't like. I've done as much as I can to prepare; I'm revved up and ready to go —
"I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it."

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