Quelqu’un m’a dit – Carla Bruni
Time is a son of a bitch. Sometimes there isn’t enough of it. Some days, you want to freeze moments in time or at least slow them down. Other days, there seems like there has been too much of it. Lately, I have been feeling more of the latter. Part of me wants to fast forward a few months from now, hoping that future me would have more of my shit together. Part of me is also hoping that the darkness of the last few days would be a distant memory for some loved ones going through some of the most messed up of things one could possibly experience in this life. I read this book once by Steve Martin, The Pleasure of My Company, where the main character talks about a coping mechanism he uses called Alternative Fixation. The concept of AF goes that if something is causing you needless worry or anxiety, think of something that stresses you out infinitely more. You might open Pandora’s box dealing with the bigger thing, but at least you stop stressing about the original thing. I have been using AF for almost 20 years now, and I can tell you it is pretty damn effective. So here we go –
So, it has been 6,057 days since I last heard my father’s voice. It was the day after New Years. He had a habit of calling and if you didn’t pick up, he would leave you this long-winded voicemail message. Then, he would call your work number and leave the same message. Call your work cell. Same crazy long message. After a while, I wouldn’t even listen to the messages. Seeing the missed call was enough reason to just call him back. Such was the case the day after New Years in ’09. We talked about what we did or didn’t do to reign in the New Year, and then he said he was sorry to hear about my recent breakup. He told me I was going to be okay. I deflected and we talked about family in Chicago. Then, we ended up fighting up something so dumb I can’t even remember what it was about, but he got frustrated and hung up on me. Two days later he had a heart attack. The next day I booked a flight to be with him, but while I was packing, I got the call he died. Four days later, I was getting ready for his memorial mass and I saw the pending voicemail message he left the week before. He wished me happy new year and brought up the breakup. As I started to rolled my eyes, annoyed that this time, I wouldn’t be able to deflect the conversation, he said these words – I just want you to be happy.
For anyone that knew my dad, you knew that towards the latter end of his life, he didn’t really believe happiness was in the cards. He believe it was more attainable to aim towards being content. The fact that this was his last message to me is so trippy. Hopefully, he is not too disappointed, since I am still figuring out what happiness to me looks like. In any case, it reminded me of a line in this French song from my favorite Joseph Gordon Levitt movie, 500 Days of Summer, that goes “I’m told that time that slips away is a bastard, that our sorrows are made into coats”. That is how time feels at the moment. It is a heavy ass freaking coat, and I cannot wait for when it is time to lay it down and enjoy lighter days. For those that want to hear and see in the original language, I included the French lyrics and English translation. Serait-ce possible alors?
I’m told our lives aren’t worth much
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand-chose
They pass away in an instant like roses fade
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
I’m told that the time that slips away is a bastard
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
That our sorrows are made into coats
Que de nos chagrins, il s’en fait des manteaux
Yet someone told me that you still loved me
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
It was someone who told me that you still loved me
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
They tell me that destiny doesn’t care about us
On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
That he gives us nothing and promises us everything
Qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout
It seems that happiness is within reach
Paraît que le bonheur est à portée de main
So we reach out and find ourselves crazy
Alors, on tend la main et on se retrouve fou
Yet someone told me that you still loved me
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
It was someone who told me that you still loved me
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
But who told me that you still loved me?
Mais qui est-ce qui m’a dit que toujours, tu m’aimais?
I don’t remember, it was late at night
Je ne me souviens plus, c’était tard dans la nuit
I still hear the voice, but I no longer see the features
J’entends encore la voix, mais je ne vois plus les traits
He loves you, it’s secret, don’t tell him I told you
Il vous aime, c’est secret, lui dites pas que je vous l’ai dit
See, someone told me you still loved me
Tu vois, quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Was someone really telling me that you still loved me
Me l’a-t-on vraiment dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
I’m told our lives aren’t worth much
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand-chose
They pass away in an instant like roses fade
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
I’m told that the time that slips away is a bastard
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
That our sadnesses are made into coats
Que de nos tristesses, il s’en fait des manteaux
Yet someone told me that you still loved me
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
It was someone who told me that you still loved me
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore
Would it be possible then?
Serait-ce possible alors?
If My Life Had a Soundtrack 