I Know That In A Thousand Years, I'd Fall In Love With You Again, This Is The Only Way That We Should Fly, This Is The Only Way To Go

--"More Than A Woman", The Bee Gees

Oh, girl I’ve known you very well
I’ve seen you growing everyday
I never really looked before
But now you take my breath away.

Suddenly you’re in my life
Part of everything I do
You got me working day and night
Just trying to keep a hold on you.

Here in your arms I found my paradise
My only chance for happiness
And if I lose you now I think I would die.

Oh say you’ll always be my baby
We can make it shine, we can take forever
Just a minute at a time.

More than a woman, more than a woman to me
More than a woman, more than a woman to me
More than a woman, oh, oh, oh.

There are stories old and true
Of people so in love like you and me
And I can see myself
Let history repeat itself.

Reflecting how I feel for you
Thinking about those people then
I know that in a thousand years
I’d fall in love with you again.

This is the only way that we should fly
This is the only way to go
And if I lose your love I know I would die.

Oh say you’ll always be my baby
We can make it shine, we can take forever
Just a minute at a time.

More than a woman, more than a woman to me
More than a woman, more than a woman to me
More than a woman, oh, oh, oh

This is a post I've been putting off for a very long time. When it comes to the reasons behind why my favorite song is my favorite I'm afraid I don't have the grand philosophy behind the words that Patrick's favorite song does for him. I honestly think it's a pretty song sung very prettily. Little 'ole me doesn't need any more convincing than that.

Yet I've listened to many tunes that could qualify by this benchmark. From Buckley to Valentine, Jones to Freeney, there are many artists who have crafted memorable songs that have touched me in some sort of permanent fashion. What then makes "More Than A Woman" so special to me then? Simple. It holds very sentimental value to me. No, no, no, it's nothing so saccharine sweet as being the first song I was kissed to, or being the first song I ever danced to, or even being the first song I ever found out my crush listened to. Those songs are memorable and all, but this was the first song that ever made me feel good singing. Aside from the fact the song was a misguided gift from my folks which makes it personal for me, it's also good because I love to sing the darn thing.

----

I was walking before school started one day. I was anxious from the moment I woke up in bed that morning. Normally, I'm not one to get nervous, but that day was different.

I was to be performing for the first time at school that day, his school, the unnamed boy's school. I'd only ever performed in my rinky-dink school and, of course, I had been something of a big fish in a small pond. Hell's bells, I was soemthing of a spotlight hog when it came to talent shows, public speaking, and generally anything that fell my way having to do with showing off in front of my friends. It was nothing like the paegents. I knew everybody. Everybody liked me. It was more like goofing off at home than anything resembling a pressure situation. I thrived at my old school.

This was not my old school, though. This was the new school. This was the high school. This was his school and I wanted to get him to notice me.

I thought a talent show was the perfect opportunity. I had successes before. There was no reason to think that my lucky streak shouldn't have continued. After all, I was six ways to boisterous (or so my much-embarrassed mother kept reminding me) and I was nothing if not talented. Two weeks prior, as the school year was just getting started, I had been the picture of composure and confidence. I was sure the unnamed boy would simply fall madly in love with me. He would ask me after the show if we could spend forever together and I had it all worked out. I'd be coy. Aloof even. I'd play it off like I had a thousand suitors beckoning me from offstage. "Give me a call, darling," I'd say, "and we'll try to meet up sometime." He'd smile. I'd smile. And we would end up spending the rest of our life together.

Because that's how perfect my life works out. Obviously.

However, that day I was a wreck. I had chosen to dust off an old favorite of my daddy's, "More Than A Woman" by The Bee Gees, because I had had hours of practice of singing it for my family and friends. I was comfortable with the song. More importantly, the song was comfortable with me. Sometimes when you're choosing songs to belt out, whether by yourself or in front of a crowd, certain songs just don't suit you. They are either too mature or immature, too outside your realm of experience, or too cloying for words. It's very important when you're singing, or doing anything you relish for that matter, you chooose something that seems natural on you. "You don't see a duck tightrope walking," my daddy always says and you don't see little 'ole me try to rap my way out of a Mexican standoff. "More Than A Woman" suits me, though. I've always thought it. Even before it became my favorite among favorites, people always told me that it looks good on me. Everyone has always said that from the very moment I picked up my first mic.

It was this comfortability that was to be my downfall for the simple God's honest truth is I'm no ace singer. I'm average, above-average perhaps. But it's not my gift. Dancing, I have a talent in. Writing, folks say I've attained some skill in. Singing, however, I had only been better than those around me at my junior high and elementary classes. High school was a different pool altogether, a whole new talent pool.

I didn't stand a chance.

"Morning," the unnamed boy surprised me with as I walking. No, it wasn't a coincidence I happened to take a walk by house even though it was a smidge out of my way. It wasn't miles, mind you, but a few blocks. Nope, it wasn't the shock of him interrupting my daydreams of him that startled me; it was more due to the fact that he was saying anything to me at all. I'd passed his house a hundred times if I passed it once in all the years and months I had a crush on him, and never had he looked up enough to notice I was walking by at all. Or if he did, he gave a courteous nod of acknowledgment and then went about his business. True, he didn't know my name, but the fact I ranked any sort of greeting was a step up in my book.

"Morning," I answered back. He was already in his school uniform. I, meanwhile, had yet to change out of my jogging clothes. I giggled at the intrusion.

"Nervous?" he asked, picking up the morning paper and putting his backpack into his car.

Who? Me? Just because in the last two sentences you've spoken to me you've reaffirmed my faith in goodness and justice and fairness and loveliness? Nah.

"That obvious, huh?"

"I'd be nervous too. It's a little strange to see a freshman perform a solo at the talent show," he said stoically. It was difficult to read if he, in fact, was rooting for me to succeed or fail. "You'd never catch me on that stage."

It was like a dream... and a nightmare. He knew who I was, but he also didn't know a thing about me. Give up? Back out? Was he actually advising me to cut my losses and run? Or was this all part of the apparation? I was nervous, yes. But that didn't mean I'd ever given retreating serious validation. I would sing. I would sing for him to show him I could do it.

"I think I'll be fine. Everyone gets nervous. Sometimes you just have to stand up, you know?" I said in passing, too nervous and too late to continue for much longer with the conversation. "See you at school?"

"Yeah. Break a leg," he said, walking back inside the house. "Who knows? I may even stand up," he laughed before closing the door.

I walked home that morning even more nervous for the fact I knew he was going to be watching me now. I had up until then thought he might catch my act. Perhaps give it a cursory show of interest. I hadn't counted on him actually singling me out for inspection. I could see him penciling me in his list of things to do that day--"#4. Watch the strange neighbor girl crash and burn on stage today."

All my thoughts were leaning towards that day being remembered as the day I committed social suicide.

----

Minutes before my turn onstage I honestly thought about quitting. I thought about all that they tell you about making a good first impression. I thought, there I was ready to put my best foot forward, except it wasn't my best. Nothing had left me with the impression that I was glorious as a singer--nothing except the uncultured opinions of children and family and friends who were inclined to like my attempts, be they the real meat of the matter or merely the gristle. I wanted to panic. I wanted to flee. I want to be a nobody at my new school. I honestly thought I wanted to be someone who fades into the woodwork. The good aspect of being somebody who doesn't take up too much room is that she doesn't fret too much about knocked off her post. No one bothers her. No one comes by to try and knock her down. She's content to know her place in the scheme of things. Only the people who aspire to something more, who strive to something greater than who they are, get targeted by the naysayers. "She's not all that," they say. "I could do better than her," they continue. I didn't want to be a target from day one. I didn't want people thinking mine was a world of vanity and presumptuousness. I wanted to be little 'ole me, little 'ole Breanne, who made friends easily. I wanted to be generally liked without having prove myself. In short, I wanted to be performing in front of the same small group of friends I'd always performed in front of.

I walked up to one of the teacher moderators to announce my resignation. It wasn't worth the chance at being humiliated, I convinced myself.

Here's the part in the story where normally I'd say I looked out into the audience and saw my cherished unnamed boy. He'd give me a smile and I would gain the confidence to walk out onto that stage. Well, I did scan the crowd and could not find him for the life of me.

"Miss I-Forget-Your-Name, I don't think I can do this. I want to be removed from the list."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes... no. I don't know. I'm just too nervous."

"Well, you've got about forty seconds to give me a decision, dear."

Forty seconds to decide my fate. This was one of the moments that I looked back on as a turning point that I didn't was to become so crucial later on life. I knew it would affect my first year maybe, but I do look back on that day as something that defined who I was as a person in many ways. People up until then had always said I lived in a fantasy world where if circumstances did not turn out in my favor I would opt to run away. I didn't like the situation with my mother at home--run away. I didn't like being in paegeants--give half my effort and complain the entire time. I lost my best friend--bitch and moan without really looking for a new one. As the song goes, I was getting really good at good-byes. Instead of alleviating the situation, I just made the situation go far away.

"I think I want to go on."

"Well, go on then."

I ended up stepping out on that stage in front of the packed auditorium. As the first few notes to my accompanying music came on I knew everyone could tell I was nervous. I even managed to weed out a few naysayers heckling among the crowd. But for the most part everyone gave me my shot. I didn't hit a homerun that day. I got through it as best I could, but as the show wore on I got an earful of what truly spectacular singing sounds like. That's when I knew I'd never have a voice like that. I was talented, sure, but I wasn't talented enough. Still, as I got to the middle of the song I started to get that old feeling back. Maybe it wasn't like singing in front of a group of my friends, but neither was it like singing in front of a group of strangers or a group of people out to get me. This was my school and as much as I always thought of it as "his" school, I started to see that I wasn't going to be judged for the rest of my life by this one day. I wasn't going to be held accountable for what I did this one day. They were all going to give me a chance. While it didn't completely calm my nerves, it allowed me to get through--even enjoy it.

I know that in a thousand years
I’d fall in love with you again.

This is the only way that we should fly
This is the only way to go

That was my only way to go because, above everything else, I'm a spotlight hog. I need the attention. I need to be liked.

I just don't like having to sacrifice my own style to do it.

And I did manage to catch the unnamed boy applauding me after I was done with my song. He didn't lead it off and there was no cheesy individual clapping all alone to eventually be joined by the whole crowd. He did it like it though.

He did end up standing up.

----

"More Than A Woman"
More than just a song to me...

Breanne