just musing

Here’s a song I wrote in 2017.  Although it’s not a good-quality song, I’m sharing it here anyway, since I’m aiming to be in touch with myself, as a writer, and also to share whatever that is “true” –inspired by Maurice Sendak’s words:”If it is true, you tell it”.

*warning: poor pronunciation and singing.

 

The Misplaced Piece of Myself

by Nayoung Jin

 

What’s the misplaced piece of yourself

you find impossible to get back?

Mine has something to do with the frogs and my little self nicknamed bookworm.

Or other times she would be called sloth by the other kids.

So, she was either bookworm, or sloth then.

Um-m, yes, she was.

 

Defending the frogs at the pond against these upper graders,

even though my voice was a bit weak, I still tried standing tall.

Then, having enough of their snickering attitude

I instead wrote some letters to

my school about those frogs. And dropped them in a mail slot.

 

Back then there wasn’t much fun in life

other than

this pond upon the hill,

and a miniscule game gadget

of ‘hatch your egg, then you get to raise your pet.’

And lastly a friend holding a tiny square paper

coloring it rainbow with her paints

then dropping a few lines there for me to read

which went just like this:

 

although other girls may not like you,

but I love you.

You’re my good friend.

Although other girls may not like you,

but I love you.

You’re my good friend.

 

Although other girls may not like you,

but I love you.

You’re my good friend.

m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m  m-m-m-m-m

 

Instrumental break – Harmonica solo

 

Then,

one Monday afternoon

from the speakers

in the classrooms,

BOOM,

flew out the principal’s voice

reading my 3 page-long letters

about why we shouldn’t throw stones at the frogs in our school pond.

Then this bit about who I am,

and also in what grade.

 

I,

a little surprised to hear about myself,

didn’t know what to think,

except to feel

bubbles of hope

slowly foaming inside me

 

that the frogs may be left alone

and can hop, hop in peace

now

 

and I can go back

to read

and look at all these plants.

 

What’s the misplaced piece of yourself

you find impossible to get back?

Mine has something to do with the frogs and this little one nicknamed bookworm.

Or other times she would be called sloth by the other kids.

So, she was either bookworm, or sloth then.

Um-m, yes, she was.

 

Defending the frogs at the pond against these upper graders,

even though my voice was a bit weak, I still tried standing tall.

Then, having enough of their snickering attitude,

I instead wrote some letters to

my school about those frogs. And dropped them in a mail slot.

 

-The metronome in the background is there to give this song an old “timey” feel.