This songs matters to me, because: (your explanation here)

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Wow, Diabeetus, that was powerful stuff. I can recall meeting a co-worker in college who turned out to be one of my best friends, and him telling me about being gay. I asked him when he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was gay. Without missing a beat, he looked at me and said, "About the same time you figured out you were straight." His answer hit me like a ton of bricks, and built the foundation to a friendship that is going strong nearly 10 years later.

With that being said, here's my song/story.

I was a junior in high school, and I had two tickets to a Tim McGraw concert. Being too shy to really do anything with the extra ticket, I assumed I'd just go alone and just meet up with my friends and their dates. The day before the concert, a girl in my journalism class, Nicole, asked me what I was doing that weekend. Her question shocked the hell out of me, since the only reason I was within talking distance to this girl was because we were seated in alphabetical order.

She was, until that point, the most naturally beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and her beauty was no secret. She'd been voted class favorite every year and was off-and-on with some kid on the football team. Meanwhile, I was the kid who sat in the back and hoped not to get noticed because I didn't think I had much to say.

When I told her I had two tickets to a concert and no one to go with, she casually replied that she had no plans, and she would go with me if no one else wanted the ticket. Needless to say, no one else was told about the ticket. When I showed up with her on my arm, heads turned. We spent the night talking and dancing, and during the song "Everywhere" she turned to me and told me I'd make some girl really lucky one day.

It was the best compliment, and ego-boost, I've ever received. So, when I hear that song on the radio, I can't help but think of that one night when everything seemed perfect.

My story is nowhere as deep or significant as the others posted here, but it's mine. And, I'm thankful.
 
I'd just like to reiterate what's been said many times, this thread is amazing. I'm excited every time I see it's been pushed back to the top with a new story. I just got done reading both of 'Beetus' stories and I thank you so much for sharing those beautiful tales.
 
If stories were all the same, they'd be boring. You had a really good one, too millsey. Don't knock yourself :D
 
I just want to repeat what everyone else has said... some tremendous stories here, thank you for sharing.
 
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I've really hesitated about posting this story because I'm about to do something I swore I would never do on here. However, this story can't be told without my doing so.

When I was in my early high school days, Fleetwood Mac's Go Your Own Way was one of the key songs I really dug from Fleetwood Mac. At the time, I was only slightly aware of the huge back story that was Fleetwood Mac. All I knew was that I was captivated by Stevie Nicks and that I loved this song that wasn't one Stevie sang.

As I got more into the story behind Fleetwood Mac, I started backing away from this song. I was one of those fanboy looser fans and anything that was negative toward Stevie was verboten. That state lasted for years until I gradually evolved into more of an objective fan. I still considered (and consider) her my world as far as music is concerned, but I also see faults and am not afraid to point them out.

One of the things that helped that transition was meeting one of my karaoke friends. It turned out that this song was his all time favorite Fleetwood Mac tune. He asked me to sing it one night, so I put it in and sang it, even though it was hardly a song I wanted a whole lot to do with it. However, I was singing it, and I would do my best to do the song justice. I don't know if I actually sang it even slightly on key, but at least he liked the spirit with which I sang the song.

I sang the song from time to time when I'd see him, but a funny thing started happening. A song that I'd written off for years started to grow on me again. Pretty soon, it would become one of my key karaoke numbers. It was the song I didn't sing every week because I didn't want to put forth anything less than maximum intensity into the song. I've had people join me on stage to play air guitar while singing this song, people hop up and down on one foot playing air guitar near the stage and even one woman who came up to sing the Stevie Nicks harmonies on it.

Unfortunately, for some people who know me, the song also took on another meaning. My relationship with my mother, as I've said before, is pretty much non-existent. Suffice to say, a lot of negative things have happened that I'm still unprepared to forgive her for, and there are a lot of things I did that she's unwilling to let go. Thus, we haven't spoken in five years. One year, I was determined to dedicate this song to her for her birthday. The opening lines would say it all: "Loving you isn't the right thing to do."

But I didn't intend this to be a negative post where I bashed my mother nine ways to Sunday. The more personal aspect of this song for me happened -- you guessed it -- one night at karaoke. A friend of mine named Josh and I saw each other periodically over the years at karaoke, and one of the things that struck me was how quickly he took an interest in my well-being. I can still remember one New Year's party during which I blacked out because I had too much to drink. He all but hovered over me to make sure I was all right and that I'd get home safely.

One night, it turned out that it would be the last night I'd see him. The night was coming to an end and he came over to my spot at the bar. We started up a conversation and he said he had a question. He then turned to me and asked me the question I was dreading: "Are you gay?"

All the swirling emotions that simple three word question can unleash came flooding out in the heartbeats that intervened between his question and my response. Thoughts -- from concern about how he'd react to my answer to feeling like there was nothing to be gained by lying -- rushed through my head faster than I could process them all. Steeling myself for the worst but hoping for the best, I answered him directly. "Yeah." One of the thoughts that crossed my mind in that time was concern -- because I thought he was cute. That concern was because I thought he might have picked up on that and that was why he asked.

The next two words told me that any fears weren't needed: "That's cool." He also told me about times he went to gay clubs and felt no pressure there. He told me he suspected I was gay from almost the very beginning; in fact, he was sure of it. The fact that now knowing was no big deal was probably the best news of that night. Now the feeling that dominated the air wasn't fear, concern, worry, or anything else. It was relief, joy, happiness. A spectre that held us at arm's length slithered away like a defeated foe.

There was so much more to talk about now, and for the first time since before karaoke became a hobby, I did not want to go on stage to sing when it was my turn. However, I went up to that stage anyway, now bemused because of what I considered the irony of my song choice: Go Your Own Way. This time, it was not the tell off song that would confirm my disdain for my mother or my way of saying goodbye to a lover who spurned me. This time, it was simply a goodbye to a man whom I considered a particularly good friend.

I don't know if anyone else got the irony behind the song, but after I started singing it, Josh joined me on stage. Before long, another longtime karaoke friend suddenly started bounding up and down mimicking a trademark move I make. Soon, my other friend joined me on stage. When the song finally ended, another guy was called to sing the last song of the night. When he stepped up to the microphone, he said "encore, encore!"

As the bar closed, Josh and I said our goodbyes. He hugged me -- and, I thought this was the best part -- he leaned his forehead onto my left shoulder. It was a brief gesture that spoke volumes more than the song itself could have.

So there you have it.
 
I said this before on another thread -- or it might have been this one; who knows? -- but I never get tired of reading these personal stories. Not only do you learn about the people you talk with regularly, but it's such great writing, you don't know how much time you've actually invested -- and you don't care.
 
F_T, knowing how unsure you were about coming out on the main board, I'm amazed by the story, both because of your words and because I think I know how difficult it was for you to post it.
 
FT-

I know you were having a tough time deciding, but I know you made the right decision. You'd think that as someone anonymous on a message board, it'd be easy to do, but it's really damn difficult. And with something so complex, it just makes the decision even more difficult.

Congrats on having the courage to do so and for providing yet another wonderful story for us.
 
It might have been said before, but I love this thread because it puts true emotion behind anonymous message board names. I feel like I'm talking with new friends, sharing experiences and feelings because we all know it's a safe place. Simply awesome.
 
I, too, had some reservation about sharing a story, but here it is.


Each year in college, I tried something new. It didn't matter how good I thought I would be at it, I just wanted to try it.

Freshman year, I tried stand-up comedy. I opened up for the college's improvisation group and I got a decent amount of laughs. I stood in front of 250 people and tried to help them laugh off their bad day, bad test or just for laughing's sake.

Sophomore year, I joined the student radio station. I had an idea of hosting my own show, but sports called me. I eventually became a play-by-play announcer for women's basketball and baseball games before my junior year when other things took over my life.

My junior year, I tried something brought up to me by a friend I knew since freshman year. He was a large black man named Ken and he belonged to a hip-hop group. He ran the hip-hop show which I co-hosted that one time that I told the story about, with the catch phrase, “If we're not banging beats, then we're banging your girl.”

He knew I had a knack for poetry, so he wondered out loud if I could put my poetry behind a rap beat.

Me, a rapper?

Little cornbread, cross-country running me. A guy who thought about it at times, but never actually took action.

Hell, why not. I needed to try something new, so I took up rapping. I began writing new lyrics and slowly put together my first album. Sixteen songs, out of which 10 were just me and the rest features.

I only let a few people hear it, but it spread around my dorm and campus like wildfire. I sucked really, really bad. Imagine a drunk Carl Lewis singing the National Anthem, meeting Stuttering Stanley, while both are having a continuous orgasm. I had no rhythm and couldn't flow on a beat.

I was an RA at the time at my college and well, my supervisors didn't like hearing that I rapped. They didn't like me from the beginning, partly because I didn't fit the “RA” mold they wanted. Secondly, I think it had to do something with me hooking up with a girl from my floor and then three other female Resident Assistants.

They brought me into the office and told me I had two options. First, I could sign my letter of resignation right on the spot and be done with it. Secondly, I could let them try to persecute me in the Judicial Affairs office. It wasn't worth being kicked out of the dorms, so I signed my letter and left.

Fast forward to my senior year. I practiced a lot more and slowly developed my own signature flow. Ken could tell whenever I came on a song and he started to nod his head when I spit. It was a big difference from the cringing he did when he first heard me.

Well, my cross-country teammates were putting together a band for a party, and I got involved. I wanted to do one song and we did a rap/rock cover of “Get Low” by Lil Jon and the East Side Boys.

When I gripped the microphone, I could feel all the emotion and energy pouring out of my body. I flowed over the beat and brought the crowd to their feet. Well, it was a party, so you get the point.

That was earlier in the year, so I decided to put together another CD. This time, it would be a mixtape, with only two songs being just me and the other 13 features.

I was sent a beat by a person I met through a mutual friend. He wanted me to rap over the second verse and bring my “A” game because he could probably get it on the radio if it was good enough. So I sat down and I wrote and wrote and wrote.

I crossed out lines I thought were stupid. I put in lines I thought would make people laugh. I put in lines I thought people might get up-in-arms over.

So it took me a few takes, but it came to the point where I felt I put everything I had into that one song. Still, in the back of my mind, everyone's comments resounded through. “You suck, why do you even rap.” “I've heard handicapped people rap better than you.” Etc, etc.

Two weeks later, the guy who originated the song sent me a link. It was to a radio station in Phoenix. He said to listen around 7 PM my time. I tuned in. Sure enough, I heard the refrains of “Oh No” pouring through my computer speakers. It sounded crisp, clean and a smile poured over my face.

Two days later, the same guy sent me a link to a radio station in California. It was a pretty big radio station in So Cal, so I thought it was a joke. Sure enough, midway through the night shift, our song blared through the speakers and I just began nodding my head.

Not just because I liked the way the song sounded. Not just because it was getting radio play.

I nodded my head because it was my way of telling all of those people who doubted (or continue to doubt) me, to keep fueling my fire. Keep sparking the kindling and soon enough, it's going to ignite.

Not just in my rapping, but in my life. You drive me to get better and you make it so easy to enjoy it when I climb on top.
 
I just wanted to express my thanks publicly to all the people who have shown their support for me after my post about "Go Your Own Way." I'll also do so in PMs.

It means the world to me that something I was so worried about doing has been such a positive. I finally feel like I can be myself on here.

Once again, I am in awe of this thread and the people who post on it, and the ones who read it. Thanks again.
 
forever_town said:
I just wanted to express my thanks publicly to all the people who have shown their support for me after my post about "Go Your Own Way." I'll also do so in PMs.

It means the world to me that something I was so worried about doing has been such a positive. I finally feel like I can be myself on here.

Once again, I am in awe of this thread and the people who post on it, and the ones who read it. Thanks again.

It takes a very strong personality to be able to put yourself out there in a public forum. Thanks for sharing the story.
 
"Wild Night" by Van Morrison. It brings back my best memory of reading this cool book as a 3rd grader in front of the old AM radio.

"Imagine" by Lennon. One of the best messages I have ever heard in a song. I wish he was still living.
 
Any of the "personal" threads on this site have been outstanding, including the meaningful sporting event threads, the stories about you and your old man bonding at a ball game. Or the first date hockey game that was better than a disaster. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes this thread so special — and why the voting for thread of the year might be awful easy come December.

Here's the thing about my next tune: As a rule I do not like country. It always came off too whiny and insincere for me. Of course, when all you hear at the senior (high school) graduation is Garth Brooks and Billy Ray Cyrus those thoughts are somewhat valid.

So I've spent the majority of my career in the American West and let some of the twang infiltrate my consciousness. My first job was in rural Nevada and "my" place was a bar and grill where boots and Wranglers were the rule. A five-spot in the juke box for all the non-country they had would effectively clear the place. From there I went to suburban Texas and successfully staved off the country bug again, but a co-worker introduced me to Robert Earl Keen and Lyle Lovett over cases of Shiner Bock and I softened my stance somewhat.

The next gig was out in the sticks again and I loaded up the moving van and went. About four hours into the drive across a black landscape I left another radio station behind. I hit "seek" and it stopped on a country station. I hit "seek" a couple more times but it came back to this one damned station. The last time it hit the country station I heard these women singing and I listened for a bit:

"Wide open spaces/Room to make a few mistakes/New faces..."

Laugh all you want but that's what I've been about since graduating from college. Part of it is just a nomadic nature and part of it is still figuring out where I belong, but the Dixie Chicks' Wide Open Spaces speaks to me and sums up what drives me. It also nicely elucidates what I like about the West — there's a lot of room, a lot of sky. It's a sense of endless possibilities that I just can't get from the Midwest or East, the two places where I spent my first 22 years on this earth. The compass always is pointed West and if anyone ever asks why, I refer to the Chicks.
 

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