Frankie Knows Best.

Shame Cone.

I was 15 when I first discovered Frank Turner.

I was scrolling through a BBC radio list and the song Photosynthesis was on it, we had the same last name so I checked it out.

A few minutes later I went to Facebook and updated my status to,

And I won't sit down
And I won't shut up

A few hours later my older brother saw this and accused me of copying him, he had also just discovered Frank Turner (although I stand by the fact that Sam didn't introduce me on this occasion, he did later introduce me to Larry and his Flask who are one of my favourite bands, so don't say I don't give credit where is is due!)

At the end of that summer, Sam headed back to college leaving behind a few CD's and oversized sweaters that I went ahead and stole. 

A few years later I got my license and a bright green car that still housed a light-up CD player identical to the one I vividly remember my childhood neighbor popping out and hiding under his car seat in fear of it being stolen. In a heavy rotation with my fire mixed tapes was the Love, Ire & Song album I stole from Sam's stash.

I know every word of that album frontwards, backwards....maybe even in German, who knows, it's a possibility.

Although I have claimed on numerous occasions that Long Live the Queen is my favourite Frank Turner song (I'm not actually sure why, it's just always the one that pops into my head first) there is a different song that I always turn to when I need to be kicked in the ass....

Do you ever listen to a song and think....oh....this was written about me, I don't even know you Frank Turner, why did you make me your muse? I'm flattered. This is that song for me.

Now time for a slight detour but we will meet back up with the original path a few miles down I promise.

After sending out my last blog post just a few hours ago,  I immediately read an article about Selma Blair and an update on her battle with MS. A side-note here, that scene in Legally Blond where Elle Woods proves she is the ultimate queen and goes about showing Warner and Vivian who they are fucking with is the kind of energy I aspire to bring to my every day life. I definitely WWEWD on the regular, and yet here I was lamenting about my own poor choices and confusion while the Vivian Kensington is going through some hardcore shit. After crying over the idea of Selma turning to social media to let the world know she can't cry and wants her Mum (I feel that in my bones, always) and of course forwarding the article to my friend to let her know about said tears, I hit shuffle on my Spotify and ran myself a relaxing 6am bubble bath. 

And wouldn't you know who popped up? My man Frank with the song he definitely wrote for me. A tag team early morning reality check, here to remind me I'm so wrapped up in my invisible armor, I've only got myself to blame and I need to stop being an idiot.

Thanks Frank, maybe I'll actually take the advice to heart this time....

***I just reread this and boy is it clear I got like an hours sleep last night, yikes. Driving and blogging, two things you should not do while drowsy.

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