A swift kick

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I admit it. There’s something about Taylor Swift I like. Yes, I’ve seen her perform live on TV and well, no comment. But, you can’t deny that she’s cute. All 90 pounds of her with that thar sparkly guitar. As a woman who was once a 90-pounder (without a sparkly guitar), I appreciate those stick-figure legs in some sort of a kindred-spirit kind of way.

Her songs are 90-pound sparkly, too. You know. Light weight and a little fun. Not really flashy, though.

Swift kick

But here’s what I admire most. Her willingness to tell someone what she thinks of them in a song.

I would never do that.

Well, I’m not a songwriter, but that’s not the point.

I’m pretty sure I would be ashamed to memorialize my rancid feelings for an individual by committing them to song bytes or bits, or whatever MP3, 4 or 25 format du jour. For one thing, because it’s always my hope that

(A) the feelings will pass and I’ll forgive my foes their short-comings and will have gone to reconciliation seeking forgiveness for my own. (Then wouldn’t THAT be awkward when my mega-hit record came out?)

(B) that no one would ever see me as the bitter person I secretly am. (I’m not really bitter at all. I just occasionally have bitter feelings that bum me out.)

So, like Miss Taylor, every now and then, I yearn to dish out just one swift kick.  And today is just one of those days.

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