Anna Molly

So Incubus came out with this song called Anna Molly. And when I first listened to it, I thought “man, they did it again.” Instant Classic in my book, if you ask me. But what made it even better was one car ride home.

A few Sundays ago, I decided that instead of taking the crowded, unscenic, and randomly-traffic-ridden highway back to my apartment from my mom’s house…I’d take the longer way. The greener, more tranquil, traffic-light dotted road home. It just so happened that Brandon Boyd, lead singer of Incubus, was hosting one of the radio shows that I frequent. As he introduced “Anna Molly,” he explained it a little more for his listeners. You see, according to Mr. Boyd, Anna Molly is a play on words…I’m sure you’ve noticed if you’re reading this out loud…which you probably aren’t, but it’s ok. The song is about an ideal girl that Brandon had pictured in his mind. A product of Brandon’s imagination, he searches for Anna Molly only to realize that she is indeed an anomaly, and doesn’t exist. Because, as he noted, no girl (or boy) that we’ve all imagined at one point or another, is tailored to our specifications…and they never will be. No matter how hard or how long we look, and no matter how hard or how long we try. We have to accept the fact that what we’ve created in our minds as ideal, is not.

I thought about this for a while. And really, I wanted to write about a boy that I’ve created in my mind, who wears chucks and brushes his hair to the side, and listens to Jack Johnson without feeling emasculated. But then I realized that what I mostly suffer from is not searching for an ideal boy who may or may not exist, but for an ideal life. I’ve been spending huge parts of my life waiting for a life that I’ve so carefully and intricately planned. A life according to logic and human possibilities and reason and common sense. Or basically, a life according to the incredibly limited and arrogant mind of S. Elbouez. And I was pretty smitten with this life that I had created.

So little by little, when things weren’t happening the way I’d planned them, I started getting confused…frustrated…bitter…and ultimately, hopeless. And my dear friends, hopelessness is the soul’s dark abyss. Ok, that was a little dramatic, but it’s bad nevertheless. And I can’t tell you that I’m all better and the birds are chirping and everything’s just wonderful; but I can tell you that I’m in the process of understanding that I’m not as smart as I thought I was. And to be completely honest, I’m not that smart at all. I’m just a kid who got caught up in my own anomaly, and then realized that there were no regularities to begin with.