Tuesday Tunes: Jewel’s “Foolish Games”

Editor’s Note: Song lyrics denoted in bold italics.

Lest you think that I only went through a wannabe emo phase in my youth based on last week’s Tuesday Tunes, I’m here to set things right today. Because, obviously, there were many sides to my formative years — it was the amazing ’90s, after all — and, honestly, not all of them were as pretty or as memorable as that Alanis phase.

Except, well, one other phase.

My singer-songwriter phase.

Now, this was in the days before Taylor Swift worked her music magic, but back then, I was obsessed with the wonderful stylings of Jewel. Oh, this lady had IT — that perfect combination of self-confidence and vulnerable introspection. She sang about love in such a dark, somber way at time, and it completely skewered my heart into a million tiny pieces. Most of the time, I felt like she was telling my story; I mean, as much as my story could be developed at the tender age of 14 or 15. But, nonetheless, I saw myself in Jewel, and for the first time, her tunes gave a voice to my pent-up, frustrated feelings.

Jewel’s “Foolish Games”
From Pieces of You

Wow, could her album title be more appropriate? Pieces of you, indeed! Although, for me, it was more like Everything About You. That’s just how much I could identify with Jewel’s words. It was like she pinpointed a laser right into my heart and extracted every emotion, every feeling, every experience I’d had up to that point and then set it all to a soundtrack. A soundtrack that sounded much like a melodic, yearning, sentimental opera, if that makes any kind of sense. If you’re a Jewel fan, I’m pretty sure it, in fact, makes perfect sense.

You took your coat off, stood in the rain
You’re always crazy like that
And I watched from my window
Always felt I was outside looking in on you
You’re always the mysterious one with
Dark eyes and careless hair
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care
You stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather

I know it seems like I have all this love stuff figured out these days (cue sarcasm…), but back in my teen years, I was downright clueless. I mean utterly clueless. About everything. And it wasn’t just about things related to my disability. The entire universe of love and boys and dating was foreign, uncharted territory. Heck, I was so confused that I half expected to step on land mines every time I took a step. It was getting that bad. I felt like I was somehow removed from the action around me, as if I was standing on the other side of a giant glass window and watching the world go on around me. I watched my peers engaged in this new dance and I didn’t know any of the steps. It was weird and mysterious. But it was also incredibly intriguing. I was definitely dying to know more about it.

Well in case you failed to notice
In case you failed to see
This is my heart bleeding before you
This is me down on my knees, and


These foolish games are tearing me apart
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You’re breaking my heart

So when that fateful time came and I developed my first serious crush (helloooo, Crush Boy!), I desperately tried to find the rules to these “games” that everyone seemed to be playing. Trust me, if there’s ONE thing I’m a pro at, it’s research and learning. Give me a textbook, notebook, pen and trusty highlighter and I’ll go to town. I approached this new crush territory the exact same way. I searched and searched for those elusive answers to those mysterious questions that stumped me. Obviously, I didn’t find them, even after looking far longer than I probably should have. But everything I did find — and subsequently, everything I did — seemed to break my heart. I was right there, but he didn’t notice at all, at least not in the way I wanted him to. I felt invisible, like I was just some girl he knew. I wanted to be the girl, the one who stood out and won his heart.


You’re always brilliant in the morning
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you
You loved Mozart and you’d speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar

It didn’t help that one’s youth is typically Insecurity Central, so I always felt dwarfed in comparison. The boys I fell for were cultured — as much as teens can be — and intelligent. They weren’t afraid to broadcast said intelligence for the entire world to see, and it could be extremely intimidating at times. Maybe that’s the beginning of my awkward phase, which, obviously, is still going strong to this day. So I hid a lot of myself for fear of coming across foolish or dumb. Maybe if I’d had the confidence to just be myself, things would have been very, very different.

Even now, decades later, I still struggle with those insecurities. They haunt me like yesterday’s fashions, and I just wanted to scream at guys, “Hey, can’t you see what you’re doing?? I’m right here!” Granted, I don’t feel this way all the time, but when I do, it’s intense, let me tell you!

Who Was Your First Celebrity Crush?

So I have a confession to make: From the moment I saw the first Star Wars movie, I was hooked. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old, but I was enchanted — hypnotized and entranced, even.

And it wasn’t even the spectacle of it all that I loved so much. Not the lightsabers. Not the Storm Troopers. Not even the intergalactic showdowns. Nope, it wasn’t about any of that. Really, it was about one person in particular.

A man named Luke Skywalker.

Oh, I was obsessed. Sure, I’ve fallen for fictional characters since (Chuck Bass! Don Draper! Captain America! The Winchester brothers!), but you never really forget your first celebrity love, do you? I mean, Mr. Skywalker was brave and fearless. He never gave up, and to my five-year-old heart, THAT’s what you should always look for in a potential crush. I must have watched Star Wars multiple times and just smiled at the TV screen — mine was a pure and exciting and unconditional love, even when I found out that he was the spawn of evil Darth Vader. In fact, I think that just made me love him even more. Here was a man who was just trying to do the right thing, and suddenly, everything takes a turn for the complicated and intense.

I’ll always love you, Luke!

Who was your first celebrity crush, friends? Why did you fall for them? Were they on TV? In movies? Also, will you be seeing Star Wars: The Force Awakens when it hits theaters this Friday? xoxo

An Open Letter To Phil Collins

Dear Mr. Collins:

I know that this letter might seem a bit strange, coming me and all — a random, ordinary girl from the Midwest. And I’m pretty sure the fact that I featured you as this week’s Man Candy just might place me a little higher on the creeper/semi-obsessed fan scale.

But truthfully? I can live with that. In fact, my eyes have been seeing red ever since I discovered a little petition some evil jokester started about you. Now, it’s just the Internet, so let’s be real about how much stock we can actually put into it, but that’s not really the point, gosh darn it! Maybe you didn’t see the petition? I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, it basically called for you to permanently retire from music.

Ack! I’ll admit that I’ve never been comfortable with the term “retirement” when it comes to musicians. When they say they’re retiring, I get visions of an endless stream of Greatest Hits and tribute bands. It all gives me a gigantic Case of the Sads. The feelings can be quite overwhelming, actually, and it’s easy to get down on the state of music sometimes.

So when I heard from you that you’d be coming out of retirement, I could barely contain my sheer excitement – ha, take that pesky petition! But then I had to wonder: When exactly did you go “into retirement” in the first place?

You see, you never really left. At least not from my life. You’ve always been a huge part of my musical experience and upbringing. You were always that one artist I could count on to be there – to bring the songs and the emotions I desperately needed most in life. Especially during my childhood – during the height of your career in the fantabulous ‘80s – your songs marked practically every car ride into Chicago for a doctor’s appointment or a trip to the hospital. It may sound strange (and again, I promise I’m not some creepy stalker, though I know all the evidence in this post points to the contrary…), but it was all rather comforting, to hear your song come on that old-fashioned radio – it sort of felt like coming home again. Schmaltzy, I know, but comforting nonetheless!

So, I suppose this is my way of saying “THANK YOU!” Way back in the day, you made a little red-haired girl feel a little less scared and afraid. Even now, I smile when I hear your tunes, so keep ‘em coming, OK? I’m sure there are lots of other people counting on you. I know this fangirl is… xoxo

An Open Letter To One Direction

Dear Harry, Niall, Louis, Liam and (yes!) Zayn:

First, let’s address the giant elephant in the room: Yes, I’m including Zayn in this letter because as any Directioner will tell you, he’ll always be part of the band in our hearts.

I write this letter with no hint of shame, no mocking, no irony. After all, you know that I never joke around when it comes to music and pop culture; life is just too darn short for any of that nonsense.

And second, in case you’re wondering why I addressed you all individually, it was the only way to start a letter like this. Because as every Directioner also knows, the group is made up of five guys with five very distinct personalities. Harry, you’re mischievous. Niall, you’re shy. Louis, you’re the boy next door. Liam, you’re the jokester. And Zayn, you’re the mysterious one.

Well, now that we got that out of the way, let’s get to the heart of my letter. I owe you all a big, huge, gigantic THANK YOU! You see, you guys are rare. It’s not every day that a band comes along and captures the collective pop culture conscience the way you lads have. It’s a very rare thing, indeed. And it’s even rarer to see pop stars rise to stardom as humbly and graciously as you have.

It’s quite refreshing, actually.

So you can imagine my surprise — followed immediately by a tidal way of can’t-breathe, overwhelming sadness! — when, Zayn, you announced your intentions to leave the band last spring. All the rumors and accusations flying around was enough to make my head spin: You guys were feuding, Zayn wanted to go solo, Zayn-has-a-swelled-head this, Zayn-is-Yoko that.

Crazy, right?

You put some of our worst fears to rest when you assured us that you were going to persevere onward as a foursome.

Whew! Dodged a bullet with that one.

Then things got cray-cray again when you announced that your current tour and upcoming album would be the last for awhile. You. Were. Taking. A. Break.

*Cue collective cries of fans the world over*

What?? Are you kidding me? How can you guys do that? Just rip our hearts out and throw ’em to the wolves. I’d expect something like this from 5 Seconds of Summer, but not you.

My heart, boys, is breaking and, ironically, I can’t turn to new music from you to make me feel better. I suppose I’ll be forced to look to soft rock and ’80s power ballads for a healing tonic.

But I digress.

You probably don’t know this, but I have a long history with boy bands. Some may even call it a passionate love affair. I first fell in love with them when I was a mere tot, when I wanted nothing more than to hold the Beatles’ hands. Were they my gateway drug into a world of mop-topped, cheeky, synchronized-dancing, sugar-coated singing goodness? Yes, and even if it would be bad for me, I had no intention of EVER going back. I was flying down that rabbit hole, and I loved every single minute of it. From there, I became a believer in the Monkees. I knew the Osmonds couldn’t possibly be one bad apple. I also knew the New Kids on the Block had the right stuff. I wanted it that way with Backstreet Boys and I vowed to never say bye, bye, bye to *NSYNC. I even felt my temp burning up for the Jonas Brothers before a certain middle brother broke a certain girl’s heart — I may love boy bands, but as every woman knows, it’s sisters before misters.

A few years passed and I began to think my boy band days were over. After all, I was getting on in years, and in the world of boy band, your early 30s is downright ancient. So I began preparing myself for the worst — i.e., endless hours of Kenny G. and his saxophone. It wasn’t a pretty sight; I clung to the pop world with everything I had left. I mean, I wasn’t going to go gently into that elevator-music night.

And that, boys, is when you came along. Just at the right moment. Just when I needed you the most. I can’t help but think fate had a little something to do with it. You were like a breath of fresh air. You taught me I was beautiful, even when I didn’t know it. You told the story of my life. You gave me the best song ever to bob my head to. You taught me the beauty of all those little things. Heck, you made me feel young again and put the spring back in my step — or the pop back in my wheelie, as it were.

So again, thank you. Thank you for making an old lady feel young again and thank you for the happy music because there’s most definitely not enough of that in this world. I’ll always be a part of this fandom, as all the hip kids say these days.

I do hope you’ll pull that classic boy band move someday and reunite for a comeback tour. I figure I’ll probably be in my late 40s by then and be staring a midlife crisis straight in the eyes. I’m going to need some heavy One Direction tunes at time, so please, please come through. I’ll be counting on you, Harry, Niall, Louis, Liam and (yes!) Zayn! xoxo