I find this woman so wonderful. She puts me in a constant state of cognitive dissonance, but really, it’s the type I’d “happily” bask in. I do happy-feet, head bobs and finger snaps whenever her songs are on (“Call Your Girlfriend,” “Dancing On My Own”), but it doesn’t take too long for me to notice my brows are furrowed, mind deep in thought, and I actually feel…sad.

I guess that’s the power of her music. It makes you dance, yet it makes you sad; it’s a delicious irony, really. It’s a state of emotion that you don’t come by everyday, and it makes me curious — that it can come naturally to express certain emotions in ways that don’t seem so “appropriate” at first. Although I guess that’s why it’s always fascinating to me that we cry when we’re happy, and indeed doubly so that it can be an involuntary thing to dance when you’re sad.

And I guess it helps that this totally makes sense to me right now:

Will you tell me once again how we’re gonna be just friends? If you’re for real and not pretend, then I guess you can hang with me. When my patience’s wearing thin, when I’m ready to give in, will you pick me up again? Then I guess you can hang with me.

When you see me drift astray, outta touch and outta place, will you tell me to my face? Then I guess you can hang with me.

And if you do me right, I’m gonna do right by you. And if you keep it tight, I’m gonna confide in you. I know what’s on your mind; there will be time for that too, if you hang with me.

Just don’t fall recklessly, headlessly in love with me, ‘cause its gonna be all heartbreak, blissfully painful and insanity. If we agree, you can hang with me.