The Art of Music - Alanis Morissette

Like art, music is subjective. A song can mean something to you that is totally different than the artist intended. Or, perhaps, you see what they see and you feel what they were feeling when it was created. There are so many songs throughout my life that bring back memories: memories of those hot 1970s summertime drives with my father during his obligatory Sunday visit, memories of hanging out with my my best friends at a club in my early 20s, memories of crying myself to sleep after my boyfriend of 8 years was killed one July night.

There are certain artists that have touched my life and have become a premiere member of my All-Time Favorites playlist on my iPod. I go to that playlist when I'm feeling nostalgic, emotional, passionate or want to sing at the top of my lungs while I vacuum.

For me, this week's song is Not the Doctor by Alanis Morissette. The entire album from 1995, Jagged Little Pill, is angry, emotional, intense, magnetic and contagious. To me, she is saying "I don't want you to project your shit on me, so look at me for who I am and be grateful for what you have."

Not the Doctor

by Alanis Morissette

I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours

I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey

Hidden in the bottom drawer

I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine

Lend me some fresh air

I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you

I don't want to be your babysitter

You're a very big boy now

I don't want to be your mother

I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months

Show me the back door

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6

Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh

Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom

You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor

I don't want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon

And I don't want to be your other half, I believe that 1 and 1 make 2

I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face

At midnight, hey

What are you hungry for

I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together

I don't want to be your idol

See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights

I don't want to be lived through

A vicarious occasion

Please open the window

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6

Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh

Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom

You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor

I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week

I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart

And it's wounded beat

I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling

What do you thank me

What do you thank me for

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6

Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh

Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom

You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor