Great Writing Samples of Adam Young (Owl City)! Source: owlcityblog.

com (copyright by Adam Young, check out his latest writings there!) For instance, I unmistakably enjoy a great deal of post-rock and ambient music. Be it ironic or otherwise that a large part of the music I create finds its way into the pop realm and ultimately into the ever-evolving catalog known as electronica, but regardless, there’s something about recorded music without the presence of vocals that raises the hairs on my neck and truly, genuinely inspires me. I close my eyes, forget all about my surroundings and drift away to “somewhere else” where things are exactly as I imagine them, often superimposed and washed in a very “idealist” light. By definition, I am an escapist, which is to say, I enjoy thinking about what the world would be like if it were different… better than it currently is. It’s no surprise that I often wonder what things would be like if I myself were different as well. The thought is an intriguing one and furthermore, I find that by listening to material that neither suggests nor blatantly tells me how to think or feel… well, suddenly I can go anywhere, do anything, be anyone. In that moment, dreams are no longer hovering discouragingly out of reach, but instead are made real and vivid, floating right above my head. That’s an invigorating feeling.

You know how you toss and turn at night and suddenly you’re a “director” watching your own life play out via mental movies projected onto the back of your eyelids? Things are exactly as you imagine them and are often “perfect” in the sense that situations, scenarios, environments, relationships, you name it, because you are “directing” them, are just right, ideal, wonderful, surreal, or too good to be true.

I love that.

When I fall asleep mid-scene and wake up the next morning, those imaginings are still with me and they inspire me not only to take hold of how beautiful those projections from the night before were, but almost play them out as if they really were the way I imagined them, projections of MYSELF especially.

To put it simply, sometimes I imagine myself as a better person than I really am and that alone inspires me to actually attempt the endeavor. I am FAR from perfect and that’s reason enough to shake off whatever vanity, gratification or unhealthy selfimportance I inevitably collect throughout life and instead seek humility, patience, virtue, morality and the utmost of integrity. I desire a steadfast, stalwart and

Tucked behind the front cover was a small slip of red paper. I realize I’m being a bit ambiguous but it shouldn’t be all that hard to put together. even if we’re apart. the way you strum if you’re a musician. the more I realize I have no interest in living for myself and that my focus is far better fixed on things unseen. But the most important thing is. You are braver than you believe. I’ll always be with you.” . I am inspired to tackle the job with more vigor than I ever have before. Life is such a beautiful gift and I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t got it figured out in the least. You Are Braver Than You Believe A few nights ago I was thumbing through the pages of a book someone once gave me. stronger than you seem. and somehow by occasionally imagining that “life” as a true reality in full color. there is something you must always remember. the way you paint the page if you’re an artist… The sky really is the limit. But the more days go by and the more I turn around and look back on them. On it was written the following: “If ever there is a tomorrow when we’re not together.” What if you could create your own? What would it sound like in your imagination? What would your life really look like if you could set it up like a scene and shoot it? It goes without saying that materialism is fleeting and will inevitably come and go but what if the things that inspire you actually have effects beyond the way you write if you’re an author. and smarter than you think.committed life. Some say “the trouble with life is that there’s no background music. the way you see the world through lenses if you’re a photographer.

had things turned out differently. our solar system. The book in my hands was tied to a long story that involved myself and the person who gave it to me. family. Owl City Blog I used to know a girl who had a beautiful way of looking at the world around her. yet as I sat there thinking about it. or at least things I don’t have any right wishing for. I try to remind myself how blessed I am to have what I have: friends. a Savior.” and wondered aloud. from the mundane to the wondrous. by some mysterious form of inherent rationale. Perhaps that’s trite and pessimistic but I suppose this way of thinking is more common than we tend to gather or even realize. sometimes I wish things had turned out differently… because I can’t help but wonder. and ultimately. She pointed at the Earth. . would’ve somehow been better off. It was then that I caught myself subconsciously wishing things were the way I wanted them rather than the way they were meant to be. Sometimes wondering can get you into trouble because it’s often the case that you find yourself. But then of course. “Look how tiny we are compared to everything around us…” So often I scornfully catch myself wishing for things I don’t have. had past journeys been steered down different roads and headed in completely different directions. our galaxy.-Winnie the Pooh Perhaps the most compelling quote ever credited to a portly cartoon bear. and beyond. moment by moment. the “everything else. believing that you. She saw the splendor and charm in everything. Though I rarely intend to. It took years to unfold. the planets. Sometimes I wonder who I would’ve been. a montage of memories flashed before my eyes and something inside began to hurt. or your life. passions. Once we sat in an empty parking lot and she showed me a page from an old astronomy textbook that depicted our planet. I immediately gave it a second thought and realized what an ABSURD thing that was to be thinking and I scolded myself.

but I can certainly speak for the impending inhibitions that we shy males must deal with. He is trapped in inner turmoil. just stands there like a n00b with his jaw on the sidewalk. so very humbled. Deep Regret refers to the irresistible longing a boy has to approach and speak to his dream girl even though he cannot physically or emotionally make himself do it.I am immensely grateful for the life I’ve been given and for the opportunities I’ve been allowed to seize. It’s not a conscious thing on her part. Never for a second have I pretended to have the ever-elusive female charm all figured out. she takes zero notice of him and doesn’t even acknowledge his existence as she gracefully strolls away out of sight. . so exquisite. wishing he wasn’t such a jellyfish around pretty girls. he watches her walk away and spends that night staring at the ceiling wondering WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED had he found the strength to fight back the nerves long enough to say hello.” By definition. This girl is so gorgeous. Utterly helpless. Despite the inner machine gun spray of stinging desperation. His chance is lost. he becomes unreasonably inarticulate. Stricken by quiet chaos. yet he still replays the scene in his head. Paralyzed. Who knows what might’ve happened? He kicks himself. The wondering alone could choke a moose. Deep Regret is the acute anxiety or inevitable apprehension trigged in the average male by the sudden or unexpected appearance of an immensely beautiful girl he innately knows is way out of his league. her feminine mystique are so intoxicating. Naturally. innocent and utterly charming. Her beauty and elegance. She simply has no idea. so staggering. he becomes instantly enamored beyond mental functionality and can barely keep his eyes from popping out of his head. I’d tried to give this crazy phenomena a suitable title for a long time until Pete finally hit the nail on the head. she is gone. let alone bring himself to speak to her. Okay. his knees involuntarily go weak. Deep Regret My friend Pete has a theory he refers to as “Deep Regret. she’s not being discourteous or mean by any stretch of the imagination. and ultimately out of this life forever. and as a result. I am altogether undeserving. and thus. she’s just that sweet. so stunning.

One of them turned to say something to her friend and I almost had a heart attack. dear friends. lustful. walking and chatting amongst themselves on their way to the show. overly-rugged masculine emotion that took hold of me. the way she walked. She was beautiful. is Deep Regret. arrogant bro. it happened. There in front of us was a group of girls in their early/mid-twenties. I did NOT jump up and down and inwardly scream “Woah. her smile. that it has ultimately become a rather derogatory adjective with which to describe such pure and blameless beauty. The sidewalk led us around the perimeter of the grounds before intersecting with a long line of fans waiting to get into the show. I glanced off to my right and my heart literally stopped dead. We opened for John Mayer in Houston a few months ago.That. primal. Whew. It all happened in slow motion. It has a devious way of cheapening it and that tends to bug me. talking about nothing in particular when suddenly. the way she laughed. that girl is hot!” because it is my personal opinion that the word “hot” has been weighed down by so many repulsive. disrespectful connotations (all thanks to modern media). Glad that’s all cleared up. We were minding our own business. I literally. the way her hair fell across her face. Myself and good pal/monitor engineer Micah were hoofing down the quarter mile stretch from the venue to the bus after soundcheck. Deep Regret and the stunning quality of such unpolluted beauty is far too exquisite and innocent to be associated with such brash crudeness. Owl City Blog It was electric. Allow me to pause for a moment simply to clarify that this was NOT a beastly. Everything about her was gorgeous. My mouth went dry and my heart beat around inside my chest like a dull jackhammer as the butterflies in my stomach strapped on rusty ice . beautiful doesn’t even touch how graceful this woman was. Her eyes. physically couldn’t breathe. I was utterly smitten. I did NOT slobber all over myself via lewd desire like some impudent. Actually. I was immediately struck by the Stupid Hammer as my frozen charisma melted all over the sidewalk and I stood there gaping like a ridiculous imbecile.

I have my fair share of rough edges. leap out of my chair with my fist in the air. This is where I swallow an overdose of optimism.skates and raged in thunderous fury. She is real. My malfunctioning mental faculties shuddered and turned over a few times like a cold engine in a winter morning before promptly shutting down. just being totally sweet and innocent. It was the first time in my life I’d truly felt stunned by beauty. her strengths and weaknesses. the world continues to turn. I instantly knew what had happened because it hit me like an iron bell in an empty church. draw her close. and just like anyone. By all that she is. . I still wonder what would’ve happened. I pray for her constantly. I was speechless. she glided by and continued on down the sidewalk. her refuge. She exists. every fiber of her being. As I stood there incapacitated.” only to fail miserably. May she treasure and cherish her Savior more than anything of this world and cling to His will with every ounce of her stamina. and that’s my favorite part. We never made eye contact. Despite all of this. Alas. her identity. She was Cinderella. had I kept my wits about me and somehow found the nerve to approach Cinderella. endless amounts of the stuff. She had no idea I was even there. DEEP REGRET STRIKES AGAIN. there is hope. and shout from the rooftops at the top of my lungs. May God satisfy the desires of her heart. This is where I tell everyone how I’ve never fancied myself a terribly romantic person. and Deep Regret continues to strike like a viper. I suspect I would’ve merely blabbered a load of silly rubbish via a doomed attempt of acting “cool” or “outgoing” or “fun. during this particular scenario in Houston. consume her. she didn’t happen to look up or notice me. Of course. her hopes. “Life must go on!” for this I truly know: She is out there. May He claim her passions. My Cinderella. life continues to endure. However.

to do. A showdown is taking place in the middle of a sweltering dusty street. There is much time left and lots of life seasons. A mental scene is suddenly vivid. Deep Regret and I. Back to back. counting. Yet one I prefer to casually think about over long flights to Japan rather than wish upon a star right this second. Our friendship will grow and blossom. we’ll whirl around and face each other. and we shall chat pleasantly whilst swirling around a ballroom of dreamy splendor. the moment will surely arrive when faith and fear collide like a double train wreck and that’s when I’ll spin around and pull the trigger with such deft aim and vehement resolve. senses alert. Perhaps I’ll be wearing a crisp tuxedo when I meet her (highly unlikely). and graciously introduce myself. and to be. and neither of us will ever have to write silly (and rather verbose) blogs explaining what Deep Regret is because it’ll just feel right and perhaps even meant to be. I must take it all in. Perhaps the Cary Grant version is a bit more refined. Muscles tensed. give thanks for it. a silver bullet will rip through the air and I won’t even have to stand there and watch it spiral in slow motion… because I’ll already know… I won’t miss. At present. I am a happy clam. gun metal blazing like fire. She’ll offer me her royal hand. At any moment. That’s the cool Wyatt Erp version. waiting. ready to lunge for each other’s throats like wild animals. bow. shatter glass storefront windows. the sunset deepens in the dusk and we are still pacing. It’s a cozy thought. Our shots will ring through the empty buildings. The midday sun beats down on a dirty saloon town. I shall approach Her Highness. Time. and treasure reality with a . and only one will walk away alive.does. reveal her name to me. and strives to be. There is much to see. may He draw near to her and she to Him. Though it hasn’t happened yet. Deep Regret and I pace off as the clinks of our spurs split the deafening silence.

Months and months later. ready to act swiftly. but the moment you lock eyes with this person you once shared so many dreams with. Everything Reminds Me of You Dizzy. Your eyes land on this person. . You force yourself to walk over. you run into this particular person unexpectedly and the realization hits you like a brick wall. it left you shattered and bringing it up after all this time would only pour another dose of potent heartbreak for both of you. life has a way of operating. A bitter avalanche of icy memories plows into your chest at breakneck speed. Should I do simply that.heart crammed full of content as life continues to play out day-by-day. It’s almost as painful as the night you said goodbye. but before either of you say hello. You can barely breathe. God has a mysterious way of working. but then you see this person and suddenly those old familiar aches begin to hurt all over again. Even after it was all said and done. there’s really no use fighting it. Half of you aches for things to be the way they once were. the other half longs to forget the whole thing ever happened. your knees go weak and you internally panic. the relationship withered and ended. however dramatically. What affection the two of you once shared was absolutely beautiful. the blow is instantaneous and it’s overpowering. you’ve already got an endless amount of things you secretly want to say and an equally lengthy list of questions you wish you could ask. You were finally beginning to mend after what happened. Enough time has passed to con you into thinking you’ve begun to heal. Gasping for air. I shall finally rest assured knowing the next time Deep Regret rears its ugly head. and sometimes things change without a moment’s warning. But as everyone always reminded you. it’s still hard to imagine how things could’ve ever evolved from “always” to “never” in what seemed like a single dramatic heartbeat. I’ll be waiting with semi-smug confidence. your stomach turns and a bitter taste fills your mouth. The pain is still there. consequently rendering any unanticipated meetings thereafter twice as awkward. and of course you probably have. That’s how you feel when you run into a significant other you haven’t seen in a long time. stealing the very breath from your lungs. your heart immediately stops dead. Regardless of your role in the conclusion of the relationship.

You just can’t stop thinking “things will never be the way they used to be” and that’s what hurts most. but that familiar mixed scent of perfume and cologne makes it even more impossible to know how to act. but because you deserve it. I thought about someone so much it was unhealthy. but this unforeseen meeting is still severely painful and there’s no denying that. Maybe you hug an awkward I-haven’t-seen-youin-forever gesture. not because you’ll surely find it. Who ultimately claims your hearts and where your fortresses are… and those things are truly what matter most. I still care about you. I want so badly to know you’re being taken care of. You deserve so much. unsure of what to say aside from the typical small talk jabber.So there you are. Adam . A myriad of emotions swirl through both your heads but they only make former lovers more confused. I think about you all the time. standing face-to-face. Owl City Blog This is me being honest. brief as the impending conversation inevitably will be. I just wish you knew how much I miss you. As healing as it is. I tossed and turned a lot last week. So here’s hoping I fall asleep easier tonight if I send a simple message out into the void: Girl. It keeps you both awake for nights. you can only drive around at night listening to The Swiss Army Romance so many times. I wish you the best in life. I’m praying for you constantly. You both know where your identities lie.

He takes the corners sharp. they just leave because the idea of escape is irresistible and driving at night always seems the thing to do whenever your heart is heavy and you need to be alone. he was a goner. steps through the damp backyard toward her sleeping car (parked a little too close to the curb) and steals away into the night.You Had Me At Hello Sometimes I catch myself wondering if two strangers in two different cities. Driving is still the only way he knows how to choke back the lump in his throat. Unfortunately. backs out the driveway. throw on hoodies. He’d fought it off as best he could. puts his favorite record on and makes for the interstate. Maybe he locks the house. The pain has become familiar but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He’s lonely and he knows it. but it’s nights like these that make it hardest to breathe. The steady pitterpatter on his bedroom skylight complimented the weight of insomnia so well. It’s not that she’s crushed about the past. it kept him wide awake all night and that’s what got him thinking in the first place. certain . She’ll be the first to admit some nights are worse than others. she was heartbroken at first and that’s a given. so he drives through town 10 mph over the limit and doesn’t even check the mirrors. The cops are clustered in the shadows by the freeway picking up speeders. the air hangs heavy on the scent of damp earth and wet streets from the summer drizzle that blanketed the city an hour ago. They don’t even bother to tug socks or shoes on. but once the splintered painful memories began working their way into his mind. She puts the sunroof back and lets the wind whip through her hair as the headlights drill holes into the misty blackness ahead. The windows are down. Owl City Blog Maybe she slides the patio door closed as quietly as she can. ever drag out of bed. both fighting insomnia. fumble around in the dark for their car keys and tiptoe to the garage. but enough time has passed to allow her to heal and she’s only beginning to breathe easier again. It’s 1:39 AM so there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do even if there was a good enough reason to stop for.

Maybe he lives in a small town an hour south of the city and whenever he feels like this. she starts drowning and it doesn’t matter how hard she kicks and struggles. Tonight she knows she needs to swing for a long time. She’s been there several times before and always drives home feeling a bit more resolved and determined to move on. so she parks the car well away from the wash of streetlights and tiptoes through the shadowy parking lot. and it was always as if the troubles seemed to sort themselves out after hours on the swing set. still warm from the afternoon sun. rises and falls. They’ve never met before. swinging is her remedy. Something about the silhouetted skyline framed by the dirty windshield is comforting to him. Swinging made everything right. It’s early Friday morning and most of her friends have to be up at 6:30 AM so there’s nobody to call. It gives him an easy target to shoot for. When things are bad. it’s like a snowflake that starts an avalanche. The darkness feels good. something to think about at least. and a good chance that any sent texts will be left unanswered until lunch break later that afternoon. and a sandy beach. everything reminds her of the way things used to be… or rather how bitterly they ended. and once the right thought hits her. swinging the hours away always helped to take the sting out of loneliness. Maybe the frontage road twists and turns. it’s really just a cute little lakeside park with a few picnic benches. The occasional pair of headlights summit the hillside ahead and eventually turn into an irregular stream as countryside slowly turns to suburban outskirt. He takes an exit and heads west on a frontage road. Since she was a little girl. a threshold where the sea of residential homesteads turn into pure untainted forest.memories set off tidal waves of heartache. She just needs to drive. she doesn’t really feel like talking anyway. The chilly midnight air gushing in through the windows makes him shiver but not enough to roll them back up. or at least helped the endeavor. But that’s alright. winds through the hills and eventually takes him over the suburban border. she makes a beeline for a secret place only she knows about. Had he switched the song or . he heads north. Bitter memories come rushing in so fast. These people are strangers. It’s actually not all that secret. a playground with swings. a goal to work towards. Maybe she lives by herself in a cozy apartment a few miles east of the city and whenever she feels like this. Neither has any idea the other exists. anything to keep his mind from wandering into unpleasant territory.

I’m terribly sorry. She feels her way down the cool concrete sidewalk toward the swings and smiles at the sudden sensation of sand between her toes. He turns the ignition off and just sits there with his eyes closed for a moment. unsure of what to say. “Oh. Maybe his headlights sweep across the parking lot but never land on the lone parked car hidden in the shadows. lake and recent rainfall.” he stammers. swept up in wonder. he’d just stopped here because he felt like it. The sound of water somewhere out in the darkness reaches his ears. he’s in bare feet too. her favorite kind of breezy. . Freshwater waves fizz as they roll up onto the beach and soak into the sand. He has no idea where he is or why he ended up here. just as surprised as he is. “I didn’t know anyone was out here!” Maybe they squint through the darkness at each other for a moment. He steps off the sidewalk into the sand and his car keys slip from his hand. he might have missed the sign that pointed the way to a little lakeside park two miles ahead. Maybe the sudden jangle shatters the peaceful silence and she can’t help but gasp as she snaps out of dreamy distraction. It’s a breezy night. listening to the ticking of the engine and the wind rushing through the leaves above. Maybe she doesn’t even hear him coming — after all.checked his phone. She lets the wind brush her hair down around her neck as her eyes slowly grow used to the darkness. lit only by a garden lamp post surrounded by a fog of insects. Maybe she’s utterly lost in dreams and beauty and reverie. Maybe her gasp startles him and he whirls around to see a pretty girl on the playground swings peering back at him. She settles into a swing and pumps her legs. chilly enough to make her glad she’d worn a sweatshirt. marvel. swinging her troubles away. The starry canopy pulses overhead. just swinging. the lush scent of forest. Maybe the park is pitch black.

he just had to get out of the house and after a lot of driving. this is where he ended up. but regardless. kindness. maybe vulnerability makes a sudden appearance and with it. that’s alright. empathy. perhaps I’m not cut out for something quite as cinematic. and not only is it completely unexpected. Owl City Blog Sometimes I catch myself thinking things like this really do happen. They both exchange shy hellos and laugh nervously. She hesitates. honesty. it’s absolutely beautiful. I’d be a liar if I said I’ve . but can’t help asking how he wound up out here in the middle of the night. old wounds slowly begin to heal. But then again. Maybe they feel a connection between them. Maybe things happen. by some unexplainable process. Maybe he can’t seem to gracefully say goodnight and leave. miraculously begins to flicker and slowly fade. two people really do meet this way and scenarios like these really do result in happy endings. He takes a good look around and can’t help but agree with her.” Maybe he decides he should at least start things off on the right foot and say hello.“Oh. for both of them. Maybe neither of them can find the right words to explain it. He apologizes for bothering her and starts heading back toward the parking lot.” she finally replies. “This beach doesn’t exactly belong to me. but she stops him. an avalanche of sincerity. this place was it. but somehow. Who knows what they talk about or what either of them secretly think. I’m a wishful thinker so what do I know about romance? I don’t always wish I was involved in such dreamy scenarios as I imagine. He pauses and tells her he honestly has no idea. Maybe the two of them start swinging and the hours go by. Maybe the painful past. maybe security is felt. compassion. and maybe she can’t help but point out the obvious — that there’s an empty swing beside her. understanding and warmth. if there ever was the perfect place to escape to. She tells him.

all because of past heartbreak and how messed up it left each of them. really only half listening to the pastor’s words. The old aches suddenly vanish. I suppose it all boils down to whether or not you believe in love. maybe they’re both trying to stay as far away from the mere idea of falling in love as possible. and the second you met the love of your life. what if one of the two characters in such a conceptual story was you? What if you’d been through more heartache than you could stand. and suddenly the old familiar pain of past shipwrecked relationships disappears. I’ll be the first to admit I like to think such stories are not so impossible. hurting for the same reasons. Or maybe moments like these NEVER happen and the daydream itself is stretched so thin. The church is packed.never thought about them. all dressed up. blinking back tears of . It’s an age-old daydream. What if things like this really do happen? Maybe they happen all the time. Maybe it’s so crazy. This world is crazy. you didn’t even have to think twice? You just knew. she peers at him from behind her veil. but all things aside. So what if scenarios like these are crazy enough to be real? What if they’re so crazy… months and years go by — and suddenly that night on the beach flashes before their eyes as they gaze at each other. accidents or miracles. randomly meet by accident at 2 AM and each feel some innate sense of “knowing” that the search is over? Maybe they’re not even searching at all. the point is that they meet. It doesn’t matter who these hopeless romantics are or where they came from. They’re made for each other and they know it. luck. it’s become cliche and should be deemed ridiculous. Can two people. but however improbable.

the more I’ll bet things like this happen all the time and none of us know about it. .joy… and he can’t help but smile back at her and mouth the words: Owl City Blog The more I think about it.

Sign up to vote on this title
UsefulNot useful