I barely can stand to type sitting here. I just want to listen. I love music. Always have. I grew up in a house filled with music. My dad’s worked in radio pretty much all of my life. I play no instruments; I used to sing. Or at least try to. Mostly I just love to listen. I couldn’t really tell you what my style is. One thing for sure it’s not, is country. I never could stomach it. My ear for the edgiest alternative has dwindled. But other than that what I enjoy spans decades, cultures, & continents. A friend of mine used to send me the freshest and most obscure tunes, but I realized I just couldn’t keep up with all that was coming at me.
I used to find a great deal of inspiration to write in music. I suppose I still do, but I also love to just let it wash over me and take my imagination where it might go. A lot of songs have strong memories associated with them, some painful, others joyous. I still can’t comprehend what all goes in to writing a song. Where do you start? How do you find the tune? Will we someday run out of new music? Are the combinations of notes and emotions finite?
Wow. I love this song.
Time to listen.
You might say that I’m emotional. You could definitely accuse me of overreacting from time to time. And while I may truly mean what I say & feel what I feel, I’ve also found that when the moment has passed and I look back at what the facts are, I occasionally misplace some of my frustrations.
Okay. Maybe more than occasionally. But I know I’m hardly the only one.
I’d like to think I’ve done a good job of learning how to own my mistakes. The trouble often comes when I try to rectify them and things don’t work out the way I’d hoped. I invest myself fully into setting things right. And then I think that let-down is even more gut-wrenching than ever making the mistake in the first place.
Sometimes, I guess, there’s just no logic to it. Sometimes maybe the only true measure of success is how we handles ourselves in all things, and how quickly we rise again after the fall.
It’s important to remember that an answer to your question can come in many forms. Like if you ask for something, sometimes your answer will come in a change of circumstances rather than a direct response.
Yesterday I was pretty pissed about our company’s change in their education policy. They just added a clause that states if you leave the company for any reason other than “reduction in workforce” (aka downsized, like in this economy), within 3 years of receiving education assistance, you will be required to pay the money back. For me that translates in to four years getting a degree plus three years of abiding by this new clause equals not even THINKING about leaving H & S to have kids until I’m 32 years old.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I’m not going to risk being the best mother I could be in order to get the best possible paycheck at some point in the future.
It’s really as simple as that for me. But the thing that gets me is that they didn’t wait to resolve my pending request, or even let me know that this change was coming. So rather than a straightforward response, I get this memo that feels like a direct attack on my age, sex, and childbearing status. Legitimate, maybe. Slap in the face, sure feels like it.
Oh well, I guess. It’s not like I’m not accustomed to things not going my way from time to time. I was prepared for the possibility that I wasn’t going to get what I wanted anyway. I sure wish my answer had come to me directly, but it has come none the less.
On to the next.
I read this morning about some musician wanting to create an “organic experience” and I just shook my head. ‘Organic’ is mostly hype, now more than ever. At least what we label as organic, anyway.
Besides, in a media blitzed, internet-addicted, instant gratification society, could there be such a thing as an organic experience?
I guess that what you consider organic depends on what you’d consider artificial. Quite frankly, I don’t even know anymore. I don’t garden by any means, but I’ll take my old fashioned oats any day over a box of sugary confection cereal. (Ok maybe not ANY day, but most days for sure.) If I put my non-USDA certified organic oats in with my USDA certified organic soymilk, what do you get? What about if I add dried cranberries? Or today, I added orange-flavored cranberries… it’s all so non-sensical.
So we can all accept that the idea of organic food is nice but in actuality it’s a bit of a joke. But now an experience… that seems to be a whole different mine-field. Two people can exist in the exact same circumstances and have totally different experiences. It’s all about perspective. For me, if I were to pursue an organic experience, I’d probably head to the park & find myself a swing. I’m not even sure what an organically bad experience would be like. Something terrible that happened purely by accident? But if chance is one of the defining factors in an organic experience, then the concept of creating something organic seems to be an utter failure.
Perhaps, though, all that’s required is to be utterly in the moment, to keep your eyes wide open, and try not to judge prematurely the meaning and the reason that these things are happening. For someone like me who is prone to speculation and contemplation, to have that kind of an organic experience would be a spectacular achievement.
Something new to strive for…
Another Sunday night spent waiting for the dryer to stop so I can fold & hang my laundry when I should be in bed.
My life is somewhere between monotonous and interesting. I generally get by with minimal effort, though I don’t always get to the gym or get the healthiest meals when I do this. I haven’t heard back yet about whether my work will pay for all the classes I want to take. I know that if I do, though, I’m really going to have to kick it up a notch. I know that getting out of my comfort zone is a good thing, but they call it a “comfort zone” for a reason.
I have a little failure-anxiety that creeps up on me in moments like this. What if I just can’t handle more than what I’ve already got on my plate? (Which literally speaking might be too much at times, but figuratively speaking is basically nothing.)
Frankly, I’m realizing that for all my progress, I still suck at being patient. Of course, I have my antithesis sitting next to me, making me seem even jumpier than normal. Truly, we compliment each other in this respect, even though at times that means we drive each other bonkers. If only I knew his secret…
And then I go and get distracted… just staring off into space thinking about the way he looks at me when I’ve made him laugh… (at IHOP eating one bite of pancake with each of the different syrups)
I guess regardless of our flaws, we’ll be just fine. One way or another.
I got a little taste of my own medicine today.
I have a tendency to let frustration about one thing spill over into something else, and unfortunately Brandon most often finds himself victim. It’s unfair; and I try to apologize as quickly as possible. Often, though, it’s too late because my biting words have already done the damage & I find myself explaining my head and heart for the next few days.
Today though, I got a solid reminder not to let that happen if at all possible. Push the wrong button, or even reach for your phone at an inopportune moment & KABLOW! Tears well up in my eyes and I feel utterly dejected. I called him out on it and he apologized. And apologized. And then apologized again. I’m a little bit sad still, but he’s done everything he can. Now I just need to move on.
And try to keep this little lesson in mind as we go forward.
I’m a firm believer in thinking positive. I don’t expect it do make me ten pounds lighter by just thinking it, or anything like that. But I do believe that harboring negativity is the biggest waste of time and energy, with myspace or facebook in a close second.
Yesterday I’ll admit I was excessively cranky for both legitimate and nonsensical reasons, but all I really wanted to so was just be over it. Brandon reminds me to leave my work at work, and with a little practice I’ve gotten much better at that. I was just so annoyed with the way a few things had gone at the end of the day, though, that I had to vent a little. Also, some affection helped. And a martini (just one, people).
So I went to bed early, ready the day to be over. I wasn’t really in a foul mood still, just exhausted from carrying it around all day. I think the most important tool is to realize that what’s done is done. Then you can consider whether or not the things that were so irksome were actually done in malice, and then finally you can decide whether or not that malice really even means anything to you.
Some people will not like me, and I’m quite ok with that considering that I’m probably not the most fond of them either. Personalities that clash, motives that I find intolerable, and the occasional awful smell will remind me to just steer clear whenever possible. I just don’t have a stomach for the drama.
As things were winding down, I realized there was nothing to be done about the way things went, nothing was done intentionally to bother me, and I would be better off adjusting my attitude to make the most of tomorrow.
Which is now today. And while the caffeine starts to wear off, I can still have a good laugh at all the things that seemed so insurmountable just a few hours before. That may just be the best medicine of all, anyway.
So watch out, giggles are coming back!