i'll take the nachos with extra commentary, please

For some reason, I always start craving chips and salsa as summer approaches. Maybe it's the sudden awakening of color all around me that inspires a desire for fresh spicy food and cold beverages. (My new favorite non-alcoholic drink is half sweet/half unsweet tea with lots of ice and fresh lemon and lime, by the way. Complicated, I know.) When the weather is nice, there is nothing better than sitting outside on the patio with the warm sun, a cool breeze, and good music. As an only child (and grandchild on my mom's side of the fam), I spent a lot of time by myself growing up. Therefore, I spent a lot of time thinking, analyzing, and creating fantastical stories in my head.  I especially enjoy the occasional lunch to myself just to have time to ponder, clear my head, or just have a good laugh. So I'd like to share a small chronicle of today's adventure in solitude.

Needing a break from my windowless office, I decided to go to Moe's - they have chips and salsa, patio, breeze, and cold beverages. They also have good music. All performed by dead people. It even says so on their website. I love this little fact - after all, it means my outdoor patio lunches are always accompanied by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Bob Marley, The Beatles (I think bands only require one dead member to qualify), and Ella Fitzgerald, with an occasional smattering of Queen or Janis Joplin. (I also think there must be a loophole for music written by dead people but performed by people who are still alive. I swear I heard Diana Krall in there a few weeks ago. I digress.) But I always feel really weird when I hear the dulcet tones of newly deceased musicians ringing across the patio. About 2 weeks after Michael Jackson died, I was eating at Moe's with my boss when I heard the opening chords of Human Nature. And I had a really odd moment of "Aww, yay. Wait. Oh, noooo." And I couldn't help but think how some stuffy corporate tie-bearing suited executive must be sitting up in his Moe's tower keeping watch on music news and waiting for the good ones to kick off, opening a new catalogue of music for the Moe's clientele to appreciate during their dining experience. And that just makes me sad. But maybe, just maybe, the guy in charge of Moe's music selection is secretly an old hippie (complete with a Dead shirt hidden under that suit and a Volkswagen van in the parking lot). And that makes me smile.

Part of the pondering and analysis that happens in my head involves watching people. Not in a creepy way. Okay, maybe a little. But more in the sense of just enjoying seeing their processes. It's kind of like geometric proofs - I like understanding the beginning and end point of a set of actions. I realize I have just admitted to being a big dork, but I can't help it. It is especially interesting to me to see people prepare for and eat a meal. Does he put a napkin in his lap? Does she move her food around to opposite sides of the plate? Is she going to cut that burger in half first? (Someone once told me that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who cut their burgers and those who don't. I don't know what that really means, but I like it.) Will he organize his food into categories and systematically eat it one item at a time? Is that guy ever going to wipe his mouth and hands? I love it. Anyway. Today, I saw a man sit down and get back up to get stuff three times before finally settling in to eat. And I just had to wonder why he didn't think about all the stuff he wanted before he got up. Or why didn't he get all of it on his little Moe's tray before sitting down? But then I realized that I do that all the time. No throwing stones here.

Sitting on the patio, I overheard a mom and her little boy, about 4 years old, walking out to their car. They were having a cute little conversation, and the boy says, "You are cool. I love you, Mommy." And she replies, "I love YOU." And he says, "No, I love you more." And she says, "No, I love YOU more." And they sort of went on like that 3 or 4 times until they got in the vehicle. My mom and I used to have that very conversation all the time when I was that age, probably up until I reached the "my-mom-is-the-lamest-person-ever" eye-rolling teenage years. It was an unending battle to try to out-love her. And no matter how many times I said it, or how much I told her I loved her - "THIIIIIIIIIS much!" with arms stretched as far apart as they'd reach - she, with arm- and attention-span greater than mine, would always win. When I was a kid, I hated that I couldn't win the "I love you" game. As an adult, I realize I'll never win it.  No matter how much I love my mom, she will always love me more. Not because I don't try, but because of the ownership she must feel, having created at least one half of me physically (and helping to shape a whole lot more of me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually). And while it is a little scary, it is also extremely comforting. I think that's the way it should be. I can only hope that one day I'll be able to love anyone as much as that little kid's mom loves him and my mom loves me.

windows to the soul

They - those mythical people who beguile and confuse us with countless declarations of fact and advice - say that the eyes are the true windows to the soul. Perhaps this was true fifty years ago, when people wrote  letters with pens on paper (and real, full-length sentences), had actual physical conversations, and played outside in the dirt. But in a modern world of emails, texts, and tweets all done away from the elements, I'm starting to wonder if perhaps there aren't some other opportunities for external soul voyaging (or voyeuring)...

Legs. I work in an office with no windows. We spend at least 40 hours a week in that space, wearing conservative business-appropriate attire and having polite business-appropriate conversation. Last week, we had a picnic. Outside. In the sun. In 90-degree humid Georgia weather. My boss suggested we dress down. A couple people wore shorts. They were business-appropriate shorts, but they were still shorts. Leg-exposing, humanizing shorts. In that moment, I realized something: I spend at least 40 hours a week with these people, and I still only know a fraction of who they really are. Even though we talk a lot and get along surprisingly well, I only really know the business-appropriate side of them. The side that is covered in pants and dress shirts and probably doesn't always say what it really feels. These are real people. With white pasty legs that haven't seen the sun in a long time. These are real people. With vulnerabilities and struggles and emotions and sometimes business-inappropriate senses of humor. These are real people. And I love them.

Music. I think you can tell a lot about a person by the kind of music they profess to love. I think that's an important distinction - professing to love and truly loving mean two very different things. Professing is all about designing your own public perception, marketing your personal brand. Truly loving is more of an intimate internal experience. And while both will certainly tell you a lot about the listener (and you can make the argument that the truly loved bit could be the more 'real' version of them), I think the professed love shows you more about their insecurities, thereby giving you a more complete picture of the real version of them.

Exhibit A: Those who claim love only for the most important classical works. They could easily be struggling to fit what is a perceived mold of intellectual perfection. You must drink wine in the swirl and sniff way. You must love stinky cheeses and hard bread. You must discuss literary magazines and important current events as though you truly care. You must reference obscure poets and scientific research in daily conversation. I'm not saying any of those things are so bad. But come on. Live a little. Be in the now a little. Understand that at least a few good things have come out of the common folks of the past 200 years. I know intellectuals, and I know musical snobbery at its finest (I have a degree in it, after all), and I can guarantee you that those people rock out to Zeppelin and Hendrix just as hard as they would Saint-Saens or Stravinsky.

Exhibit B: Those hipster kids who profess appreciation only for bands/artists no one's ever heard of and get pissed when other people discover them, thereby allowing the band to make money and stop starving, and automatically label said band a "sell out." Well, obviously, those kiddos are struggling so hard to be different that they don't realize they're all ending up exactly the same. I feel sad for them. I understand that whole 'damn the man' thing. I fully appreciate the idea of independent thinking and bolstering those artists who are making great music without the support of a label. I just wish those guys would lighten up a little bit. I wish they'd throw on some Justin Timberlake (who, despite all evidence of being a complete corporate fabrication, is actually incredibly talented and creative) and dance around their living room like the white dorks that they are. They would feel better. They might even smile. God knows they'd at least stop taking themselves so damn seriously.

Exhibit C: Those trend-a-minute folks who can only share knowledge of the most current 'music sensations.' These are the folks who are struggling so hard to be 'with it' that they latch on to what is popular not because they really put thought into it, but simply to avoid being left behind. Miley Cyrus. High School Musical. Taylor Swift. Most hip-hop. Are these things completely without merit? Of course not. After all, Madonna couldn't have been more trendy in the 80s, and I'll be damned if she's not still just as cool almost 30 years later. Miley might surprise me one day. High School Musical is generally crap to me, but I can't help but love Zac Efron's dimples. Taylor Swift can't sing worth a damn, but her songs are embarrassingly catchy. (I can't get that Romeo and Juliet one out of my head.) I never loved Beyonce until I saw that one scene in Dreamgirls where, through an amazing string of vocal pyrotechnics, she tells Jamie Foxx to kiss her ass. But to feel that these are the only things you can claim to love... to feel that you are somehow above the music of artists like Dionne Warwick, Phil Collins, The Platters, or even Elton John... well, that's just sad. There's a whole world of musicians out there whose 'cool date' may have long since expired, but whose music is enduring and timeless and really freaking fun.

My point? Don't just claim to love what you think you 'should' for whatever reason. Claim to love what you DO love. And try to love outside the box. Variety is the spice of life. You just might be surprised.

Facebook pages. I may have been doing a little light facebook stalking when I stumbled upon someone who had become a member of a "page." Their profile said : "______ likes 'Not Giving a F*ck.'" First of all, doesn't liking that page automatically negate the idea behind it? I mean really... liking something means you're actively expending energy on it, thereby actually giving a f*ck after all. But I digress.

A 16-year-old boy, with his whole life in front of him, thinks it's cool not to give a f*ck about anything. How incredibly sad is that? Without offering a dissertation-length social commentary, I have to say that this seems to be a growing epidemic among today's youth. Where, oh God, WHERE, are the young people who still give a f*ck? I understand that being a teenager with a life full of decisions ahead can be absolutely overwhelming. And in a world where we coddle, shelter, and - dare I say - disadvantage our youth by creating an environment of endless possibilities and choices for them (everyone gets a trophy just for playing, you can be absolutely anything, and mommy will take care of all the bad stuff for you), I can see how it would be even more overwhelming for a teenager right now. I can see how just not caring could in many ways be easier. At the risk of sounding like a cynical old hag, isn't it our job as adults to help kids understand that not everyone wins, not everyone gets to do what they want, and not everyone can live a life free of unpleasantness? They're so used to having everything just work out for them that they don't understand the value of effort anymore. They don't understand that working hard, making difficult choices and sacrifices, and experiencing a little bit of difficulty makes the end result seem that much sweeter. There is no motivation - intrinsic or extrinsic - because there is no real reward to them. (Or is it the other way around?) Life just happens to them, for them, and they just take it for what it is... because the cool thing to do is not give a f*ck. While I'd love to shake every single 12 to 24 year old out there until they understand that it isn't, or shouldn't be, that simple, I think the responsibility lies more with the adults who have allowed this to happen. I'm sure it's innocent - stemming from the yuppie idea of wanting your kids to have it easier, better, than you had it. I agree with that. No one should have to do it completely alone. They can't learn how to do it right if no one ever shows them or helps them along the way. But maybe, just maybe, they should lose, get their knees scraped, and generally let life kick them in the ass just a couple of times so that they appreciate the amazing opportunity they have to live in a world where you can communicate literally at the touch of a button almost instantaneously and where you truly can be anything you want as long as you actually DO give a f*ck.

hiatus

I made a promise when I started this blog: I won't write unless I have something interesting to say. I'm not really sure what's been happening in my life since November to prevent new interesting content from emerging, but it's pretty safe to say that I've kept my promise. Or at least, that's what I'm going to hide behind instead of owning up to my own pure forgetfulness or laziness about keeping up with this blog. It isn't so much that I haven't wanted to say anything, it's more that what I may have had to say was probably better kept to myself. Not that so many multitudes of people are reading this thing... but still. I do have a filter, despite some evidence to the contrary.

Anyway, with that being said, I'm going to try to make this a more regular part of my life again. I may not have a crazy husband or words of financial/political wisdom or funny baby stories to share, but I do have observations about the world that are worth putting down in print, even if I'm the only person who ever reads them.

In the true spirit of procrastination, I'll start tomorrow. :)

balls to the wall

I wouldn't usually be so crass in a public space... okay, who am I kidding... I probably would, but I'd usually do it a little more eloquently, or at least not in print. Welcome to what it's like in the space inside my head right now.

I've been thinking a lot lately. And not really the regular day-to-day tendency toward over-analysis that seems to be genetically hard-coded in female DNA and strongly correlated to elevated estrogen levels. In fact, I'm probably more balanced than most women you might run across when it comes to that sort of thing. But I also can't escape my training as a counselor, which invariably links any decision or choice with a lengthy process of dissection and eventual self-realization. This sounds like a bunch of crap, but I promise I have a point. I've been thinking about my life and the things that need to happen in order to get to where I want to be - not just in terms of career, but just sort of life in general: how do I reach the place where I finally feel that I've arrived?

In a lot of ways, it seems my life has been a pretty carefully calculated set of moves - some perfectly orchestrated, and others a perfectly orchestrated reaction to a move that maybe wasn't so perfect. Everything has served a purpose, and most of the time, I feel like I've known that purpose going in. I think that's sort of how I have to live in order to keep my head on straight. It has been about finding this purpose and sort of going for it, but always remembering not to take myself too seriously in the process. It's a precarious sort of balance that I have to strike in order to feel really at ease, and quite honestly, I've had a hard time finding that balance over the past few months.

I tend to think in black and white terms when it comes to work and things that are required of me, but I find a lot of gray in those areas that are not as clearly defined. And for me, those fuzzy areas probably make up the most important part of life - family, friends, connections, memories, emotions, adventures. Those are the places that aren't as easy to fit into a tight little box, and as a result, those are the things that tend to suffer when I'm feeling that being focused on a specific task is the only viable option. I've felt this way for awhile now, being very much focused on college and graduate school and then beginning to build a career. And each of these little steps will ultimately (and very methodically) lead to the elusive Dream Job. This part makes perfect sense. And while I may not always be happy while experiencing a step or growing pain, I know that it all works in the context of the big picture. But I have to wonder if those areas where I can't be so precise have been left behind to gather dust somewhere.

Part of it has to do with getting older and finding oneself in a position of needing to adapt to changing circumstances. But I think most of it really comes down to achieving a willingness to forego the need for parameters. Sometimes you just have to let it go. You have to meet people where they are. You have to wrap yourself up in the gray areas like a warm, fuzzy sweater. Simply put: you have to go balls to the wall. Life is too short to miss it because you spent too much time worrying about your next move. And it is most certainly too short not to laugh your way through it.

The problem with thought is that it can bog you down. But the awesome thing about it is that when you finally find the idea you've been searching for, you can just totally let it go...

Goodnight.

vacation and perspective

I've been away from work for 8.5 days now. It has been a nice break - much needed for some new perspective and clearing of the mind. Usually when I'm not at work, I'm thinking about work... trying to memorize dates, writing lists in my head, and sometimes even emailing myself so that I don't forget something. This week, I have only thought about work peripherally. I did have to follow up on one project, but I know everything else can wait until I get back on Tuesday. I've been amazed at how much I've accomplished this week - stuff I've been putting off for months - and how easy it was to do all of that and still have some time for fun without having a pesky job getting in my way. Of course, I realize how fortunate I am to have a job that affords me such luxuries (and I use that term VERY loosely). This school year is probably going to be hard. We're coming in from a very successful effort with our entering class, but now we have the expectations to maintain and exceed that success in the coming years. I'm looking forward to the new challenges and opportunities that will undoubtedly arise, but I definitely needed some time away in order to realize that.

This break has given me some time to exercise some creativity. I finally framed and hung some pictures I took in New England last summer, and I did a major art project for my bedroom. I'm not real happy with the current placement, so I may be re-doing that this week, but the basic stuff is there. I've also been reading, writing, baking some fun new creations, singing, and hanging out with people. The fun, relaxing stuff has been a good compliment to all the laundry and cleaning and organizing I've been doing. In any case, the sense of having accomplished things is certainly nice. And it has also given me the chance to recognize that I can't put that kind of stuff off anymore until "when I have time." All that stuff really needs to happen all the time in order to prevent feelings of stagnancy and being completely stuck. I'm looking forward to implementing that this year too.

I've been thinking a lot about ways to incorporate creativity into my life again. I've missed it a lot over the past couple years - not being regularly involved with creative ventures outside of work, and feeling too drained to really explore them. But I'm finding some stuff that is a little outside my usual scope, and I'm feeling pretty inspired by the whole creative process again. Looking forward to seeing where that will go.

(Side note, it's like 1am... and there is definitely something very loud happening outside in the street. Sounds like fireworks. But I'm a little hesitant to check it out... I'd like to come back in alive.)

My gosh, I'm tired. It's time to go to bed. I love awkward endings.

gone too soon

A lot of life has happened in the months since I last wrote. We've closed the door on another school year, and we're preparing to welcome another new class through the Gate of Opportunity. I can't believe that August is almost here. As I get older, the years go by more quickly. Sometimes almost too fast. They say time flies when you're having fun, but I don't think that's really been the case. I think time flies when you're so busy that you don't stop to enjoy anything. When your primary job is to plan events, it's hard not to live from project to project (and calendar date to calendar date). You exist in the space from one event to the next, and as soon as one finishes, you begin looking forward to the next one, frequently without the luxury of a moment to catch your breath. But I've had to make a promise to myself not to get so caught up that I forget to savor the moments that really matter. People in academia live life on a school calendar, so in a way, this is my New Year's. This year, I'm going to have some fun. We'll see if time flies by faster or if it slows down enough to be able to take it all in.

It's weird to look at my last entry knowing what would eventually happen to Mr. Jackson. It's even more strange to see myself talking about him in the past tense while he was still alive. Granted we hadn't heard much out of him for several years, so it makes sense... but in light of the whole comeback tour, where in rehearsal he was reportedly performing at the absolute top of his game, it's surprising to realize that in some ways he was already gone. For me, the saddest part is knowing that we won't know what may have come from that comeback. Sure, someone will re-mix all the rehearsal footage and previously unreleased recordings and make lots of money - I think Tupac and Biggie actually released more music in death than they did while they were alive - but I don't think that's the same as seeing what might have happened.

The tragedy of it all is that if he had lived, performed again, and somehow failed, we would know, but we probably wouldn't be able to have the same appreciation for his body of work. I've loved him as long as I can remember, even through all the weirdness, but in a way, I think his untimely death is probably the only thing that would allow others to see the talent and genius behind that strange facade. His was certainly a life beyond comprehension to us regular people, and his stardom came with a heavy price. I hope his family finds peace in the midst of an incredible loss.

blame it on the boogie

Okay, it's time to get down to the good stuff. Let's start with music.

If you know me at all, you know that music is probably in the top 5 words that describe me. I am never happier or more in tune (no pun intended) with myself and the world around me than when I am engulfed in amazing music. I guess I should start with my definition of amazing music. After all, it might be a little different than yours. For me to think of something as amazing, it must first contain at least one of the following: a beautiful melody, intricate harmonies, or interesting rhythmic combinations. It must be performed by someone who is a gifted singer, instrumentalist, or writer/composer. And finally, it must evoke one or more of the following: raw emotion, deep thought, or the inability to stay in a bad mood, no matter what has happened. :) (That's for the "this-is-cheesy-and-kind-of-sucks-but-it-just-makes-me-feel-good" category.) Not everything I love is "good"... but it has heart and soul, and it means something to me.

I'm sure I could launch into a treatise about technique and tone quality, expression and breath support... but that would be boring. Just keep in mind that my opinion on anything musical is completely colored by the fact that I spent 5 years getting a degree in music. And most of my friends are extremely talented musicians. They aren't all classically trained, but they share one thing - the ability to make good, interesting music. My life is blessed because the world is filled with people who can make music that has meaning and substance. Unfortunately, the world is also filled with parents who want so badly to keep from hurting their children's feelings that they encourage them to go make asses out of themselves on international television. Thank you, American Idol, for ruining our musical sensibilities.

I have a hard time appreciating that show for what it is because almost everyone I know is more talented than the people who win. Granted, I had a couple of seasons of must-watch-Idol-ism... but it just became exhausting. I'd rather sit in my living room listening to the incredible music of the Beatles, Nickel Creek, Mozart, Billy Joel, Queen, Morten Lauridsen, and Rodgers and Hammerstein on my iPod than watch American musical taste degenerate before my very eyes... which brings me to my next point: I accidentally stumbled upon the recent Michael Jackson night. You take someone as iconic as Michael Jackson, and it's bound to be either amazing or hideous. Most of what I saw was pretty close to hideous, though not entirely without merit. The good thing Idol did for me was remind me that I had about $17.10 left in iTunes gift card money, and I'd been waiting on something worth buying.

You wanna know what I bought? That's right folks - The Essential Michael Jackson. HELL YES. I should probably give you a little backstory on my love affair with MJ. He was my first musical crush. In fact, I can distinctly remember the first time I saw the Thriller video on MTV - we lived in Arizona then, which would have made me about 3 years old. I had nightmares for weeks (because of the werewolf scene and all the dancing dead people... and I'm not gonna lie - that Vincent Price monologue still kinda scares the bejeesus out of me), but I was hooked. Billie Jean, Beat It. I used to beg my mom to play the Thriller record, and I would hide in the closet when it got to the scary Vincent Price part. But I LOVED it. I grew up in the 80s, and Mr. Jackson was at his solo height in those years. I owned the movie Moonwalker, and I watched it at least once a week for several years. I even joined the MJ fan club. Seriously. Loved that man. I actually wanted to marry him. I realize now that our relationship never would have worked, being that I'm not usually attracted to plastic dolls. But I digress.

The point is that I grew up on the music of Michael Jackson, and despite the fact that his reputation is clouded by media fodder, he is one hell of a talented dude. Not every song is great. But how many people can say that they've never put out a bad song? No one who has made any money doing it, that's for sure. But what he gave the world is a catalogue full of interesting music - some of it has a message, while some of it is just plain entertaining. He was daring and innovative, melding traditional bubblegum pop with soul, R&B with disco, and so-called "black music" with metal. He was the first black artist to get regular rotation on MTV, and you could probably argue that his early videos helped MTV even stay on the air. (I'll save my rant on what MTV has become for another day...)

What we lack today in a world full of people like Britney Spears is actual musical integrity. Michael Jackson could sing and dance at the same time. You go back to the early Jackson 5 days, and there is no denying that he could sing his little 9-year-old ass off with more soul than most people have when they've lived for decades. It's been fun listening to the Essentials because I've been able to hear his journey from kid voice to young adult to the more gritty mature sound he developed. And the whole time, those pipes were smokin'. Now some people might laugh at me for writing all this, but I challenge you to find anyone else with his level of vocal ability, dance/choreography skills, and pure entertainment value... with a career spanning at least 4 decades... and the best-selling album of all time... in spite of everything we know that's weird about him. Yeah. Exactly.

So, in closing, I'd encourage you to step away from the American Idol, and go in search of some American (or even not-so-American) Classics. You just might be surprised by what you find... and you might be even more surprised that what you really loved 20 years ago is actually still good today.