Actually sat down and played some guitar this morning, wonder of wonders. I have about... 5 sets of lyrics written that need music, and I think I cracked three of them. It will be interesting to see what happens with these wintery songs.
It is bloody cold this morning, my gods... supposed to be even colder tomorrow. Iowa really sucks sometimes. It's so cold that it's dangerous to expose your skin for even a couple minutes. I guess I've inherited that sort of sick Iowa pride:
Hey, Winter, is that all you got? Come on! Bring it!
Hey, look what I lived through!
Yeah. We can be sooooooooo stupid. Whatever, it feels good to sit on the couch where it's... um... kinda warm though not exactly toasty, and make stuff up.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Back to it
Let's just say I've given myself some time to reflect upon the hard work I did a few weeks ago, assessing what I love and what I'm good at, listing the things I really don't want to do ever again (add to that original list scraping ice off my windshield, though that's probably not going away for a while). We won't say that I got too distracted by life, the universe and everything to actually bother to continue on this path. Diplomacy to self; it's an art.
There are some things I want to try, and I have no clue about whether they'll work. Whatever. I am ready to throw some things out there and see what sticks. I hesitate to reveal my hand at this point, simply because the couple of things I am most focused on are not completely ready yet, though now that I am focused, it won't take long.
Alright, rolling up my sleeves, rubbing my hands together rapidly, taking a deep breath...
There are some things I want to try, and I have no clue about whether they'll work. Whatever. I am ready to throw some things out there and see what sticks. I hesitate to reveal my hand at this point, simply because the couple of things I am most focused on are not completely ready yet, though now that I am focused, it won't take long.
Alright, rolling up my sleeves, rubbing my hands together rapidly, taking a deep breath...
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Resolutionless
I'm not a resolutions fan. I resolved not to make any resolutions. I guess I'm really not a December 31-January 1 fan, honestly.
I like to celebrate the winter Solstice. It makes a lot of sense. It's an astrological event that happens every year; it's rich in mythology, and is a handy "odometer" marker for the planet on it's trip around the sun. My family celebrates the Longest Night, the night before the Sun is born. We put up a little tree and put lights and ornaments on it; buy little bits of several really, really decadent and stinky cheeses and some of the expensive crackers from Italy; we cut up some fruit and veggies, lay out some chocolate and whatever sweet junk food we have inherited; I make up a batch of wassail; we light a bunch of candles, turn off all the lights and tell one of the stories of the rebirth of the Sun. Then we give each other presents, and wish each other a safe journey through the Longest Night. I'd like to tell you that I stay up all night to greet the newborn Sun when it rises, but I don't (me and sleep deprivation are a bad combination). But somebody usually gets up and watches the sunrise, and somebody else lights another candle at the moment of the Solstice, and everybody takes a pause to reflect in their own way.
And then we're done, and we move forward from that point, and it's all very peaceful and nice and very natural. You can almost hear the Celestial Odometer click over. So all y'all can go ahead on out and wait for a man-made shiny ball to drop down a cheesy pole. I'm way ahead of ya, already well into the new year.
I like to celebrate the winter Solstice. It makes a lot of sense. It's an astrological event that happens every year; it's rich in mythology, and is a handy "odometer" marker for the planet on it's trip around the sun. My family celebrates the Longest Night, the night before the Sun is born. We put up a little tree and put lights and ornaments on it; buy little bits of several really, really decadent and stinky cheeses and some of the expensive crackers from Italy; we cut up some fruit and veggies, lay out some chocolate and whatever sweet junk food we have inherited; I make up a batch of wassail; we light a bunch of candles, turn off all the lights and tell one of the stories of the rebirth of the Sun. Then we give each other presents, and wish each other a safe journey through the Longest Night. I'd like to tell you that I stay up all night to greet the newborn Sun when it rises, but I don't (me and sleep deprivation are a bad combination). But somebody usually gets up and watches the sunrise, and somebody else lights another candle at the moment of the Solstice, and everybody takes a pause to reflect in their own way.
And then we're done, and we move forward from that point, and it's all very peaceful and nice and very natural. You can almost hear the Celestial Odometer click over. So all y'all can go ahead on out and wait for a man-made shiny ball to drop down a cheesy pole. I'm way ahead of ya, already well into the new year.
Monday, December 21, 2009
So much for blogging every day, huh? I got real busy, and it got away from me. Not much better today -I can type a few words and then the phone rings or somebody needs something. Argh.
So from the sublime musings last week we did a header back into the real world... work work work. Which is good, because work = money, though it's rarely enough. Ah, grind stone is calling once again. See what I mean? Argh!
So from the sublime musings last week we did a header back into the real world... work work work. Which is good, because work = money, though it's rarely enough. Ah, grind stone is calling once again. See what I mean? Argh!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A newly planted garden
Last night I attended the inaugural meeting of the Paul Engle Center Writer's Group, a group of individuals that come together for inspiration, creative support and incentive to write more. People who love to write, songwriters, poets, people who write reviews and columns, memoir writers, graphic novelists, and even a photojournalist, got together and agreed to be a support team for each other. It is a rather wonderful idea, and I am excited to be part of it.
One of the members, Dean Rathje, talked about Paul Engle, Grant Wood, Marvin Cone and Jay Sigmund and the relationship they had with each other, how they all inspired and influenced each other, even though two were writers and two were painters. There used to be a wonderful Community of Artists, centered in this very place. We all took a breath and realized that we could be that for each other.
So now, words are flying through my mind like wild notes; ideas vie for my attention like children; I am ravenous for my work like it's a long separated lover. I don't know what will come of this association, but I am thirsty for this creative brew!
One of the members, Dean Rathje, talked about Paul Engle, Grant Wood, Marvin Cone and Jay Sigmund and the relationship they had with each other, how they all inspired and influenced each other, even though two were writers and two were painters. There used to be a wonderful Community of Artists, centered in this very place. We all took a breath and realized that we could be that for each other.
So now, words are flying through my mind like wild notes; ideas vie for my attention like children; I am ravenous for my work like it's a long separated lover. I don't know what will come of this association, but I am thirsty for this creative brew!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
A whack on the top of the haid
While loading my laptop and lunch into my car yesterday, the wind somehow caught the rear door of my station wagon and whacked it down on my head - the sharp cornery part of the latch housing dug into the top of my skull. It was so cold outside that the tears froze on my face in the bitter, bitter wind.
Commence tiny violin solo.
Interestingly, it set off a frenzy of creativity. I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about the awful holiday music we're force fed at this time of the year, and started hatching a bit of a scheme to do something to fight the pablum. So the question to me is, WHY do most people write sappy, stupid, awful holiday music? Why does it have to have saccharine melody and ridiculously cheery harmony, and what is UP with the jinglie bells? Bad and wrong people.
Let's dig into some holiday history, shall we? Celebration of the winter solstice has been going on since some observant early early early humans noticed that the sun moves in the sky every day. One morning you wake up and step out of the cave and the sun is over there, and a few days later you wake up and it's over there. Well, surely, the Sun is a God, and hey! God! Where are you going? Why's it so cold? Build fires to get His attention! Do something! Oh look! It's working! He stopped! Hey! Let's party!
That's the impulse that sends a little shiver down my spine at the first sight of snowflakes, the first whiff of evergreen, the first touch of bitter wind that reaches down from the North to freeze heart and soul. But I can think of very, very few holiday songs that celebrate that - truly embrace that older, wilder side of the season. The life-or-death drive to survive it, to stay warm enough and have enough food laid by just to keep waking up every day until winter loses it's grip and things start to thaw. That's some powerful and (seemingly) completely untapped mojo that our modern world could use about now.
We have been feeling that a bit here in the Midwest lately. Damn it's cold. Ten below overnight with raging, howling winds that take your breath right away. During the long nights we feed the fire and pile on the blankets. Going out is exhausting. Staying in is little better. We tread lightly over the ice that now covers much of our daily Universe, braced against the wind that threatens to knock us right off our feet.
So why don't we embrace the fact that we DO it every year? Most of us don't tell the tale we live to tell. Especially not in song. I think maybe it's time to change that.
Commence tiny violin solo.
Interestingly, it set off a frenzy of creativity. I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about the awful holiday music we're force fed at this time of the year, and started hatching a bit of a scheme to do something to fight the pablum. So the question to me is, WHY do most people write sappy, stupid, awful holiday music? Why does it have to have saccharine melody and ridiculously cheery harmony, and what is UP with the jinglie bells? Bad and wrong people.
Let's dig into some holiday history, shall we? Celebration of the winter solstice has been going on since some observant early early early humans noticed that the sun moves in the sky every day. One morning you wake up and step out of the cave and the sun is over there, and a few days later you wake up and it's over there. Well, surely, the Sun is a God, and hey! God! Where are you going? Why's it so cold? Build fires to get His attention! Do something! Oh look! It's working! He stopped! Hey! Let's party!
That's the impulse that sends a little shiver down my spine at the first sight of snowflakes, the first whiff of evergreen, the first touch of bitter wind that reaches down from the North to freeze heart and soul. But I can think of very, very few holiday songs that celebrate that - truly embrace that older, wilder side of the season. The life-or-death drive to survive it, to stay warm enough and have enough food laid by just to keep waking up every day until winter loses it's grip and things start to thaw. That's some powerful and (seemingly) completely untapped mojo that our modern world could use about now.
We have been feeling that a bit here in the Midwest lately. Damn it's cold. Ten below overnight with raging, howling winds that take your breath right away. During the long nights we feed the fire and pile on the blankets. Going out is exhausting. Staying in is little better. We tread lightly over the ice that now covers much of our daily Universe, braced against the wind that threatens to knock us right off our feet.
So why don't we embrace the fact that we DO it every year? Most of us don't tell the tale we live to tell. Especially not in song. I think maybe it's time to change that.
Monday, December 14, 2009
What don't I love?
I don't like to hate things... I don't like to be a whiner or complain endlessly about stuff, so hopefully I can do a brief, logical inventory of stuff I am not good at, don't like to do and never want to do again.
sales or telemarketing
customer service
answering any sort of "hotline"
reporting numbers and data
tracking things like the effectiveness of marketing plans or ad campaigns
attending sales meetings
looking for needles in haystacks
I know that I am an impatient person, cannot spend hours and hours looking through records or files or compiling data or whatever; my attention starts to wander quickly, I get surly and actually start to experience light-headedness, nausea, headache or severe hunger. It can utterly blow the rest of a day. Well-meaning folks have sometimes complained (ahem) about this particular personality trait, and all I can say is, I have never had any control over it. It's not that I want to "get my way," or that something has to be entirely about me and what I like... I just am not the kind of person who can DO that. Even with things I do like. Dyslexics often say they feel physically ill when confronted with a page of music notation, or even in severe cases just a page full of words, so I can't imagine that my "affliction" is an indication of a major character flaw; it's just an honest brain quirk.
Another quirk (let's be generous) is that if I have a job, it has to be meaningful to somebody or I become increasingly despondent, unengaged and utterly lose interest. It doesn't even have to be relevant to my situation personally. If I can contribute to somebody's quality of life, I'm good. It makes my time mean something. If it's just sales of something completely irrelevant to that basic quality of life, fuhgedaboudit. For example, being a relay operator for the deaf - that's hugely relevant to major quality of life issues for a poorly served population, so I'm incredibly happy doing that. Additionally, writing for Premier Guitar combines my two major passions, so I love that as much as I love breathing. Being able to write for Premier Guitar while between relay phone calls is perfection. On the other hand, selling consulting services to institutions that contribute enormously to the debt load of a population just getting a start in life, no thanks... couldn't do it no matter how hard I tried.
The other thing I'd like to work my way around is the whole making-megabucks-for-somebody-else-and-getting-paid-squat-to-do-it thing. That sucks and I don't ever want to do it again. I think I would be okay with making megabucks for me, but would need to try it to find out for sure.
sales or telemarketing
customer service
answering any sort of "hotline"
reporting numbers and data
tracking things like the effectiveness of marketing plans or ad campaigns
attending sales meetings
looking for needles in haystacks
I know that I am an impatient person, cannot spend hours and hours looking through records or files or compiling data or whatever; my attention starts to wander quickly, I get surly and actually start to experience light-headedness, nausea, headache or severe hunger. It can utterly blow the rest of a day. Well-meaning folks have sometimes complained (ahem) about this particular personality trait, and all I can say is, I have never had any control over it. It's not that I want to "get my way," or that something has to be entirely about me and what I like... I just am not the kind of person who can DO that. Even with things I do like. Dyslexics often say they feel physically ill when confronted with a page of music notation, or even in severe cases just a page full of words, so I can't imagine that my "affliction" is an indication of a major character flaw; it's just an honest brain quirk.
Another quirk (let's be generous) is that if I have a job, it has to be meaningful to somebody or I become increasingly despondent, unengaged and utterly lose interest. It doesn't even have to be relevant to my situation personally. If I can contribute to somebody's quality of life, I'm good. It makes my time mean something. If it's just sales of something completely irrelevant to that basic quality of life, fuhgedaboudit. For example, being a relay operator for the deaf - that's hugely relevant to major quality of life issues for a poorly served population, so I'm incredibly happy doing that. Additionally, writing for Premier Guitar combines my two major passions, so I love that as much as I love breathing. Being able to write for Premier Guitar while between relay phone calls is perfection. On the other hand, selling consulting services to institutions that contribute enormously to the debt load of a population just getting a start in life, no thanks... couldn't do it no matter how hard I tried.
The other thing I'd like to work my way around is the whole making-megabucks-for-somebody-else-and-getting-paid-squat-to-do-it thing. That sucks and I don't ever want to do it again. I think I would be okay with making megabucks for me, but would need to try it to find out for sure.
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