Bread
Get back to where you once belonged
Life has been like that lately.
I haven't had much to say, blog wise, but I've been terribly busy anyway, I suppose getting back to the business of pleasure. I won't go into it all tonight, but the abbreviated version is that I changed jobs, a hard but necessary decision, and practially seamlessly transitioned into a new, better, equally compelling but much healthier work environment. That was like a domino falling into a long row, and with it came much looking hard, much truth telling, much better frame of mind, better relationship stuff, and a general melting away of walls of defense I had erected around myself to deal with the stress of my former job. Walls that, admittedly, I had not meant to allow to extend so fully into other aspects of my life and my interactions with my important people. Things are not perfect right now, but I'm happy at work, and remembering how much simple things make me really happy. Soap bubbles. Morgan laughing about an imaginary mouse. A woman in a business suit busting out her best dance moves on the train at 8:15 in the morning as she grooves to her ipod. The landscape of Manhattan, integrating itself into my everyday scenery once again. I had really missed being in the city everyday, and I feel like a part of myself that I boxed off is coming back to me now.
It's crazy how much of an effect a stressful work environment can have on the rest of your life, kind of like blood seeping through your favorite pair of jeans. You wash them, you still wear them, but you've always got that insecurity that someone can see the stain, even if there's nothing really there at all.
I let it do that to me, I think. The insecurity, the bleeding. There wasn't really anything there at all, but I let it creep in. And grow. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about, and that's okay. For now, just the happiness counts.
More to come, but for now, soap bubbles and a silly grin sustain.
Take care, people. ¶ 11:49 PM 0 comments
Thursday, September 28, 2006
I was doing the dishes tonight, something I hate, and when I picked up the bottle of dish liquid and squeezed it, a thousand little mini bubbles shot out of the spout and floated around my face. They were so small they were moving with my breath, in a swirl, all around me. I laughed out loud. Four more times I picked up the bottle, and every time I was treated to a shot of tiny little shimmering soap bubbles.Life has been like that lately.
I haven't had much to say, blog wise, but I've been terribly busy anyway, I suppose getting back to the business of pleasure. I won't go into it all tonight, but the abbreviated version is that I changed jobs, a hard but necessary decision, and practially seamlessly transitioned into a new, better, equally compelling but much healthier work environment. That was like a domino falling into a long row, and with it came much looking hard, much truth telling, much better frame of mind, better relationship stuff, and a general melting away of walls of defense I had erected around myself to deal with the stress of my former job. Walls that, admittedly, I had not meant to allow to extend so fully into other aspects of my life and my interactions with my important people. Things are not perfect right now, but I'm happy at work, and remembering how much simple things make me really happy. Soap bubbles. Morgan laughing about an imaginary mouse. A woman in a business suit busting out her best dance moves on the train at 8:15 in the morning as she grooves to her ipod. The landscape of Manhattan, integrating itself into my everyday scenery once again. I had really missed being in the city everyday, and I feel like a part of myself that I boxed off is coming back to me now.
It's crazy how much of an effect a stressful work environment can have on the rest of your life, kind of like blood seeping through your favorite pair of jeans. You wash them, you still wear them, but you've always got that insecurity that someone can see the stain, even if there's nothing really there at all.
I let it do that to me, I think. The insecurity, the bleeding. There wasn't really anything there at all, but I let it creep in. And grow. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about, and that's okay. For now, just the happiness counts.
More to come, but for now, soap bubbles and a silly grin sustain.
Take care, people. ¶ 11:49 PM 0 comments
Great Music Monday: Dixie Chicks National Anthem
Great Music Monday...
The Dixie Chicks sing the National Anthem
Patriotism is a word that has always felt slightly alienating to me. Growing up, the Patriots were a sports team at the middle school, and the word evoked the mental image of drums beating and screaming sports fans packed into Friday night stadiums, and parents and school administrators who extended a universe of special priviledges to kids who walked around like arrogant assholes most of the time. It had nothing to do with me and my bookish, geeky life.
When I got a little older, notions of patriotism coincided with the mainstream emergence of extremist militia groups beginning to make themselves known in places like Montana, Colorado and Tennessee. Patriotism, if prevalent enough to be called into identity politics, equalled radical zealotry and violence in the name of country.
After 9/11, patriotism took on a whole new frightening meaning. With one sentence, with one damning declaration, President Bush ushered us all into a new America where thoughtful political discourse is treasonous and questioning the actions of our administration is met with a love it, leave it or face vicious death threats from total strangers response.
"If you're not with us, you're with the terrorists."
In other words, if our vengeance isn't your agenda, let vengeance rain down on you as well. And rain it has. Patriotism has come to stand for a campaign of dominance, violence, oppression, torture and bullying militarism. The hate filled, devisive rhetoric of the new American patriots has done violence to us, our countrymen, our nationalism and our meat and potatoes.
This isn't my America, that isn't my flag, these aren't my countrymen and that is not my patriotism.
And so it is that I come to today's music selection. Somewhere between the hate mongering right wing "patriotic" garbage and the first real thoughts of becoming an ex-patriot, two years ago this song came across my headphones, and I fell in love -
-in love with the simple beauty of a songwriter's tribute to the land of the free and the home of the brave.
On this the five year anniversary of 9/11, I present a little bit of American pride.
Bush's America isn't my America, and I won't let my America be stolen from me.
Dear readers, the National Anthem.
¶ 10:33 PM 0 comments
Monday, September 11, 2006
(slightly late)Great Music Monday...
The Dixie Chicks sing the National Anthem
Patriotism is a word that has always felt slightly alienating to me. Growing up, the Patriots were a sports team at the middle school, and the word evoked the mental image of drums beating and screaming sports fans packed into Friday night stadiums, and parents and school administrators who extended a universe of special priviledges to kids who walked around like arrogant assholes most of the time. It had nothing to do with me and my bookish, geeky life.
When I got a little older, notions of patriotism coincided with the mainstream emergence of extremist militia groups beginning to make themselves known in places like Montana, Colorado and Tennessee. Patriotism, if prevalent enough to be called into identity politics, equalled radical zealotry and violence in the name of country.
After 9/11, patriotism took on a whole new frightening meaning. With one sentence, with one damning declaration, President Bush ushered us all into a new America where thoughtful political discourse is treasonous and questioning the actions of our administration is met with a love it, leave it or face vicious death threats from total strangers response.
"If you're not with us, you're with the terrorists."
In other words, if our vengeance isn't your agenda, let vengeance rain down on you as well. And rain it has. Patriotism has come to stand for a campaign of dominance, violence, oppression, torture and bullying militarism. The hate filled, devisive rhetoric of the new American patriots has done violence to us, our countrymen, our nationalism and our meat and potatoes.
This isn't my America, that isn't my flag, these aren't my countrymen and that is not my patriotism.
And so it is that I come to today's music selection. Somewhere between the hate mongering right wing "patriotic" garbage and the first real thoughts of becoming an ex-patriot, two years ago this song came across my headphones, and I fell in love -
-in love with the simple beauty of a songwriter's tribute to the land of the free and the home of the brave.
On this the five year anniversary of 9/11, I present a little bit of American pride.
Bush's America isn't my America, and I won't let my America be stolen from me.
Dear readers, the National Anthem.
¶ 10:33 PM 0 comments
Great Music Monday: Nina Simone
Nina Simone
Nina Simone is someone whose music I have heard my whole life, but it's only been in the last few years I was able to truly hear and appreciate her for the gifted artist she is.
My first introductions to Nina were through old records in my family's house, records of her doing jazz standards, all of which I generally preferred other versions of.
A few years ago, I heard her doing a beautiful and greatly sorrowful version of I Shall Be Released, a song I could listen to a hundred times (particularly when done by The Band). The intimacy in her voice, the sadness, the slowness of the song haunted me. When she sings, she takes her time, and listening to her you know she feels, deeply, every note that comes out of her. She uses music and silence together to create a song, and the result, for me, is always a strong emotional pull into the music.
She recreates any song that she sings, giving it new dimensions of meaning and heart.
Below are two videos;
The first is of her 1984 performance Live at Ronnie Scott's. The song is If You Knew. It's deeply, deeply affecting and vulnerable, and I'm amazed at her willingness to live inside such wrenching emotion, even just for a song, and then to do it in front of an audience, so real, so stripped. Just amazing. Amazing.
The second is a recording of her covering Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles. It's probably my favorite version of that song. She brings a quietness, an intimacy and reassurance that makes me believe, really believe that everything is going to be all right when I hear it. Her piano work is light and the overall instrumental affect of the song is beautiful and comforting and hopeful, and it goes to a place beneath the surface in a way the Beatles never did. (Although I like their version as well, it doesn't hold a candle to Simone's work here). I added photographs of her to the audio track to qualify it as a video, lol. Some of them are album covers, others images of her at various stages throughout her career.
Nina died at age 70 in 2003. Her work never will. Enjoy.
If You Knew
Here Comes the Sun
¶ 10:59 PM 0 comments
Monday, September 04, 2006
Nina Simone
Nina Simone is someone whose music I have heard my whole life, but it's only been in the last few years I was able to truly hear and appreciate her for the gifted artist she is.
My first introductions to Nina were through old records in my family's house, records of her doing jazz standards, all of which I generally preferred other versions of.
A few years ago, I heard her doing a beautiful and greatly sorrowful version of I Shall Be Released, a song I could listen to a hundred times (particularly when done by The Band). The intimacy in her voice, the sadness, the slowness of the song haunted me. When she sings, she takes her time, and listening to her you know she feels, deeply, every note that comes out of her. She uses music and silence together to create a song, and the result, for me, is always a strong emotional pull into the music.
She recreates any song that she sings, giving it new dimensions of meaning and heart.
Below are two videos;
The first is of her 1984 performance Live at Ronnie Scott's. The song is If You Knew. It's deeply, deeply affecting and vulnerable, and I'm amazed at her willingness to live inside such wrenching emotion, even just for a song, and then to do it in front of an audience, so real, so stripped. Just amazing. Amazing.
The second is a recording of her covering Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles. It's probably my favorite version of that song. She brings a quietness, an intimacy and reassurance that makes me believe, really believe that everything is going to be all right when I hear it. Her piano work is light and the overall instrumental affect of the song is beautiful and comforting and hopeful, and it goes to a place beneath the surface in a way the Beatles never did. (Although I like their version as well, it doesn't hold a candle to Simone's work here). I added photographs of her to the audio track to qualify it as a video, lol. Some of them are album covers, others images of her at various stages throughout her career.
Nina died at age 70 in 2003. Her work never will. Enjoy.
If You Knew
Here Comes the Sun
¶ 10:59 PM 0 comments
