This past week started off with me having a catch up chat with one of my former colleagues. I had wanted to speak with him before my departure from the company, but he got busy with his own work tasks, and it took him until last Monday to give me a ring when he had a spare moment.
He had not picked up on the fact that I had left the company, so was a little surprised and sorry to see me go. We worked well together over the years, and shared very similar work styles (and frustrations). During our call he told me about his latest frustrations and challenges, and once again (as if I really needed it), I was reminded that this new adventure is going to be a good one, at the very least because I can leave behind all of the negativity of the not so pleasant elements of my last job.
That night, I slept really really well, and woke up the following morning feeling really refreshed. I was a little suprised that I had woken later than normal, but quickly noted that normal is kind of fluid right now. After all, it is not as if I need to be up and at 'em bright and early each morning; there is no place I actually need to be. Come to think of it, there really isn't anywhere I can be, right now, other than at home.
This does not mean I have nothing to do. As part of the ranks of the unemployed, I need to spend x hours per week looking for work, and this week, just like last week, I have stayed on track. Of course, what exactly constitutes "searching for work?" Is it sitting at a computer reading through various online job boards? Is it sending out a bunch of emails to various recipients requesting that they review my CV?
Well, those things are part of it, but I am also taking time to quietly think about a variety of things: the right industry for me, how I want to approach new opportunties, and most importantly, what kind of job is going to help create a better balance for me?
Each day I spend some time sitting in the recliner in my living room and just let my thoughts flow.
It's a pleasant experience, made even more so by the gentle "whssshhhh" sound that my little airwick product that shoots out a little mist of scent every nine minutes.
Several years ago I purchased the product on a whim while I was browsing in the grocery store. I figured it would help out in my kitchen, where smoking is permitted, so long as the balcony door is open. It proved effective, and I have continued to buy refills as I need them. I even bought a second thingy for use in another room in the flat.
The problem I have encountered, however, is that my favorite flavors are not readily available in my local supermarket. There are a couple of scents that I really like, and others that are okay, but not fantastic. Not surprisingly, the scents that I most like are the ones that seem the most natural. Thus, the ocean spray scent is not really a favorite, nor is the one that "smells like Grandmother baked cookies," Both just strike me as a little artificial. I much prefer something that smells a lot more natural.
Natural scent is not always a good thing, either. Once I went to the pub immediately after putting some tea tree oil (a scent that I quite like) on a small wound. True, tea tree is rather pungent, which is why one of the bartenders exclaimed "Aggh! What is that? That smells like crap!" soon after I had walked in the door. I was kind of glad that some other people had walked in with me, so that he never discovered who the offender was.
Then again, I am prepared to make some pretty strong arguments that tea tree is a much more pleasant alternate to some of the odors that tend to linger in the same pub. All too often, I can recall moments where I have been in the jacks during a full house, including some poor soul in the stall. Those of us at the Pissoire are all frantically trying to hurry, and I am quite sure we are all thinking the same thing, "Oh my gosh, what happened to that guy?"
One of the few times I have been able to make my friend Mono laugh out loud was when he told me about an odoriferous encounter he had with one of the pub staff, a girl who had some unfortunate body odor. I happened to experience the eye opening odor a couple of nights later when she was next on shift, and the following day I remarked to Mono, "Let's just hope that it was teen age spirit..."
But I digress.
My most favorite scent happens to be citrus, primarily from orange. I absolutely love it. Years ago I happened to be in a Body Shop and came across a shower gel with an orange scent. I stocked up, and was really really pleased. Others were, too, it seems. Once, I got sort of picked up in a bar, which was rather surprising. Her opening line was "Wow, you smell really good," and I was momentarily taken aback until I glanced at her t-shirt, which had "I love oranges" printed on the front.
Sadly, nothing really else really came from that evening, except for a mental note to myself to stock back up on my mandarin shower stuff. This actually has become more complicated than I expected, as said shop now only offers that flavor through their online shop, and it costs 3x more than their normal line of products.
I do tend to peruse the available flavors on the shower gel aisle, always hoping to find another "super orangey" product for use in my shower; one that is in my price range. Sometimes I can find something that is a bit orangey, but more often than not, usually only lemon or lime are available.
But that's okay, because I like those scents, also.
During one of those shower gel shopping trips, I found myself in the airwick section, and discovered a new scent: mandarine and limette. I won't call it "hoarding," but I did buy two 2packs, and returned home to refill the units in my kitchen and living room.
It's awesome.
It just makes thing seem naturally fresh and orangey.
So, earlier this week while I was on the recliner, my mediation session was quickly heading towards a napping session, but one of those cool nap experiences where you are so deeply relaxed but not completely out of it. The whole time I lay there, my internal clock was counting the 9 minutes, so that I could hear the little "whssshhhh" when the airwick sent another little burst of citrus into the room.
It was so comfortable, and my thoughts wandered. At one point as I enjoyed the Duft, I realized that the smell reminded me of my favorite breakfast cereal, Fruity Pebbles. Ironically, this is not a cereal known for natural flavors or natural anything, other than the obvious ability to enable a young kid to eat three bowls in a single sitting, then suddenly be able to run 2 miles to the grocery store and back in record time.
I have not had Fruity Pebbles in many years, but I like the way that this lingering Duft gives me just a little fresh (and citrusy) reminder.
I won't question how "natural" the scent from my airwick is, but simply enjoy that it seems natural. I don't think it's toxic; only a few times have I inadvertently gotten too close to the dispenser (while checking to see if it really was dispensing every nine minutes) and gotten a surprising faceful of citrus. As one could expect, it doesn't taste anywhere near as good as it smells.
Fortunately, the ice cream section of my supermarket has just started offering, yep, you gussed it, "zesty lemon and mandarin."
I must say, sitting in a living room with a little burst of citrus shooting out every 9 minutes and enjoying a little container of a similarly flavored ice cream is a rather nice way to spend an evening, especially if you are watching a modernised German version of "The Love Boat,"
Which is what I did a couple of nights during this eventful week. In one of the episodes, a recently fired doctor was on the cruise, but during a beach party was called into action to help a woman suffering from a severe stomach problem. The plot really thickened as they all discovered that they would have to do emergency surgery in the middle of nowhere. Out came the "portable emergency surgery kit," (which apparently was stored on board the ship in the captain's quarters) and the doctor, along with the captain and the social director (who was not on cocaine) proceeded to find a quiet place in a hut and perform the needed operation. Meanwhile, the other passengers were entertained by learning to dance salsa a little further down the beach.
The captain made the executive decision that they would all stay overnight on the beach, as the patient needed a little more time to recover from the op. So, everyone else drank cocktails, and the next day they all were able to reboard the ship and continue on to their next location.
Upon arriving at that next location, the doctor and his wife parted company with the ship, passengers and patient, so as to meet up with his son, who was living in the region with his family. The doctor and son went to a building site (where the son worked), during which time a worker had an unspecified accident.
Again, the doctor was called into action, but he quickly realized that he did not have the tools needed to take care of the emergency. Fortunately, the son's father-in-law was a local physician, and despite the rural location, happened to be in the vicinity. He quickly assessed the situation, then grabbed a coconut, some tubing from the jeep they were using, and carved a needle out of a plant stalk, then went on to do some sort of coconut milk transfusion on the poor guy lying there in the rubble, and minutes later, order was restored.
That all seems natural enough, right?
"whssshhhh"
The sweet overload to my senses prompted me to start watching another series, even though the evening was growing late. I stumbled onto a Scandanavian Noir series, and to help build the complete contrast, I almost made myself some late night nachos, thinking that a little salt would help offset the sweet.
However, I got caught up in the program and quickly forgot about snacks. I had expected the program to be just as dark and bleak as all the other great Nordic shows are, but within a few minutes I realized that I was actually watching a sort of spoof of said shows, and a really great spoof at that.
As much as I like this genre, it really is at the other end of the "hey, lets go on a cruise and find out we want to swap wifes after 15 years of being friends and neighbors" program spectrum. I personally like the extremes, though sometimes seeing someone get their face melted off in a barrel of boiling water in a little village just outside of Stockholm can be a bit much.
This spoof was incredibly funny, particularly since I am so familiar with other works, most of which received some sort of nod during this program. For example, the detectives were preparing to sneak into a dark and scary house of the suspect who had just knocked someone's head off (with, ironically, a coconut) and they all agreed to use the code word "Wallander" if any of them got into trouble.
The whole series (8 episodes, 30 minutes each) is filled with little funny suprises like that, all while following a standard police procedural format.
Of course I stayed up to watch the whole thing and finally went to bed just before dawn, never having known that the Swedish have such wonderful senses of humor.
I kept all of this in mind later on in the week as I tried to get some documentation together for the Arbeitsamt. I got very anxious as I struggled to make sense of the complicated German system. Fortunately a couple of friends came to my support, helping with the language but more importantly, just providing encouragement. It wasn't quite as easy as performing surgery on a beach with a Planters Punch in my hand, but I still got it done, and am quite prepared to provide a postive report on my productivity to the local civil servants.
My fresh start is, "whssshhhh," staying fresh.
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, May 17, 2020
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Rereading But Not Repeating
This is definitely the year for firsts, as in, "Hey, this is the first time I have ever worn a protective mask to the grocery store," or "Gee, I have never gone 2 months without hugging someone."
Or, "Gosh, I sure am hearing a lot of people use the words 'absurd' and 'unprecendented' in the same sentence, and they keep repeating the same sentence over and over."
On the subject of firsts, I will add a personal feat: for the first time in my life, I have read a series of books (15 in total), and then immediately reread them. Actually, I just finished rereading the 13th book this morning, and helped answer the question that I had been contemplating since I started over with the first book last month.
Why would I do that?
Sure, I love to read, always have. My parents would sometimes have to beg me to stop reading and go outside and play. I always loved going to the library, and it might have been because of me that my local public library put a limit on the number of books that one could check-out at a time.
True, I am also a fast reader. I am not talking Evelyn Wood speed, but the phrase "zip through" definitely comes to mind.
Since I grew up in a family of readers, avid reading seemed normal to me. Therefore, I was always a little surprised to meet someone who did not read with the same enthusiasm. As I have grown through the years, I have the fortune of befriending a broad spectrum of people, some of which are equally passionate readers, while others are closer to the "nope, only gonna read as little as possible" end of the scale. And all of that is just fine.
I do, of course, recognize when it is appropriate to discuss books, or authors, or the pleasures of reading, and I accept that not everyone is going to have such an interest. (I'll skip right on to the next point, since I have already touched on my feelings about book clubs in a recent post).
As much as I read, I sometimes struggle for new material, much the way many people are frustrated that during the present climate, there is nothing new on Hulu or Netflix or whatever. I am actually having a little problem with that, too, but that's for another post.
Meanwhile, over the years I have identified with several books that are what I call "keepers," The books are so great that they have to be held on to; one day they will need to be reread.
The Hardy Boys series comes to mind, as do all the Ian Rankin and Henning Mankell novels. And the Harry Potter books, I certainly can't leave those out.
Excluding the Hardy Boys (though no offense is intended), those other authors created such a lasting impression that I went out of my way to gather the collections, even though I had limited space in my apartment at the time. Then, years later, I moved to Europe, and what did I do?
I bought the collections again, so now I have two sets. The books are that important to me, and yes, I have reread them all through the years. Sometimes more than once.
Several of my fellow reader friends have always shied away from rereading a book, usually saying something like, "I read that already."
Fair point, but what's the difference between rereading a book, or watching a movie again, or a rerun of a television show? Or listening to a great song (She Sells Sanctuary), come to that?
For starters (I almost wrote firsts), I think it has to do with attention span and mindset. Listening to music comes easy, and -enter your favorite song here- gets played repeatedly on your stereo. Okay, maybe you don't listen with the same frequency as you might have done while in college, but normally you went a long time before eventually thinking, "Yep, this song is overplayed."
And even then, you had no problem hearing the song again a couple of days or weeks later. And years later, you'd pull the album back out for yet another listen.
Although I am watching a bit more TV than I would normally want to, I will kind of dismiss TV programming from this discussion, particularly sitcoms and long running dramas. Of course, I rewatched 7 complete series of the Andy Griffith Show last summer, and I also own the complete DVD collections of things like Inspector Morse, Life on Mars, and a few others.
Movies are a little easier to talk about. We all know someone who has watched Star Wars several thousand times, and for those folks that grew up in the 80s, just about everbody has a copy of the Breakfast Club, St. Elmo's Fire, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. And, everyone has their seasonal favorites, especially at Christmas.
It never escaped me that some of my friends who made the comment about rereading books were the same ones that made sure to watch a movie 50 times.
The answer is very simple. We love these songs, these movies, and even the shows. And we want to repeat the experience of how we felt when listening and viewing. (re-read my last post if you need a reminder.
This makes perfect sense to me. I love to re-experience these things, too.
But why reread an entire detective series immediately after finishing it?
Because it is so incredibly great. And even though the experience is equally strong, it is not identical to the first time.
This particular series is written by a Candadian woman who is about 10 years older than me. Her personal story is pretty compelling, and she seems like a really really nice person. But one who possesses an incredible ability to enrapture the reader with her character development, plot lines, and thought-provoking style. She subtly includes some pop culture references with such nonchalance that you almost miss it. More than once in the series, I have actually burst out laughing at a particular sentence or quip or incident.
As a series of crime stories, her works are right up there with many of the greats, and to be specific, are on par with Agatha Christie.
But, what I think sets this author apart is her ability to develop characters so intimately that you feel like you know them. All of them.
The author, herself, describes the setting, the location, the characters as a "state of mind."
For me, she brings such a distinctive voice. It's almost overwhelming.
When I was in college, one of my professors invited me to her office for a meeting to discuss one of my papers about a poet we were studying. During our session, the professor indicated, with great curiousity, that she was surprised that my own voice was coming through my writing, ironically about the author's work and writing style. The professor went on to say that it was very unusual (unique, perhaps) for someone like me to have such a voice at such a young age. I initially took offense at her remarks, as I gathered that she was just dismissing me as one of those students who would go back to his dorm room and listen to an album by the Cult, then write a blog post about one of the songs 30 years later.
But I realized she was right.
And it left an impression.
As a result, when I encounter literary works where all the stars align and I find myself totally engaged, I tend to want to hold on. And relive the experience. It won't be the same as the first time, but that's precisely what I look for.
My sister gave me the 14th book of the series at Christmas, and after reading it, I immediately bought the first 13 books, then purchased the 15th book (which wasn't available until a couple of months ago). I zipped through the first 13 books during the first part of this year, managed to get the 15th book, and as I finished it, knew I needed to go back to the beginning, just to see how the new experience would be.
Sure, I know how the books end, but I don't know what is going to happen.
I am missing my mother today, but am also celebrating her life, as I am with my sister and grandmother, and all the other mothers out there.
keep the faith
bryan
Or, "Gosh, I sure am hearing a lot of people use the words 'absurd' and 'unprecendented' in the same sentence, and they keep repeating the same sentence over and over."
On the subject of firsts, I will add a personal feat: for the first time in my life, I have read a series of books (15 in total), and then immediately reread them. Actually, I just finished rereading the 13th book this morning, and helped answer the question that I had been contemplating since I started over with the first book last month.
Why would I do that?
Sure, I love to read, always have. My parents would sometimes have to beg me to stop reading and go outside and play. I always loved going to the library, and it might have been because of me that my local public library put a limit on the number of books that one could check-out at a time.
True, I am also a fast reader. I am not talking Evelyn Wood speed, but the phrase "zip through" definitely comes to mind.
Since I grew up in a family of readers, avid reading seemed normal to me. Therefore, I was always a little surprised to meet someone who did not read with the same enthusiasm. As I have grown through the years, I have the fortune of befriending a broad spectrum of people, some of which are equally passionate readers, while others are closer to the "nope, only gonna read as little as possible" end of the scale. And all of that is just fine.
I do, of course, recognize when it is appropriate to discuss books, or authors, or the pleasures of reading, and I accept that not everyone is going to have such an interest. (I'll skip right on to the next point, since I have already touched on my feelings about book clubs in a recent post).
As much as I read, I sometimes struggle for new material, much the way many people are frustrated that during the present climate, there is nothing new on Hulu or Netflix or whatever. I am actually having a little problem with that, too, but that's for another post.
Meanwhile, over the years I have identified with several books that are what I call "keepers," The books are so great that they have to be held on to; one day they will need to be reread.
The Hardy Boys series comes to mind, as do all the Ian Rankin and Henning Mankell novels. And the Harry Potter books, I certainly can't leave those out.
Excluding the Hardy Boys (though no offense is intended), those other authors created such a lasting impression that I went out of my way to gather the collections, even though I had limited space in my apartment at the time. Then, years later, I moved to Europe, and what did I do?
I bought the collections again, so now I have two sets. The books are that important to me, and yes, I have reread them all through the years. Sometimes more than once.
Several of my fellow reader friends have always shied away from rereading a book, usually saying something like, "I read that already."
Fair point, but what's the difference between rereading a book, or watching a movie again, or a rerun of a television show? Or listening to a great song (She Sells Sanctuary), come to that?
For starters (I almost wrote firsts), I think it has to do with attention span and mindset. Listening to music comes easy, and -enter your favorite song here- gets played repeatedly on your stereo. Okay, maybe you don't listen with the same frequency as you might have done while in college, but normally you went a long time before eventually thinking, "Yep, this song is overplayed."
And even then, you had no problem hearing the song again a couple of days or weeks later. And years later, you'd pull the album back out for yet another listen.
Although I am watching a bit more TV than I would normally want to, I will kind of dismiss TV programming from this discussion, particularly sitcoms and long running dramas. Of course, I rewatched 7 complete series of the Andy Griffith Show last summer, and I also own the complete DVD collections of things like Inspector Morse, Life on Mars, and a few others.
Movies are a little easier to talk about. We all know someone who has watched Star Wars several thousand times, and for those folks that grew up in the 80s, just about everbody has a copy of the Breakfast Club, St. Elmo's Fire, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. And, everyone has their seasonal favorites, especially at Christmas.
It never escaped me that some of my friends who made the comment about rereading books were the same ones that made sure to watch a movie 50 times.
The answer is very simple. We love these songs, these movies, and even the shows. And we want to repeat the experience of how we felt when listening and viewing. (re-read my last post if you need a reminder.
This makes perfect sense to me. I love to re-experience these things, too.
But why reread an entire detective series immediately after finishing it?
Because it is so incredibly great. And even though the experience is equally strong, it is not identical to the first time.
This particular series is written by a Candadian woman who is about 10 years older than me. Her personal story is pretty compelling, and she seems like a really really nice person. But one who possesses an incredible ability to enrapture the reader with her character development, plot lines, and thought-provoking style. She subtly includes some pop culture references with such nonchalance that you almost miss it. More than once in the series, I have actually burst out laughing at a particular sentence or quip or incident.
As a series of crime stories, her works are right up there with many of the greats, and to be specific, are on par with Agatha Christie.
But, what I think sets this author apart is her ability to develop characters so intimately that you feel like you know them. All of them.
The author, herself, describes the setting, the location, the characters as a "state of mind."
For me, she brings such a distinctive voice. It's almost overwhelming.
When I was in college, one of my professors invited me to her office for a meeting to discuss one of my papers about a poet we were studying. During our session, the professor indicated, with great curiousity, that she was surprised that my own voice was coming through my writing, ironically about the author's work and writing style. The professor went on to say that it was very unusual (unique, perhaps) for someone like me to have such a voice at such a young age. I initially took offense at her remarks, as I gathered that she was just dismissing me as one of those students who would go back to his dorm room and listen to an album by the Cult, then write a blog post about one of the songs 30 years later.
But I realized she was right.
And it left an impression.
As a result, when I encounter literary works where all the stars align and I find myself totally engaged, I tend to want to hold on. And relive the experience. It won't be the same as the first time, but that's precisely what I look for.
My sister gave me the 14th book of the series at Christmas, and after reading it, I immediately bought the first 13 books, then purchased the 15th book (which wasn't available until a couple of months ago). I zipped through the first 13 books during the first part of this year, managed to get the 15th book, and as I finished it, knew I needed to go back to the beginning, just to see how the new experience would be.
Sure, I know how the books end, but I don't know what is going to happen.
I am missing my mother today, but am also celebrating her life, as I am with my sister and grandmother, and all the other mothers out there.
keep the faith
bryan
Sunday, May 03, 2020
She Sells Sanctuary and Other Magical Triggers
So, it's been an interesting week. I finished up my last days of vacation before becoming officially unemployed as of the 1st of May.
Neat.
I did not really go through any emotional goodbyes with colleagues or anything, but I did have a few reflective moments. I was amazed to find that, despite my acceptance of this unplanned situation, I was not quite ready to shut the door; I did not feel quite ready to finish the chapter and go on to the next.
A friend asked me several weeks ago, "How do you feel?" and I have constantly thought about the question. There are so many answers that I can give...and to be truthful, the answers are all over the emotional spectrum. It's easy to go down the doom and gloom path, especially in this current climate, but what kept winning out were the more postive, fresh start kind of thoughts.
And that got me to thinking about a few music triggers. Songs that immediately grab you and generate such a reaction, such feelings, such emotions, that one quickly gets postively overwhelmed.
For me, I have an incredibly long list of such songs, from various artists. "Born to Run," for example. Or "Rio." The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again," also quickly comes to mind. Hell, I am particularly fond of "Brand New Lover," namely because the hooks were so great. Many of the songs are anthem like, but others are just darn good songs with an awesome melody, whether they be dark and brooding, heavy industrial, or even poppy songs (that I almost wouldn't admit to listening to).
Most of these songs I first heard when I was much younger, 30-40 years ago. I think that is significant, because that's an impressionable age for everyone. And anyone who says they weren't an agst ridden teenager is most certainly not being truthful. But it is relative.
Some teens worried about their looks, their popularity. Others were stressed out about their grades, doing well in school, meeting their parents expectations, dealing with all the emotionally wrecked people who all behaved in various ways. The not so cool kids were jealous of the really popular kids, but the super social people were terrified that they'd be found out to be superficial. People were quick to judge, based on looks, behavior, and attitude. Everyone wanted to be noticed, but no one wanted to stand out.
That's tremendous pressure. It's right up there with being cooped up for 2 months at home without being able to go out and meet friends, go shopping, get a haircut, or do all the stuff that makes you feel okay. Suddenly, it all becomes too much and you find yourself about to explode.
And then a song comes into your head, and maybe, just maybe, you get a moment to suddenly stop, take a breath, and reset. And the memories, the feelings that you had when you first heard that song come flooding back all at once.
Maybe it was me toweling off after a shower during the week and noticing how my very thin hair had grown so long that it reminded me of circa 1985. Suddenly the intro to the Cult's classic song came into my head, and I completed the drying off experience by air-guitaring around my apartment.
I first heard the song as a 15 year old, when the song was released. To this day, the moment I hear the start of the song, I immediately feel like I did when I originally heard it. Like magic, all the crap associated with being a teenager is pushed aside, and all the postive stuff comes flooding forward. You feel giddy, knowing that just by hearing the song, you can do anything and everything: you win Wimbeldon and the World Cup (simultaneously), while receiving a Nobel prize later that afternoon.
Your imagination soars with countless amazing things are all happening at once.
You feel unstoppable.
What I like abourt this song is the impact it has on so many diverse groups of music listeners, across various music genres. True, it was (and is) one of probably 10-15 clubhits that, once the DJ put the record on, prompted EVERY single patron to hit the dance floor, including those folks standing in line outside waiting to get in the club. I remember driving around the city for the next 10 years, and would notice other drivers who were obviously listening to the same song. There is something really cool about listening to muisc from the car radio and noticing when someone else is listening to the exact same thing. It didn't happen all that often, which made it all the more exciting, and probably safer. (This is why radio stations don't play "Born to Run" very often; that song prompts everyone to start driving at least 40-50 mph faster than they were, regardless if they are on the highway, driving downtown, or in a school zone)
I have been in rock clubs in Portugal, beer festivals in Germany, beach parties in Spain, or just sitting in a half-empty pub. Queue intro to "She Sells Sanctuary," and everyone goes nuts. The quiet older man nursing his Guinness at the end of the bar even starts tapping his feet.
And the smiles are everywhere. People who never dance start cutting a rug bigger than life. Mild mannered people who NEVER want to show their "other side" suddenly release their inhibitions.
Talk about letting go of yourself.
It's an amazing experience, and after I took another shower after the dance-athon in my flat, I started wondering if it would have made a difference had I first heard the song at a different age. I personally doubt it, but it is relative. Impressions are funny things, but they hit you at any age. The fascination comes from the perspective. That's how the triggers work.
And the point is not to dismiss or ignore the baggage that we carry, whether it be acne, poor grades in school, arguments with parents, frustrations at the challenges of trying to fit in, or things like being unemployed, feeling isolated, figuring out how to explain to your kids why they can't go outside and play with their friends, or watching your 401k flush down the toilet.
All of that stuff is still there, but how we deal with it is up to us.
And I'd rather deal with it with a smile on my face, feeling like I am unstoppable.
That's why, when my boxers ripped down the back (during the dancing), I attributed it to the fact that I have been doing a lot of lunges and squats, building up the muscles in my legs and glutes. That seems much more plausible than saying that the boxers had been washed thin by too many laundry cycles.
Queue the song.
bryan
Neat.
I did not really go through any emotional goodbyes with colleagues or anything, but I did have a few reflective moments. I was amazed to find that, despite my acceptance of this unplanned situation, I was not quite ready to shut the door; I did not feel quite ready to finish the chapter and go on to the next.
A friend asked me several weeks ago, "How do you feel?" and I have constantly thought about the question. There are so many answers that I can give...and to be truthful, the answers are all over the emotional spectrum. It's easy to go down the doom and gloom path, especially in this current climate, but what kept winning out were the more postive, fresh start kind of thoughts.
And that got me to thinking about a few music triggers. Songs that immediately grab you and generate such a reaction, such feelings, such emotions, that one quickly gets postively overwhelmed.
For me, I have an incredibly long list of such songs, from various artists. "Born to Run," for example. Or "Rio." The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again," also quickly comes to mind. Hell, I am particularly fond of "Brand New Lover," namely because the hooks were so great. Many of the songs are anthem like, but others are just darn good songs with an awesome melody, whether they be dark and brooding, heavy industrial, or even poppy songs (that I almost wouldn't admit to listening to).
Most of these songs I first heard when I was much younger, 30-40 years ago. I think that is significant, because that's an impressionable age for everyone. And anyone who says they weren't an agst ridden teenager is most certainly not being truthful. But it is relative.
Some teens worried about their looks, their popularity. Others were stressed out about their grades, doing well in school, meeting their parents expectations, dealing with all the emotionally wrecked people who all behaved in various ways. The not so cool kids were jealous of the really popular kids, but the super social people were terrified that they'd be found out to be superficial. People were quick to judge, based on looks, behavior, and attitude. Everyone wanted to be noticed, but no one wanted to stand out.
That's tremendous pressure. It's right up there with being cooped up for 2 months at home without being able to go out and meet friends, go shopping, get a haircut, or do all the stuff that makes you feel okay. Suddenly, it all becomes too much and you find yourself about to explode.
And then a song comes into your head, and maybe, just maybe, you get a moment to suddenly stop, take a breath, and reset. And the memories, the feelings that you had when you first heard that song come flooding back all at once.
Maybe it was me toweling off after a shower during the week and noticing how my very thin hair had grown so long that it reminded me of circa 1985. Suddenly the intro to the Cult's classic song came into my head, and I completed the drying off experience by air-guitaring around my apartment.
I first heard the song as a 15 year old, when the song was released. To this day, the moment I hear the start of the song, I immediately feel like I did when I originally heard it. Like magic, all the crap associated with being a teenager is pushed aside, and all the postive stuff comes flooding forward. You feel giddy, knowing that just by hearing the song, you can do anything and everything: you win Wimbeldon and the World Cup (simultaneously), while receiving a Nobel prize later that afternoon.
Your imagination soars with countless amazing things are all happening at once.
You feel unstoppable.
What I like abourt this song is the impact it has on so many diverse groups of music listeners, across various music genres. True, it was (and is) one of probably 10-15 clubhits that, once the DJ put the record on, prompted EVERY single patron to hit the dance floor, including those folks standing in line outside waiting to get in the club. I remember driving around the city for the next 10 years, and would notice other drivers who were obviously listening to the same song. There is something really cool about listening to muisc from the car radio and noticing when someone else is listening to the exact same thing. It didn't happen all that often, which made it all the more exciting, and probably safer. (This is why radio stations don't play "Born to Run" very often; that song prompts everyone to start driving at least 40-50 mph faster than they were, regardless if they are on the highway, driving downtown, or in a school zone)
I have been in rock clubs in Portugal, beer festivals in Germany, beach parties in Spain, or just sitting in a half-empty pub. Queue intro to "She Sells Sanctuary," and everyone goes nuts. The quiet older man nursing his Guinness at the end of the bar even starts tapping his feet.
And the smiles are everywhere. People who never dance start cutting a rug bigger than life. Mild mannered people who NEVER want to show their "other side" suddenly release their inhibitions.
Talk about letting go of yourself.
It's an amazing experience, and after I took another shower after the dance-athon in my flat, I started wondering if it would have made a difference had I first heard the song at a different age. I personally doubt it, but it is relative. Impressions are funny things, but they hit you at any age. The fascination comes from the perspective. That's how the triggers work.
And the point is not to dismiss or ignore the baggage that we carry, whether it be acne, poor grades in school, arguments with parents, frustrations at the challenges of trying to fit in, or things like being unemployed, feeling isolated, figuring out how to explain to your kids why they can't go outside and play with their friends, or watching your 401k flush down the toilet.
All of that stuff is still there, but how we deal with it is up to us.
And I'd rather deal with it with a smile on my face, feeling like I am unstoppable.
That's why, when my boxers ripped down the back (during the dancing), I attributed it to the fact that I have been doing a lot of lunges and squats, building up the muscles in my legs and glutes. That seems much more plausible than saying that the boxers had been washed thin by too many laundry cycles.
Queue the song.
bryan
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