I’m scattered today. I may as well apologize now. This series of ramblings is going to be a doozy, I can already tell. I finished reading Reckless: My Life as a Pretender, by Chrissie Hynde. I loved it. I stayed up all night reading it. I had to take lots of breaks to look up colloquialisms from her youth. (I can speak 1960’s now.) I took notes because I’ve never heard of a lot of bands she mentioned, but will rectify that situation soon. I know a lot more about drugs, now.
I didn’t know much about Chrissie Hynde before reading the book. I knew she was cool, and I could easily conjure her image and voice in my mind. That about covers it. When I found out she was touring with Stevie Nicks, I was ecstatic. I saw some footage uploaded to YouTube by fans, (thanks!) The crowds were unbelievably humongous. Holy shiitake mushrooms, Batman!
The book kicked me in the nuts twice. The first time, because Chrissie Hynde described a collection as Aspergian, the second because she has no idea how wonderful and brilliant she is. I got past the first kick instantly because she was descriptive, not mean. No malice, no foul. The second took longer because it reminded me of how big an asshole I was back when I thought my “superior” skill at learning from books, the only taught method for both our generations, made me awesome.
I’ve since learned the difference between awesome and asshole. You’re welcome. 😂 I feel guilty because I know my former superiority complex has a lot to do with the lack of confidence I see in many brilliant people who were told they weren’t by influential people in their world. And worse, because all my book learnin’ doesn’t seem to help me convince them they’re so much more than they’ve been led to believe. Sigh.
Someone who works in a different office but shares the break area informed me my Ph.D. in Software Engineering is no achievement. I laughed (pretty hard.) Then I said, “I know, but I have a brown vagina.” Then he laughed and said, “Expensive liability insurance.” (That’s precisely when it stopped being funny to me.) I appreciate him for comprehending out loud, though.
It occurred to me I have things in common with Chrissie Hynde. Such as, we both knew what we wanted at a young age, and went for it. We also both know that long, agonizing moment where we first recognize we’re about to suffer a fate worse than we ever imagined. Her books’ content covered exactly what I would have asked her, with detail in all the right places, and that just blows my mind. I read some reviews on Amazon and was surprised to see comments by fans who wanted tabloid content and were disappointed to get her history instead.
(As a recovering asshole, I can’t help but think… Autobiography: An account of a person’s life written by that person.) So anyway, I also noted Chrissie Hynde can draw, created her own style, and is the boss. So now I know she’s cool, a survivor, a good descriptive writer, and a vulnerable human, living her life out loud despite it. I also know she’s the mum of two young women, and she’s a 🇬🇧 Londoner. (She doesn’t fake the accent like Madonna. Heh. I suspect Madonna does it because it’s hilarious. What Madonna may lack in raw musical talent, she more than makes up for in music industry acumen. Come at me. 🙃)
I’m just kidding, don’t come at me, I’ve already cried twice today, and I’m a wee bit dehydrated. 😂😂 (Nothing to blog home about, just a typical day in the life.) We moved M’s dresser and a chair into my apartment. We’re going to take this s.l.o.w.l.y. So slowly I don’t really notice the change, (and freak out because he’s in my space, and he’s this person I can’t ignore because it would hurt him and I don’t want to hurt him, and it will be hard until it’s not, then it’ll be the new normal, and the planet will continue hurling through space… Whew, almost talked me into panicking!) I’m off to run in the moonlight with my new dog. Yay. 🐕