“That’s when I began my affair with Mohandas.”

Threads by Sheryl Crow

Threads by Sheryl Crow dropped today.  I’ve listened with my full attention twice so far.  Once with my desktop monitors, and once with Bose QC35 headphones.  All I can say is; wow.  I’ll be spending a lot of time with this album.  In my head, I’m listening with Stevie Nicks and Solange.  (I need them to collaborate on a project IRL.  Please, dear universe.)

I’m so proud of Sheryl Crow.  The track, Redemption Day, is an old song reenvisioned.  The new version made me sit down like I was getting a tattoo on my soul.  I’m listening with Grado headphones next.  I think they’ll be the sweet spot, but I have three others to test, (all German engineered.)  I love Sheryl Crow.  Her energy is beautiful.

I’m slowly rebooting post-meltdown.  I’m doing it differently, this time.  Instead of fleeing inward, I’m gradually recovering while present.  I’ve accepted it’s a process, and am not indulging in any cynical internal narration to amuse myself in the meantime.  It was fun when I didn’t know better.  Now if I do it, I picture my mom looking at me like she may have overestimated my intelligence.  (Cut to my ego in an ER where the doctor just yelled, clear!)

woman

My victories this week include things like brushing my teeth and showering.  Each one empowers me to gain another, but for now, I can do three or four hard things a day.  I exercised, ate, showered, brushed my teeth, and paid bills today.  Yay, me!  I still have energy left for the evening, plus I can find essential words on demand, today.  😆

I missed a dental appointment, but I didn’t waste energy beating myself up for it.  (I used it to reschedule.)  I’m so grateful to have my voice back.  It feels like being allowed to wear clothing in public again.  I have a ways to go till recovered, but I’ll get there.  Solange’s music is healing in ways I can’t yet articulate.  It makes me feel valuable.  I didn’t know music could do that.  I’m off to commune with Threads.  💜✌🏽

“Scissors mishap, air show disaster, chinese organ thieves; it’s a dangerous world.”

reset count

I’m recovering from a meltdown.  An airshow (and the practice leading up to it) shut me down like an off switch.  Bose QC35 noise-canceling headphones, worn from sunup to sundown, couldn’t shield me from the ridiculous pilot shenanigans; she said, acidly.  I was in air defense units for several years of my military career.  I’ve been vigilant of the sky ever since as if programmed to assume watch whenever outdoors.  It wasn’t part of my specialty, but I had the opportunity to witness, and a few times, (range) fire all of the Army’s air defense weaponry.  Cherished experiences.

I don’t worry about war, as many do.  America has been at war my entire life, and likely yours.  I have a tremendous amount of faith in our military from experiencing it firsthand.  I paid for this comfort with sweat, tears, and anxiety that too often manifested as inopportune hurling for distance.  (Raising fist in solidarity with anyone who has ever been beaten up for accidentally barfing on someone.)  It was worth it.  Plus, I had access to a lot of cool shit a decade before civilians; (like email.)  I just deleted a whole paragraph about the old days.  You’re welcome. 🙃

I’m hoping to regain my ability to speak aloud today.  I’m confident Solange’s A Seat at the Table on repeat will draw out my voice.  Music’s power over my neurology and mood astonishes and delights me.  It’s my favorite survival tool.  When I can’t talk, I tend to stop communicating altogether.  People are especially dangerous at these times, so it’s isolation without my consent.  When I recover basic functionality, I may enjoy solitude a little too much.  The rock I used to dwell beneath sends such warm invitations.  (In my head, Stevie Nicks clears her throat, then burns them while making eye contact.)  No worries on that front.  Heh.

I’m off to start wrapping my head around a mini-vacation this weekend.  Good thing I like obsessively planning for shit.  😂✌🏾💜

“Well, they recognized Jerry from the Super Terrific Happy Hour.”

So, this happened.  Yep.  I squeed through tears.  It’s catchy, and I was singing along before it even ended the first time.  It’s identified as a country song, but I choose to see it as Sheryl Crow Rock.  Yep, it’s a genre.  She has country and rock roots and combines them with beautiful results.  As a student of both Stevie Nicks and Sheryl Crow, I automatically know the song includes life lessons.  Bonus.

I’ve never heard of Maren Morris, but they have a lovely voice.  Like if Dolly Parton and Kristen Chenoweth had a baby, (not sure if we’re there yet scientifically, but humor me, please.)  Add to that Stevie Nicks lending her range, edge, and harmonizing skills, and Sheryl Crow being herself, and you’ll see why I’m having one of those days that are so joyful, I can’t help but thank the universe.

The song is empowering to me.  It’s saying don’t put snarky expectations on how I will react to a breakup.  Just because it would make you feel better is no reason to assume I’m going to fall apart over you.  I know how to work with my feelings, and fluidly move on to whatever comes next.  In heels.  (No bitch for emphasis necessary because if the shoe fits, it’s implied.  So ninja.) 😂  I love songs that celebrate healthy thinking.  I’m off to listen on repeat.  I can’t wait for the video! ✌🏽💜

p.s. My janky foot is almost healed enough for open hi-hatting.  Yay, body!

“Now, what are you going to do about my Twix?”

water droplet

Congratulations go out to Stevie Nicks and Janet Jackson; both inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Stevie Nicks is now the first woman to be inducted twice.  Legendary, yo.  Watching her perform live was a bucket list moment for me.  I immediately put it back on the list, too.  (Please, sir.  I want some more.)  Fran recently put me on to Solange Knowles during The Friend Zone podcast, and I’m hooked whooked. 😆

I watched all the existing episodes of One Strange Rock on Netflix, recently.  It’s Will Smith hosting a show where eight astronauts talk about their experiences in space.  In doing so, they teach a lot about the earth and our universe.  It’s fabulous.  I watch documentaries often, but I learned some life-changing information that never once crossed my mind while watching and pondering.

I’m not ready to talk about it yet.  I need more time to process and translate into words.  I think everyone should see it.  It broadened my perspective in a manner that accepts the universe in all her glory.  It reminds me of Game of Thrones when Maester Aemon says, “Kill the boy and let the man be born.”  I feel a bit long in the tooth compared to Jon Snow, but it’s all relative, eh?  🤣

person in cave looking out

I’ve almost finished with my second viewing of HBO’s Westworld (seasons 1-2.)  I’m so impressed by it.  The attention to detail is astonishing.  The performances are excellent cast-wide.  The delivery of historically-accurate, and thus, often campy dialogue in a completely believable manner by so many actors is fabulous.  The costumes!  The production; as meticulously crafted as the world it portrays.  I’m so proud of the people who work on it.  It’s a shiny gem.  And that doesn’t even include the soundtrack, which is a significant part of the storytelling process.  Chills!

I had a scary low cognitive abilities day, recently.  I think I triggered it accidentally by blundering into a Chasm of Fascination.  I only meant to peek in, but I fell head first.  (I’m safely distant from the edge now.  Whew.)  Dimensional space speculation is dangerous ground for me.  I got deep in thought, and after several hours, I felt a bit stuck.  Then I panicked and tried to shift to practicing guitar.  Sadly, I merely held my guitar for a few hours while I thought more about dimensional space.

To function while in this state, I have to talk myself through everything.  To get a drink of water, I have to chant aloud, drink water, or I’ll lose a few more hours halfway through the process of fetching it.  It’s like being stuck between two worlds while trying to pay attention to both at the same time.  It takes all available resources to perform the simplest tasks.  These are the times when Amelia Bedelia is more service animal than companion pet.  She’ll persistently demand my presence until I claw my way back, (and she knows when I’m faking it with autopilot.)  I give her a treat each time.

I’m back to typical, today, but I’m still a bit disoriented time-wise.  It seems like this should be Friday, not Sunday.  (I believe the consensus regarding treatment for time disorientation is to tell someone about it. 👍🏽)  Shrill on Hulu is a super fun binge.  I can’t wait till they add more.  I’m off to read.  💜✌🏽

“For I have seen the nipple on your soul!”

why so curious?

I’m in a weird mood.  I’m having fun with it.  It’s probably vibrations of joy and contemplation from the recent Fleetwood Mac concert I attended.  It takes me a while to process everything I took in that night.  I’m also a bit stingy about sharing what I experienced.  (I’ll work on that.)  Here’s a gem:  After singing Gold Dust Woman, Stevie Nicks swirled into gold dust and faded to black.  The FX was so ingenious, I was compelled to turn and ask the nearest person, “Did you see that?!”  😆

I caught up on a few of my TV shows.  I can’t wait for season 6 of Grace and Frankie to begin (next year.)  I had a blast binge-watching it.  I started over with Westworld.  Season 3 airs soon, and I need at least one more viewing first.  The show is lush with depth and detail.  I’m learning so much about music from the soundtrack.  When I heard the instrumental cover of Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box by Ramin Djawadi, I gasped from being smacked by genius.  (It’s on Tidal.)

everything is connected

Now I need Amy Lee to record this song.  Just her and a magnificent grand piano of her choosing under a foggy spotlight.  And when you think it can’t get any better, enter Beyoncè singing the chorus and moving however the music takes her.  Their haunting harmonies on the next verse hold us hostage until Jay Z walks in and starts freestyling, and the beat surfaces and swells.

Freeze on a 360° image that slowly pans around, revealing all three artists in an intense moment of complete release.  Then resume at normal speed as they all meld into a beautiful, painful explosion of music so powerful it moves the world.  And finally, cut to me in the ER, and a doctor is yelling, clear!  Because my heart would explode like a heart-shaped box.  Heh.  Weird mood, indeed.  🙃

We got a fair amount of snow and some freezing rain on top.  It was knee-high on my balcony, yesterday.  Today it’s melting away, resulting in several icicles forming about a foot in front of (and above) the door.  The temptation to jump up and slap them away is more significant than I’m willing to admit this far into my forties.  Wait.  Dammit, ego!  Lay by your bowl!  I’d do it if not for the icy landing zone.  (I’m newly considerate of my hips years old.)  I’m off to band practice.  💜✌🏽