giving up

world go on without me
you don't need me anymore
i missed my chance
i messed it up
i'm old
i stink
i'm done
goodbye

difficult conversations

lots of them recently.

like, where their bank account info is kept.
where they keep their will,  the safety deposit box, etc.
cremated or buried.  special urn or sprinkled over a river.
what hymns to sing at the funeral.
which set of china i want to inherit.



not the kind of stuff you feel like "sharing" to see how many "likes" you get for Bob's Burn & Urns.

not pleasant. difficult.


then today.  on swings in backyard.
daughter: "Mommy, you look sad.  Are you sad?"
me:   "no...(sniff)...ok, yes, i'm a little sad."
daughter: "don't be sad, mommy, when you're sad, i'm sad."
me: "it's ok, mommies get sad sometimes.  you can't be happy all the time."
silence.

difficult conversations.  they seem to be in season lately.

song of the day

Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home?

Come on, now
I hear you're feeling down
Well I can ease the pain
Get you on your feet again

Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying

I have become comfortably numb

I have become comfortably numb

Okay
Just a little pinprick
There'll be no more
But you may feel a little sick

Now can you stand up?
I do believe it's working good
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown the dream is gone

I have become comfortably numb

Songwriters
WATERS, ROGER/GILMOUR, DAVID JON

Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

 Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

numb..

really wishing i were dead tonight.
suicide is tempting but it's also extremely selfish so it's not an option.
then i'd just spend eternity thinking of the misery i caused others.
similar to my life here on earth, but longer.
my life might as well be over here. there's no joy left to extract from it.
just pretend. go thru the motions. but not really live.  when i try to consider options to find joy, i find myself back at the same conclusion. either fake it, or hurt others.  i'm stuck. need to put on more layers of pretense. figure out a way to get thru a few more years without feeling anything. just numbness. that's all i need.  comfortably numb. then i can die with a good conscience. hopefully soon.

and now some song reading: for some reason this song just popped into my head:

                                                      "Losing My Religion" (by R.E.M.)

Oh life, it's bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I've said enough

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper 
Of every waking hour
I'm choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool
Oh no, I've said too much
I've said enough

Consider this
Consider this, the hint of the century
Consider this, the slip
That brought me to my knees, failed
What if all these fantasies come
Flailing around
Now I've said too much

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
Try, cry, why try
That was just a dream
Just a dream
Just a dream, dream

I don't even know the original meaning behind these lyrics, but for some reason, i can relate, on a subconscious level or something.  i've always loved that song, in my dark times, anyway.

lights...camera...action!!!

It's ironic to me..
how your ordinary life can become like a movie,
 you're a character in a suspenseful action flick or drama..
when you suddenly
throw away the script,
ditch the preconceived notions of who you think
others want your character to be,
find out who you really are,
then forge ahead
living out your true calling,
that plan of destiny that unfolds one minute by every precious second.
better than fiction
fresher than the latest movie
unrehearsed,
and flawlessly authentic.

reading my songs

reading my songs like a book...while reading the book, the song reader.  just thoughts as i bump along in this shuttle van on the way to the mpls airport, reading my book & listening to the radio on my earphones.  funny thing, in this area where i grew up,  i noticed while driving my parents’ car around and punching the scan button the radio dial, that most the radio stations seemed to be stuck on 80’s music.  Just as if time stood still, nothing  changed, from the day i left the nest, moved on to college and entering the “real world”.  as if we should still be wearing ripped-at-the-shoulder, Flashdance style sweatshirts and legwarmers and rocking out to def leppard and john cougar mellencamp.   this very music that shaped my coming-of-age years, those ryhythms & lyrics that somehow subconsciously shaped how i felt about the autopilot drama i was living out. meaning,  i just lived. not thinking about what i was doing or why i was doing it, not analyzing whether i was really being true to myself or not, but just doing.  i could list all these songs if i’d been crazy enough to jot them down while steering, but can only throw out examples.  like..cruel summer…tainted love...little pink houses….king of pain...

 

and here’s a funny one, i walked into a shiny silver denny’s diner just now to use the bathroom, was about to die from too much coffee before that long road trip...and i’m immediately hit with the song “hungry like the wolf” by duran duran playing quite loudly on the restaurant’s loudspeakers.  even in the bathroom.  the place looked like a real old-timey diner, with tables scattered around, filled up with older farmer-looking gentlemen with seed caps (baseball caps advertizing seed companies and other farm-related gunk, for the non-Midwestern folk out there) as well as a shiny silver bar, complete with some comfortable-looking “regulars” leaned over their eggs, or giving their orders to the portly oldish woman in a brown uniform, jotting down notes on her menu pad, i’ll bet she even had a pencil behind her ear.  

anyway..where was i?

i love the moment of take-off.  from bumping along endlessly past all the airport gates, those slow bumps lulling me to sleep with nothing of interest to look at out my window, to that sudden stop at the edge of the take-off runway. that moment of anitcipation, the stillness, as suddenly the jets roar up, that feeling of being pressurized, a couple moments to watch another jet make its descent and land, and then, bam. bodies flatten against our seats, heads back, as we’re whisked forward with such a rush of power that i almost feel like i’m already in the air. moving faster and faster down the runway, the  bumps now coming so fast they feel like my heart beating faster and faster.  enjoying the feeling of abandon, loss of control, giving in the power of the plane. no turning back, as the nose goes up and that sudden rush of air beneath the plane that can make my stomach jump but i keep breathing and calming myself, as to not freak out over the little air bumps along the way.  love the sights out the window…

and soon we’re cruising at 35,000 feet and it’s no big deal anymore,  but i’m happy i have a window seat.  the clouds look so cool down there…

so i’m at the part of my book now, where the older sister, the song reader, has come to the point of losing her mind in the process of helping others.  so dedicated to helping others figure out their lives, for free, usuallly, just an obsessive answer to her calling , her giftedness, while keeping her day job as a waitress in the small, gossipy-town’s diner.  

thinking about the idea of caregiver’s burnout.  giving to others, self-sacrificing to the point of their own demise, their own leap into mental illness themselves.  that’s what happens in my book, and it makes me think.  is that also what can happen when you spend your entire life pleasing others, helping others, giving up your window seat to some stranger who asks you to switch seats even though you’d specifically requested a window seat when ordering your tickets?  (that didn’t happen to me, but to my mom. she gave up her seat and then complained to me about it, saying how mad she was at that young woman who had the audacity (the healthy assertiveness, really) to politely state her preferences, if it was ok..)  or to agree to order the spinach alfredo at the restaurant just  because your sister recommended it so that you can stroke her ego when it gives her the opportunity to share her great knowledge of the great health benefits of spinach even if you secretly hate spinach with a passion?  (i happen to really like spinach, but just an example..)

back to my book. it inspires me in many ways.

such as music. growing up, we only heard my parents play classical music in our house, good formal, sit-up-straight, don't-get-emotional, steady, mathematical rhythms & intellectual music theory. nice, and allowed some pleasant emotions in, but nothing disturbing or full of angst, like the popular music we "youngens" prefered back then. even in church, it was nothing but boring, slow hymns sung to a loud organ in the back. once i remember my mom commenting on some guest soloist who came to church and sang something "all emotional, like he was singing a love song or something", she described it, curling up her nose as if she were describing something extremely vile, grotesque, even immoral, or while picking up something smelly with her fingertips. oh no, church music was never allowed to have any passion in it. neither was our family life. this was the tone, the musical background, that guided most of my decisions in life. be practical. sensible. don't let any passion in. or out.

based on where i am now, this would be good advice. keep out the music, the good stuff, anyway, because it will just bring out the longings for things i cannot have, unsensible things, things i never saw modeled in my dysfunctional family so therefore they wouldn't fit the mold. i am just a product of the mold, right? sounds kinda moldy to me.

and that's it for now.  just thoughts on music, and flying.

Last look

Last look at my childhood bedroom...(for now )

now i know

pretty sure now
happiness
fun
romance
dreams come true
are for the young
those who
have not yet made their mistakes
haven't tasted death in their own selves
or the ones they love
or
for those who have chosen well
not the other way around
so choose well
my sons & daughters
that it may go well with you
or your undoing
will be worse than murder

the song reader

Some excerpts from the book I’m reading… (The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker)

“...it takes guts to go nuts…Most people ignore the wound, put a Band-Aid on it, and forget it.  Only the gutsy ones can look right at the blood, stare into the pain, and  risk losing their minds to know what’s what.” (end quote)

That's me, alright. totally nuts. Sometimes i wish i were like other people, those solid, two-feet-on-the-ground, mind-over-matter, good decision-making, unflappable folks. Those people who can just stack their lives up, block by block, and base every new decision on the solid foundation of these nice perfect cube-shaped blocks. me, i'm not like that. I'm not made of something solid and perfect like a cube. me, i'm like a can of that green slime stuff you played with as a kid, no really, i'm talking like the difference between solids, liquids & gases. (ok my kids would jump in here & call me a GAS sometimes but...never mind) I"m a liquid. I'm so emotional, I just slip through the cracks of any situation, no matter how prepared i think i am, and i'm just a big puddle of mess on the floor. and you can't put a band-aid on a puddle of mess. have you ever tried that? no. And even if I could put a band-aid on it, like i've tried to do in the past, it just won't work anymore. my eyes are opened wide. i see my spirit, i hear the song it's singing, and i cannot lie to myself or others anymore. i will risk losing my mind completely to live authentically, God help me please.

another good quote:

“You know, I bet you can tell an awful lot about a person from the songs they sing.  I don’t mean if they’re in love, it’s a happy song; if they’ve broken up, a he-done-me-wrong song.  I mean something else.  Something in the brain maybe, that lets the music slip past all the things you know, and wish you believed, to what you really are...Those same words would be ignored if someone tried to just say them to you, but when they’re in the music, it’s different-you can’t help but open up.  And then you start singing them, too, and it’s like your voice is telling you something you still don’t know, but need to.  Like you’re stuck on a particular song and you can’t get it out of your head for a reason.”

I don't have to add much to this, it speaks for itself. I"m really enjoying this book, and it totally explains why so many songs keep coming into my head & into this blog lately, as I venture along this road and am so sensitive to these things that touch my spirit.

Time to get back to my book.

genius speaks

I love this...

"It's ok to forge ahead alone. Think for yourself, be compassionate & kind to others. ‪#‎Perspective‬"

I feel this in my spirit.  My heart's cry.  To let the Lord, and the Lord alone, lead me, guide me. Comfort me. Use me to shine Your light on others, but let Your spirit's fire lead me in ways I cannot find by following the crowd. any crowd.  May I do this with balance; not as a selfish hermit, but with  a careful, listening heart, so I know when to open up and let the intermingling with others strengthen me, yet pull me back when I need to sit still and hear Your voice alone.  Untangle me from the mess of trying to please others, from allowing them to steal a part of me that is reserved for You alone.  I want to be Yours alone, Jesus.