Auditorially Stimulated

So... I've always loved music. I have a connection to music that seems a bit more obsessive than what most people feel. When I love a song, or even when I hear it a lot over a short period of time, it becomes imbedded in my mind. I will always remember every word of it (for more information on how this has ruined my practical memory, please see last year's blog.) Which is kind of funny but not really all that unusual. My Grandfather, in the last year of his life, became obsessed with the fact that he couldn't remember to eat lunch when he was hungry, but could remember every word to every song he knew in his youth.

The weird thing is, not only do the words and melodies stick in my head, but the situation and emotions imbed themselves as well. So after a while, whenever I hear a song, I remember where I was and what I was doing when I was either obsessed with it or when I was hearing it everywhere I go. Which then prompts me to comment to people nearby, "This song totally reminds me of..." Which I'm sure is quite annoying. Cause who really cares other than me, right? But the thing is that I get so caught up in these memories and the emotions that go with them, that I can't seem to keep it to myself.

The other day, I was teaching Pilates to a few women. The radio station that played in the background was apparently playing a lot of songs from the year I turned 13, because every song put me back at a Bar/Bat Mitzvah party. Every freaking one! Dancing in my socks (which I naturally wore over my panty hose to keep them from tearing), watching the boys on the other side of the room (far, far away from us of course) whisper and play with matches and wishing they would come over and ask me to dance, seeing relatives rallying around the Jew-of-the-day, congratulating them on not dropping the Torah. All that. And I kept those memories in as long as possible, but I just couldn't help myself. I blurted out, "It feels like a Bat Mitzvah in here! Anyone have a glowstick I can make into a halo?" To which the nice waspy southern ladies who I was working out at the time responded, understandably, "What?" "Nothing, don't worry about it. Pull your abs in."

Yesterday, I was playing around on the XM and tuned to the 80's channel. They were playing Phil Collins, "Inside Out." As a angst-ridden high schooler, I played that song A LOT! And there is a line in the song that says "Let me in, I'm through with wasting my time!" which I recall screaming at the top of my lungs as I sang along. (Go ahead, you can lose respect for me for singing along with some Philage. I understand.) As soon as I heard that song the other day, I found myself mentally slipping back into that angsty place... that feeling of being misunderstood, angry, confused and hormonal. For a minute, some part of me was sitting on the floor in my childhood bedroom, cranking the music and singing as loud as my lungs would permit. And even though I changed the channel quickly to avoid it, I sank into that mood for a good half hour and had a hard time returning to the good mood I had been previously walking around with.

This happens to me all day long, wherever there is music playing. I have such specific memories attached to so many songs that sometimes it feels like dodging landmines. 'Crap, that's a Ryan song.' 'Oh man, I heard this song so much when I was working for Leeza.' 'Wow, Paul loved this song. I wonder what happened to him.' 'Oh god, I heard this song one night driving home after a crappy day of working on Wayne .'

Some songs are forever taboo. There's the Rolling Stones song that reminds me of the night my first boyfriend dumped me. The one that reminds me of being fired from that Disney show. Another one that reminds me of a really angsty night in college. These are songs I know I need to avoid like the plague because it takes me a really looooooong time to pull myself out of the moods I know come with them.

Some songs are great memories. From a fun family vacation or a great night in college with my friends. Songs from shows I really enjoyed, or songs that we played while we worked (Can you say Whitesnake, Paige?) or songs we danced to in the nightclubs in London.

Sometimes I try to recondition my brain to connect a different memory to a song. Doesn't seem to work very well. Only accidentally. My mother loves Barry Manilow, so his music used to remind me of being a little girl and make me feel warm and safe. But I used it so many times to pull myself out of bad moods while I was working in Salt Lake, that now it just reminds me of being miserable in Salt Lake.

Because of all this, I think I have a stronger connection to my past then I should. I know I spend too much time thinking about it. It's hard to stop. Memories are just everywhere, and they are so strong. I don't know how to avoid them. And the thing is, I don't always mind. In fact, a lot of times, I like it. When they are good memories, I'm excited to relive them. When I heard "Roam" by the B-52s today, it reminded me of taking a tour of Ithaca's campus for the first time, and how excited I was about how close college seemed, how soon I was going to get out of Shaker. And as I remembered that feeling, my life felt so open and full of possibilities.

Sometimes even the bad memories are good to remember. There is another Phil Collins song that reminded me of being 17 and saying goodbye to my best friend who was moving to New York. I hear that song and think about how sure I was that I would never see her again and it makes me so happy that we stayed close and have kept our friendship going another 20 years. Makes me feel accomplished.

I may sound like I'm complaining here, and I may be to a degree. But really, if you gave me the option to change this, I wouldn't. Some part of me likes the connections. Even the bad ones.

What I do wish I could change tho, is the feeling of being so out of control of my reactions. I would like to be able to have these moments of my life on playback but I would like to watch them from a safe emotional distance. Maybe if I didn't constantly emotionally relive my past, I could let it go and focus more on what's going on in my life right now.

Once again, I am solution-less on this issue. I shall continue to live in my mental auditorially-stimulated time-machine.

Maybe I should just find a channel on XM that only plays songs I've never heard before. Think it would work?

Admit It!

You all thought I was exaggerating, didn't you? Well... here's some proof for ya...

How to Know You're in New Orleans

8:30AM: I'm headed down the street with one of my fellow production-ites to go to Starbucks in the French Quarter in New Orleans.

Sadly for me, I'm dressed for my day at the Superdome, which means I am layered to the eyeballs because it's freezing in there. So my walk to Starbucks turned me awfully sweaty in the thick N.O. air, especially since I am also schleping my computer, a binder and God knows what else, in my computer case.

I turn the corner onto Canal and there in the doorway is the most aggressively average looking Transvestite/ prostitute I have ever seen. She looks me up and down and says, "Good morning" with a very bright smile. I respond in kind and as I pass her by, she gives me another glance and says, with a very surprised inflection, "Oh! Nice tits!"

Naturally, I say, "Thanks very much." And I continue on my way.

Hello, New Orleans.

Comfortable is a relative term...

Internet dating. There are so many pitfalls and traps. And it's so easy to get sucked into cliches when putting your profile together.

For example, does every guy out there aged 25-45 really like long walks on the beach? Is it really that universal? Isn't there someone out there like me who thinks that sand in your shoes is overrated?

Also, do that many people enjoy badminton so much that they are compelled to list it as a hobby? Cause I don't see badminton clubs sweeping the nation.

Then there are the people who like to work hard and also like to play hard. Is it me, or is that code for I-love-getting-drunk-and-throwing-up-in-some-random-stranger's-garden? Okay, that may be a bit cynical, and since I don't claim to either work hard OR play hard, it's probably not fair to judge. But I remember my old boss used to use that line all the time, and as far as I could tell, playing hard for him meant meeting the other power biz chino and polo shirt guys out for drinks for a few hours and talking on the phone to clients the entire time. So maybe my impression is incorrect.

But my fav of all the fav cliches are the guys who are looking for girls who are equally comfortable in black-tie or sweats.

Ok, um, what? EQUALLY comfortable? Let's evaluate that for a moment. Because is anyone EVER comfortable when they dress up to go out somewhere? I mean, maybe men can be comfortable in ties and suits, if they wear them everyday, and I guess tuxedos aren't that much different. But seriously, guys? Have you ever seen the shoes we wear when we wear black-tie attire? Do they look comfortable to you?Do Spanx, or panty hose, or anything else we wear to keep our bodies in check while wearing fabulous clothes look as comfy as sweats to you?

Let's see these two scenarios side-by-side, shall we? Do a little side-by-side comparison.






















"Honey, let's stay in tonight and watch some TV."
"Oh, fantastic idea sweetheart. I'm so tired and I have been waiting for the chance to wear my new strapless bra with underwire under my new black tie gown. Let me just throw my hair into a chignon and I'll be all ready to get comfy."

Am I ranting? Of course. Am I exaggerating? Uh huh. Do I think that perhaps I am taking it all a bit too literally? Well, duh. Am I completely wrong? Possibly. Am I amused by the idea? Abso-freakin-lutely.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on my new stilettos and do some gardening. Have a lovely evening!

Take a Moment Friday

I'd like to start a new tradition here at the blog. Each Friday, I am going to pick one thing and Take a Moment to Appreciate It. So here goes today's.

I am doing a party for a woman tonight who is folding me into her birthday celebration. She has rented a hotel suite and invited all of her friends. She is having Ladies' Time from 5:30-8:30 and I will be attending as part of that portion.

She gave me an invitation so that I would know the details and where everything is. It's a pretty straightforward invitation, mostly unremarkable. Exept for this one part, which is my favorite.

At the bottom, under the directions, it says "Please bring a gift."

I love that! She wants gifts. So rather than leaving any mention of gifts off, in the hope that people will just assume to bring them, or being socially correct and saying "no gifts" and then hoping people will ignore that directive and bring them anyway, she's putting it out there. Please bring a gift.

Someone who actually asks for what they want. Huh. Doesn't hope, doesn't hint, doesn't fantasize about it. Just asks. How often do we actually do that in life? I can't speak for everyone, but I know I don't do it all that often. So it shouldn't be surprising to me when people don't read my mind, but it always seems to shock me.

So, on this Take a Moment Friday, let's take a moment to appreciate someone who is willing to risk putting themselves out there and asking for something they want.

I shall now follow the lead and ask people to forward my blog on to people you think may enjoy it. And maybe leave a comment.

(That was scarier than I thought. Better hit Publish Now before I change my mind.)

Richie's Bid for Freedom

So, the first time was a week ago today. No, you know what? Let's start a bit further back.

My sister's dog, Ernie, made his first attempt at freedom early last week. Somehow, he got out of the gate in the backyard and went off to check out the neighborhood on his own. My sister lept in her car and chased him down, luring him into the backseat with hot dogs.

My poor sister. She lives on a main street and her dog is lovable and sweet and very endearing, but not the brightest bulb in the box. We're talking about a dog who tried to eat a skunk and then looked so sad when it sprayed him right in the face. You could practically hear him thinking, "Well, what did you do that for? I just wanted to eat you! Why would you hurt me?" So, when my sister said to me that she was grateful she had the presence of mind to take along hot dogs to tempt him into the car, I agreed. It was a smart move. And I said a silent prayer of thanks in my head that Richie has spent hours upon hours in the backyard and never gotten out or tried to eat a skunk. See? I willed it into being! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A week ago today, I was out all morning. As I was driving home, the sky was just starting to return to normal after several hours of rain and thunderstorm. I was relieved that it was ending before I got home because, as previously discussed, Richie can get quite manic when thunderstorms roll into town.

I pulled down my street and noticed that the woman who cleans my house had parked in my driveway. So I pulled up to the curb and parked. As I was getting out, a very nice man who was getting into his minivan down the street yelled hello to me. Then he asked me if I knew anyone in the neighborhood who had a Corgi. I yelled back that I had one, as my heart started to beat faster.

I walked toward the man who was yelling to me that he had just seen a corgi trailing a red leash (which I leave on him when my cleaning person is here so she can get him back into his room when she leaves with little difficulty) walking down the street. Naturally, I instantly began to panic and started running down the street toward the car, my mind already trying to calculate where he might have gone.

Fortunately, this lovely man had realized that a dog walking down the street with his leash on and no owner didn't seem right and had picked him up and put him in the car. The man got out and opened his back door. "Come here, buddy," he said and I saw Richie's head pop out of the door and look around with interest to see what was going on. Very nonchalant. 'Oh gee, what's happening out here?' I wanted to kill him and hug him at the same time. He caught sight of me and smiled before jumping out of the car and walking toward me. I grabbed his leash, gushing thanks to this wonderful, wonderful man (who was a little scary for a second when he said that his wife had always wanted a corgi and he had been about to call her and tell her he found one... um...) Richie started pulling on the leash like he thought we would go for a walk now. As if my legs were still working and not shaking like crazy. Sorry, buddy. We had to go home right away so I could have a quiet nervous breakdown and try very hard not to yell at my cleaning person for letting him out when the gate was open. Which I know was not her fault, but I wanted to yell anyway.

Anyhow, we all recovered and it became a funny story to tell for the next few days. I tried not to think about what could have happened and just focused on how fortunate I was that the timing worked out the way it did.

Two days ago, Ernie, apparently having gotten a taste of freedom and liking it, streaked out the side door of my sister's house while someone was leaving and ran off down the street. My poor sister had to run after him and finally caught up with him when he was a couple blocks down. Now she's worried that every time she opens the door, he's going to make a run for it. And I don't blame her. Again, as she told me what happened, I stupidly said a silent prayer of thanks that Richie didn't get any further on his freedom run and that I had learned my lesson. Jinxed it again!!!

This afternoon, I came home during a thunderstorm. I let Richie out to pee but he was so freaked out by the storm, he refused to go. I shut the back door and walked away for a second thinking if I wasn't standing there, maybe he would go on his own. Um... I thought wrong.

No, instead he made a break for it, no doubt looking for somewhere to get away from the storm. If the storm is in his house and in his backyard, then surely he can get away from it by leaving those places.

I returned to the door less than a minute later and he was nowhere in sight. Completely panicked, I got in the car, stalled, and then backed out, terrified that he would come running up the driveway and I wouldn't be able to see him. (He's REALLY SHORT!) I drove around the block, stopping at a park near my house, where I very enthusiastically and loudly, screamed "RICHIEEEEEEE" at the top of my lungs several times. (Think STELLLAAAAA. That's about right.) I turned around to get back in the car with absolutely no idea what direction to head next when I saw two ears crest the hill of the block next to the park. I hoped against hope that it was him. That he had heard me scream and was running to me.

It was, although I don't think he heard me yell. I think he was just still trying to outrun the storm. He was running, running, running, ears flat back, in the rain. He was, of course, just to torture me as much as possible, running down the middle of the friggin' road, just so a car could not see him and run him over as they drove by. I was standing there yelling, "Come to me Richie! That's a good boy, come on Richie." I didn't want to back the car up for fear of running him over and I was afraid if I wasn't right next to the car when he got to me, he would take off again before I could reach down and grab his collar. So I just stood next to the car, yelling his name and clapping my hands together (our signal for "come.") He got to the end of the block and I was just about to stop freaking out when I realized he wasn't running at me. He didn't seem to know it was me. Like Forrest Gump before him, he was just running. He turned the corner and started heading toward the house.

Fortunately (how many times can I use that word in this post), when I yelled his name again, he realized it was me and changed course. I opened the car door and he jumped in, shaking and panting (which made two of us.) I got in the car and sat behind the wheel, trying to calm myself down. My legs were shaking too much to put the clutch in. I kept seeing everything that could have gone wrong flashing behind my eyes. A car. Another dog. Him getting lost and not knowing how to get home.

We got home and I was too afraid to put him down outside so I carried him into the house. Did I mention he doesn't enjoy being carried? He squirms and squirms until he either falls out of my arms or I put him down. Which I did and then flopped down on the couch.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to punish him. But all I could feel was grateful. So I sat down on the floor next to him, petting him and telling him I love him. I started to lecture him about never leaving the house again, but he was apparently not interested, because he got up and walked to the other corner of the room and laid down, panting, drooling and staring at the ceiling, no doubt wondering why he couldn't get away from the storm.

'What is it with my Granddogs,' my mother asked me. I honestly don't know. But I am choosing to blame Ernie for being a bad influence on Richie. Now granted, they live in seperate states and have only ever met once since Richie doesn't know how to play nicely with others. But still, let's blame Ernie. It's less stressful for me.

And I've had enough stress today.

Year 35

So... 36 looms. In two more days, I will be closer to 40 than to 30. Which is fine. I'm not worried about age. But as the day gets closer, I've been doing some evaluation of the previous year. I've been making a mental list of my accomplishments (such as they are) over the year that was 35.

• Recruited four new consultants. All of whom are still active, which is exciting. Still dangle on the precipice of Director level where I have been hanging since November, waiting to find one more recruit. Frustrating!
• Read at least 20 books. Started and never finished significantly more than that, however. Let's not do the math to see how much I spent on these. Re-read Time Traveler's Wife for possibly the 5th time. Stay tuned for a later blog on that book and the special place it holds in my heart.
  
• Learned to teach Pilates and taught over 60 hours of free classes for friends and family.
• Attempted to understand the anatomy of the human body for Pilates. Ongoing process.
• Attended PR annual training in Cincinnati and PR Convention in Las Vegas. Guess which one I enjoyed more.
  
• Held more than 50 PR parties. Had three women tell me I helped save their marriage.
• Took Richie for significantly fewer walks that I should have. Poor Richie.
• Ten haircuts and six cut/color.
• Countless mani/pedis.
• Spent many hours with my fantastic niece singing songs from Sesame Street and impersonating the Count.
• Finally brought a 20 year relationship to its inevitable conclusion, simultaneously purging myself of two decades of regret and what-ifing while also creating a whole new world of pain. Thankfully, it abated quicker than the previous times.
• Replaced the broken tile on the kitchen floor finally freeing the house from the last of many stupid home improvement mistakes the previous owners made.
• Accrued an additional $10,000 in ViewU debt.
• Got to see my Mother recognized and thanked for her many, many years of service to the Alzheimer's Association.
• Saw "Love" by Cirque Du Soleil twice. (Fully intend to see it again this August.)
• Abandoned one knitting project mid-process and replaced it with a different one several months later.
• Wrote way less blogs than I meant to and plan to do better in year 36.
• Joined Twitter. Pretty much stopped at joining however.
• Bought a new dishwasher. It's sooooo quiet!
• Drove to Nashville for NYE.
• Cleveland for Thanksgiving.
  
• Girls' Weekend in Asheville.
• Family vacation in Hilton Head.
• Telethon in Vegas.
• Some stupid gospel show in Sept.
• Inaugural Event in DC.
• Laryngitis
• Bronchitis bordering on Pneumonia
• Read lots and lots and lots of Twilight Fan Fiction (and I'm only slightly ashamed...)
• Walked 26 miles and raised $1900 for the Avon Walk 2008!
• Worked three or four Panther's games for Kara.
• Bought a Wii and joined a book club at the same time!
• Watched a fantastic season of Lost! And even though I wanted to throw the TV at the wall in frustration after the season finale, I loved every minute of it. I'm sure I will sob next year when it really does end for real real (as Molly would say)

I'm sure I accomplished a ton of other things during the course of this year. But those appear to be the highlights. All in all, I think the good things far outnumber the bad things.

I've spent a lot of time in the last few months thinking and worrying about the things I don't have. But looking at this list now, it reminds me of so many things I do. Which is important to do, especially when your own personal calendar is set to flip to the next year.

It's a good time to make resolutions, many of which are not appropriate for sharing with the outside world. But one thing I will let everyone in on... I plan to update this blog once a week from now on. Don't know what day and don't know for sure I will always be able to pull it off, but I am going to do my best. Entries will probably be a lot shorter (which is probably a relief to everyone) but they'll be there.

And with that, I'm off. See you next week!