Author: Michelle

I had to fill out a class evaluation form at the mid-point of fat camp, and one of the questions asked me to list some of my successes in the class. This is after 2 weeks of binge drinking and debauchery. Let’s just say my diet has been heavy on the tequila and light on healthy food choices over the last few weeks. I’ve been on vacation. It’s a bad time to ask me to do a self-evaluation of how I’m doing in establishing healthy habits. Exercise? Fuggedaboutit.

I was stumped. I wrote:
1. Regular attendance.
2.
3.
4.
5.

I sat and stared at the piece of paper and moved on to the next question -where I need to focus right now.
Fuck that–can I write that I don’t have any focus? That’s not very positive. I’m supposed to be positive. Shit, I “supposed to’d” myself. Not a recommended form of self-talk. I am doing this ALL WRONG. Next question?

What are some good habits I can build on?
Good habits? Do I have any?
Not. So. Much.
Next…

Every time I think I am making strides towards being more positive, someone makes me quantify it and fucks my shit right up.

Why don’t they have classes that glorify cynicism or sarcasm? I would be the Queen of Everything.

I’m going to crawl under a rock now.
I should never have listened to Nick Cave on my way to work.

Several people told me I looked pretty today, though.
I made my coworkers laugh.
That’s…fine. It’s fine.
It is, right?

Beware of the bear
Be aware of the bear
-Ken Kesey

Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.
–Neil Gaiman/The Sandman, Vol. 6: F

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop to look around, you might miss it.
–Ferris Bueller

The other day, I watched a movie about the little trip Ken Kesey and a group of his friends made to the 1964 World’s Fair in New York in a school bus called Further. That trip has been written about, filmed and discussed at great length by people who are a hell of a lot more erudite than I am. Tom Wolfe, for one.

I have no fucking idea what the movie was even called. It was just sort of there so I watched it. This thing called television is a mystery to me, what can I say? [OK, Google says it’s called “Magic Trip.” Of course it is.]

The first thing to make me go hmmm was this:
Talking about the filming of the trip, someone asks one of the pranksters (Ken Babbs??)if anyone on the bus knew how to operate the 16mm camera they would be using to film the trip.

He said something to the effect of this–
None of us knew how to do anything that we were doing.

None of them knew what they were doing, but they were doing it anyway. It sounds like a recipe for disaster, doesn’t it? Everything in the world could go wrong. A lot of things did. More things didn’t. A lot of things spun out as a result of that little trip across the US. A lot of things turned upside down. Other things turned rightside up. The little trip to see the World’s Fair turned into a cultural lodestone. No one could have predicted it.

Even though it seems like such a horrendously bad idea, I love the idea of just diving in and doing…something. Whatever. When you stop worrying about knowing what you are doing, it can be very freeing. This does not apply to things like surgery or flying a commercial airliner, but going on a long trip? Changing careers? Learning to belly dance? Getting something pierced? Why the fuck not? You never know what gifts serendipity is going to have for you. You never will know if you’re not doing…something.

Later, as the group passes throughYellowstone. Kesey notices a “Beware of bear” sign and Kesey wonders when the meaning of it changed from “be aware of the bear” to “be afraid of the bear” and how being afraid has impacted us on a larger level. Being afraid stops us from trying things, doing things. We should be aware and notice and experience. We should not be afraid. If we ARE afraid, we can make a note of it, and keep going assuming there’s not something life threatening going on. Don’t poke the bear. Be aware of it and stay on your trip.

A lot of times, you will crash and burn..but sometimes you will fly.

It seems like it’s worth it, doesn’t it?

When I was a kid, with less shit to lose, I was a lot more willing to just jump. That wasn’t always a good thing in the short term, and it did result in some psychic bruising, but I wouldn’t really change anything. If anything, I’d have jumped more rather than less. Some positive always, always has come back to me after I’ve jumped.

Learning the value of saying “what the fuck?” is a lesson a lot of us need to learn again when we are older. We get bogged down by all of our belongings and responsibilities and money. We have more of an instinct to beware, and less of an inclination to just be aware.

If we played a lot more, and bewared a lot less, I suspect we would be happier.

So I write. About what I think. All of my secrets. Well, not all. But for the most part if I write something I worry about publishing, I say what the fuck and throw it out there.

I’ll try to do it in real life too.
What the fuck?

But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here
–Radiohead/Creep

Music is evocative. Like Proust’s madeleine, a few notes of a song take you back in time and space. Anyone who has read the blog more than a few times can’t help but see by the copious use of song lyric quotes in my posts that music and lyrics are important to me. That’s only reinforced by how much of my life has always been spent singing.

Rod Stewart reminds me of my Ma.
REO Speedwagon? Neighbor Bryan..
Bob Marley, or at least “No Woman No Cry” belongs to a sweet little guy named Maher.
Marc Bolan and Elton? Brenda
Siouxie and the Banshees and X? Bill H.
Anything by the Bay City Rollers, Billy Squier or the Knack? Sharon.
Michael Jackson? Shawqi, Adel, Raoof, Ali, and Waheeb. And a host of Mohammeds and Abdullahs. (Note that Host of Mohammeds would be a great band name)
Steely Dan? Mark
Elvis Costello, James Taylor, much of the Beatles catalogue? Right. Reminders. All of them. They might as well be marked up with a Sharpie.

Isn’t it great that we don’t have to give away the songs when we stop seeing the people they belong to? It’s bad enough when a song gets so firmly tied to a person that it’s painful to hear it (I’m looking at you, “You’ve Got A Friend”) it would really suck if you physically lost custody of the song too.

Anyone who’s at all musically oriented probably has the same issue. How many songs or artists could I do this with before you were all asleep? One..two…three..four…Four. The answer is four. I have exceeded that, so please wake up now.

Today while I was washing the dishes, listening to Elvis Crespo (who doesn’t remind me of anyone in particular, except…oh…wait…he does kind of remind me of a Turkish guy I met at this Venezuelan dance party in Boston) and noticing what each song reminded me of. Then I found myself wondering what songs remind other people of me. Then I wondered which songs remind me of myself.

Silly, yes? Well, it’s Sunday. I’ve been watching “Pride and Prejudice” and scribbling all day. There may have been some mental atrophy.

There are a few songs that I get tagged with by default–after all, I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s, have brown eyes and my name is Michelle.
I’m going to have “Michelle” and “Brown Eyed Girl” thrown at me with some frequency. It can’t be helped.

There are worse songs to have associated with me, I suppose.

Coming up with songs that I identify with, or that remind me of myself was a little harder.

One of those is “Morning Song” by the Lumineers. You could probably insert any Lumineers song here. I’m pretty sure they go through my diary and steal my thoughts and write songs about them. Bastards. I don’t get any of the royalties, either.

“I Think It’s Going To Rain Today”–Randy Newman. Always a sucker for a sad lyric. I had trouble with people in the 90’s. Yes, I still do, but it isn’t quite as bad.

Lonely, lonely
Tin can at my feet
Think I’ll kick it down the street
That’s the way to treat a friend

“And She Was”–Talking Heads Because…because…I’m always floating away, or trying to.

She was glad about it… no doubt about it
She isn’t sure where she’s gone
No time to think about what to tell them
No time to think about what she’s done
And she was

“Comfortably Numb”–Pink Floyd
Totally me at a certain time in my life. A very long time of my life. There might not been much me there for a few decades. A common problem, I understand.

“Creep”–Radiohead. OK. This is probably my song. If I was a 90’s kid, instead of a 70’s kid, I’d have worn out several copies of it. I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo? Right. Me. Me and every other angst-ridden teenager ever. Except that I was an adult when it came out. Adults can be angst-ridden teenagers too, you know.

“We Walk The Same Line”–Everything But The Girl. Mid 90’s me.

And that big old moon
Lights every corner of the room
Your back aches from lying
And your head aches from crying

Brief pause to jump around while “Been Caught Stealing” played.
Brief pause to listen to X.
Brief pause to sing along to some Bette Midler songs.
Brief pause to wonder if we should tell people our songs when we’re introduced like we used to do with our astrological signs.

Hi, my name is Michelle. I’m a Scorpio, and Creep.

Maybe I should just listen and sing and not analyze so much.
Done.

Well, at least until I get in my car for the ride to work. My morning Mis-guided Meditation will be set to music as always.

Start singing, everyone.
You pick the song!