Singing Lessons

OK.  You may commence laughter.

Yes, I’m thinking about taking singing lessons.  And I’m absolutely serious about this.  I found a teacher in Waterford, about a half hour away from my house.  I’ve also considered trying books and CDs, but I think an actual PERSON would be a better bet for me.

I truly have no desire to be a professional singer.  But I love music so much that it kills me knowing that I can’t really sing.  I can imitate to some extent, but honestly I know I’m off key on a fairly regular basis and I hate it.  I know that some people are natural singers, and I’m not kidding myself – I am not one of them.  But my dad was an AMAZING singer and so is my oldest son, so I’ve got to have some singing blood floating around in my body.  I just need to bring it to the surface.  And for the record, I can do a pretty sexy version of happy birthday when I have someone around who truly deserves it.  So I’ve got that going for me.

Back in the early 90’s when I was hanging out with the renaissance festival crowd (don’t judge, they’re good people), we went out to a bar one night and they had a singing contest.  One of the guys in our group jumped up on stage and sang Little Sister like it was the most natural thing in the world.  No practice, didn’t know the band backing him up.  Nothing.  And he kicked some serious ass. 

I want to do that.  Spur of the moment singing.  In fact, I do that already, even though I sound, uhm, not so good.  But I don’t much care, I’m going to sing anyways.  Singing makes me happy.  Even if it’s just the Rubber Ducky song.  Singing is singing.  But I do have an innate desire to sound better.  Granted, sounding better would likely cause me to sing in public more…so for those of you that actually hang out with me in person, prepare yourselves.

Doggie Thoughts

I had another one of those epiphanies this morning.  I know, you’re tired of them.  But it’s different this time.  This one was about my dog.

I have an almost 4 year old Great Dane named Emmie who was a rescue.  Well, theoretically a triple rescue.  Rescue group got her from a shelter.  Someone adopted her, and then decided they couldn’t keep her.  I took her.  So yes, she’s been shuffled around a lot.  But she’s been with me for a year now and will stay.

The thing is, she doesn’t always like people.  Especially male people.  It takes her a LONG time to warm up to any male that comes into my house.  But I couldn’t figure out why she likes some better than others.  I couldn’t figure out how some of them can actually bribe her with treats, and some she’s still not crazy about.  Then I started thinking about who was who, and how *I* react to those people.

Basically, the more I care about someone, the more she’s uncomfortable.  It’s not like I don’t CARE about my friends and family.  It’s just that the people (or person) that I have more of an emotional attachment to (i.e. romantically) seem to have serious difficulty “winning her over”.  She does NOT like me to spend time with them.  Maybe because she feels she’s being replaced?  Maybe because she feels like she should be my protector, not some piddly useless human.  (I’m quite sure that’s how she would say it.)  Maybe because she feels like my friends and family only “visit”, yet someone like this might be around for longer?  It all kind of makes sense now.

And so, what do I do?

Well, I’m just not sure but I’m working on it.  It’s hard to explain to someone that it’s not that my dog doesn’t like you, it’s that she doesn’t like how much *I* like you.  It’s further hard to explain to them that it’s not unfixable, and that I’m not going to let my animals run my life.  I may have had priorities out of line in the past, but they’re right where they should be now.  She will get used to it.  She really doesn’t have a choice in the matter.  Does that mean I’m going to send anyone packing out in the snow and hope she gets rescued a fourth time?  Absolutely not.  I love my dog.  I will work with my animals, but the bottom line is if I decide I want someone in my life, they’re going to be there.  And she will just need to deal.

And furthermore, the people in my life need to realize that too.  But that’s a post for another day.

The priority ducks are lining up nicely in a perfect little row.   About damn time.

Story of the Day - Enough Fluid

So very much me...

Severed Heads and Other Stuff

In a conversation earlier today, someone very important to me told me that he thought he was going to die when his head became severed from his body.  He SWORE he just knew, though he did say it wasn’t going to happen anytime in the near future.  (thank the gods.) 

Now, I realize that’s a bit graphic and gruesome, but that’s really not what this post is about.  Talking to him made me realize that I have the same sorts of “feelings”.  In fact, I think I always knew I was going to get cancer.  How?  I’m not sure exactly, but I remember seeing the Rose Cancer Center years ago at Royal Oak Beaumont Hospital and thinking “hey, that looks familiar, bet I’m going to be there a lot”.  And so I was…

There are other “feelings” too, from cities and houses that seem overly familiar to me, to people that I swear I’ve known for centuries.  When my momma was alive, she would say that it was because I had an “old soul”.   Perhaps true.  It does make me feel like a serious badass to think that I have an “old soul”.    But is that actually a good thing?

The thing is, I really feel like the cancer is going to come back.  I hate to even write that or say it out loud, but it’s unfortunately how I feel.  Could it be just paranoia?  Perhaps.  Could my unconscious know something?  Perhaps.  Could I just be looking for a reason to not truly live?  Perhaps.  Who the hell knows.  

And no, I didn’t say I was going to die of cancer.  Just that my argument with it isn’t quite over.

Thinking that the cancer will be back at some unknown point in the future does cause its issues, basically because the cancer almost killed me.  And believe it or not, I’m not talking about physically.  The cancer sucked the “me” out of “me”.  It stole SO much from me, just about everything short of my life.  Even when I was cancer free, I was still a changed person in the end.  And not all for the better.  But I clawed my way out and am moving forward.  Baby steps back to the real me. 

That being said, can I really put my friends/family/love in that position again?  Can I really ask them to watch “me” disappear while I climb into my hole and try to survive.  How fucking unfair is THAT?   Granted, the majority would happily be there to support me.  But can I really ask them to potentially put up with me turning into Ms. Queen “don’t touch me” Bitch again?  I’m not so sure.  At the same time, is it fair to run away just because I THINK something might happen?  Uhm…Nope.  So where does that leave things?

I may not have answers, but in the meantime I will try and figure out which visions are truly visions, and which are just my imagination.  Hypochondria does run in my family…

And I offer up a sincere apology to those who had to endure my BS last time.  Although I’ve still got that “feeling,” the fact of the matter is that I am currently alive and well.  To give up and shut down at this early point in the game just seems like quitting.  And those of you that know me, know that quitting isn’t really my forte’. 

Maybe someday people will be able to forgive “cancer” me.  I’m certainly trying to.  And in the spirit of it all, since I AM currently alive and well, I’m going to do my best to hold tightly to what’s truly important.  If the goddam cancer comes back, fine.  I will deal with it then.  I’m a little too busy living right now to let myself continue to obsess about it.

"Lantern" by Josh Ritter

Songs get stuck in my head often these days.  This is what currently resides there…And yes, this is folky.  Deal people.  The lyrics kick some serious ass.

For every cry in the night

Somebody says have faith

Be content inside your questions

Minotaurs inside a maze

Tell me what’s the point of light

That you’ve got to strike a match to find?

So throw away those lamentations

We both know them all too well

If there’s s a book of jubilations

We’ll have to write it for ourselves

So come and lie beside me darling

And let’s write it while we still got time

So if you’ve got a light, hold it high for me

I need it bad tonight, hold it high for me

‘Cuz I’m face to face, hold it high for me

In a lonesome place, hold it high for me

With all the hurt that I’ve done, hold it high for me

That can’t be undone, hold it high for me

Light and guide me through, hold it high for me

I’ll do the same for you, hold it high for me

I’ll hold it high for you, ‘cuz I know you’ve got

I’ll hold it high for you, your own valley to walk

I’ll hold it high for you, though it’s dark as death

I’ll hold it high for you, and then gets darker yet

I’ll hold it high for you, though your path seems blocked

I’ll hold it high for you, through the thieves and the rocks

I’ll hold it high for you, keep you safe from harm

I’ll hold it high for you, until you’re back in my arms

To Delete or Not to Delete

I was looking for a contact in my iPhone today and while scrolling through I noticed that I have an unsettling amount of old phone numbers.  Not “old” as in I need to update them to current numbers.  But “old” as in numbers that no longer exist because people no longer exist. 

I find it sad that I have so many people in my address book that have passed away.   Just doing a quick scroll, I can see at least 10 – and that’s with making little to no effort in a search.

My question to the universe…

When is it appropriate to delete people from your address book after their death?  The thing is, I just can’t bring myself to do it.  It’s not like I’m going to email or call them, duh.  But it seems to me that the actual process of pushing the “delete” button makes it so incredibly final.  And no, it’s not like I think they’re coming back.  I’m not delusional.  I guess I just don’t want to NOT see their names anymore. 

Maybe I need to make room for the living in my address book?  Maybe I need to let go? 

Maybe it’s more than just my address book that needs a little housekeeping?

Well, that's not easy at all

While sitting in the hospital waiting room today, I was texting my amazing wonderful friend telling her how crabby I was.  Being crabby for me is a bit out of character.  At least, being crabby for this length of time is out of character for me.  Thing is, I’m a silver lining kind of girl.  Glass half full.  “This too shall pass” as my momma used to say.

And yet, I can’t seem to get past a mountain of things at this very moment.  The following is part of the text conversation:

Her:  How long will the surgery take?

Me:  An hour I think.  It’s just interesting sitting here by myself.  Lots of time to think.

Her:  Whatcha thinking about?

Me:  Just lots of stuff going on.  Parent crap.  Kid crap.  Lots of people are frustrating me right now.  But maybe I’m the idiot cuz I’m the common denominator.

Her:  It’s very possible.  Surely you are contributing to the problem in some way.  Give me the list baby!  J

Me:  {list of names}.  The list of people that annoy me is bigger than the list of people that don’t.  And that’s just sad.  Plus my house is a fucking pit and everytime I intend on cleaning I just go to bed.  Fairly fucked up I’d say.

Her:  Fairly normal I’d say.  Me and you have the same problem.  I know I’m a huge part of my problem so I gotta assume you are a huge part of yours.  J

Me:  I’m starting to see the light.  I just don’t seem to have the inclination to do anything about it.

Her:  Seeing is the first step.

Me:  Yeah.  Now I need a nap.

Her:  Napping is not step two.

Me:  Duly noted.

Her:  Let me know when you’re ready for step two.

A few hours later…

Her:  How’s your mom?

Me:  OK.  She’s in a room complaining.  What’s step two?

Her:  Step two is deciding, now that you recognize you have a problem, whether or not you want to do anything about it.  Or if you just want to accept things as they are.

Me:  No.  I can’t just accept it.  I’m pretty crabby these days.

Her:  Me too.  Step three is to decide what you want.  Cause you can’t figure out how to get to a place if you don’t know what that place is gonna be.  So, you work on that part and then we’ll figure out the how together.

Me:  Well, that’s not easy at all.

And there you have it.  DUH!!!  Not sure why I didn’t realize the "real" problem sooner.

I, in fact, have no frickin’ idea what I want out of life at this moment.  At one point, fairly recently (as in over the past few years) I did.  Now I don’t.  What the hell happened?  Was it cancer?  My dad’s death?  Taking care of my mother?  My series of messed up relationships?  Watching my plan to move to Montana after my youngest graduates disappear like Brigadoon?  My extremely wonderful yet unfulfilling job?  Who the hell knows. 

I do know that I’ve got to get it figured out post-haste.  Crabby me is just unattractive and irritating.  And if I'm unattractive and irritating to myself, the rest of the world must be at the end of their ropes dealing with me.