Tag Archives: play lists

Stages of Grief

15 Dec

You know that thing when a song comes on, a song you’ve heard a million and one times and you sing it out loud and bob your head and quicken your pace and feel like a badass? But then on the millionth and second time, you hear that same song with totally new ears and the whole meaning of the entire thing just… changes. Yeah, that thing. Just happened to me. Give Arcade Fire’s “Month of May” a listen after yesterday and see if you hear it too. (Lyrics below the video.)

Gonna make a record in the month of May
In the month of May, in the month of May
Gonna make a record in the month of May
When the violent wind blows the wires away

Month of May, it’s a violent thing
In the city their hearts start to sing
Well, some people sing,
It sounds like they’re screaming
Used to doubt it
But now I believe it

Month of May, everybody’s in love
Then the city was hit from above
And just when I knew what I wanted to say
A violent wind blew the wires away

We were shocked in the suburbs

Now the kids are all standing with their arms folded tight
Kids are all standing with their arms folded tight
Well, some things are pure and some things are right
But the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight
I said some things are pure and some things are right
But the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight

So young, so young
So much pain for someone so young, well
I know it’s heavy, I know it ain’t light
But how you gonna lift it with your arms folded tight?

First the built the road, then they built the town
That’s why we’re still driving around
And around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around

Two-thousand nine, two-thousand ten
Wanna make a record how I felt then
When we stood outside in the month of May
And watched the violent wind blow the wires away

If I die in the month of May
Let the wind take my body away, yeah
I wish I may, I wish I might
Don’t lay me down there with my arms folded tight

Start again in the month of May
Start again in the month of May
Come on and blow the wires away
Come on and blow the wires away

Start again in the month of May
Start again in the month of May
Come on and blow the wires away
Come on and blow the wires away

Start again in the month of May
Start again in the month of May
Come on and blow the wires away
Come on and blow the wires, the wires away

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No Way!

4 Sep

 

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Love Songs To Me

12 Jul

Next month would have been my tenth wedding anniversary.  I realized that the other night in the middle of a six and a half mile run, while listening to my running iPod that needs to be updated, but having just survived a long misplacement and then a cycle in the wash, I was happy it was working at all.  A song came on, one that was played prominently at my wedding, and it reminded me: ten years ago, I got married.  Hearing it did not take me back to that day.  It did however, make me run a little stronger.

Ten years is a significant amount of time in a human life.  We mark the passings of decades with honor and celebration.  We smack ourselves on the forehead in semi-feigned shock, wow, has it been TEN years?  Yeah, it has.  Since the demise of my marriage came with such blunt force, swiftly ending a seven year relationship, but then dragging into a two and half year divorce, it has taken the better part of the last ten years for me to first sink under the weight of the emotional brutality and abuse of the relationship, then get sucker punched with financial ruin and a career in disarray before recovering at what feels like a snail’s pace.  A dear friend recently said to me on a hike not to worry, this had simply been my Bad Decade.  He knew because he was having one too.  To finally, FINALLY not quiver at the sound of those notes and instead feel resolute and confident and vulnerable in the good way, told me my Decade Of Suck was truly coming to an end.

I remembered, as the song played and I ran onward, that several years ago, in some then unrealized measure of self-care, I made a playlist called “Love Songs To Me.”  I loaded it with songs that feel sweet and romantic and twisty and tender to me, that one day I would get to listen to with the person who hears them with me in mind and is happy.  And maybe he’d make me a playlist called “Love Song To You” or even better, “Love Songs To Us.”  This is the first time I have ever acknowledged its existence publicly because up until this moment I have felt too fragile to admit I made my own love song list.  I have never felt so unlovable so deeply during some of the very darkest times in the last ten years.  The basic nasty voice said something like, “No one will ever be in love with you enough to make you a playlist for chrissakes, grow up, ain’t gonna happen.  Pay your bills.  Shut up.”  It was too scary to admit even to the closest friend I had done this for myself, the shame muting me to everyone.  But that’s why we have Love Songs.  To remind us we’re worth it, first and foremost to ourselves.

So what’s this one song you might wonder?  Well, of course I have written about it before, even going so far as to call it my personal anthem.  Among the many delicious songs on “Love Songs To Me” it is and will always be my most treasured, perfect, intimate song of all time.

Enjoy.  And then consider what your love songs to yourself are.  We all have to be a little smitten with ourselves from time to time.

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…gonna melt the fever sugar

26 Apr

Tonight, I ran.  And it felt so F’ ING good.

Got some help from Shiny Toy Guns.  I love every single solitary note/lyric/beat/ass-shake of this song.  It makes me want to, you know… run.

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Take A Load Off

2 Feb

It’s Groundhog Day.  It’s Groundhog Day.  It’s Groundhog Day.

Okay, you get it.

January went by in an oxymoron of creeping speed.  Now trying to balance back out.  Seeing my favorite band, Wilco, at The Fox in Oakland on Tuesday night really helped.  Live music always helps.

Here is Wilco doing a cover of The Band‘s “The Weight” in their dressing room with Mavis Staples and Nick Lowe from last December.  It takes that load right off of me.  I hope it does for you too.

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Day 27: Four On The Floor, Six Miles Destroyed!

25 Jul

Blew through six miles with the help of my current power song, “Animal Rights.” Get it on your iPod now if you want to make things go harder better faster stronger. Stick around until 1:01 and be prepared to start shaking your ass.

My cool down song was also apropos. Enjoy the delightful Jakob Dylan, accompanied by Neko Case (!), Kelly Hogan and Paul Rigby, “Nothing But The Whole Wide World.” Song starts at beginning of the video.

BIG day tomorrow. Time to prepare. G’night!

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Day 33: Oreos and Milk and Ryan Adams

19 Jul

Today was one of those days that clicked along happily, no sharp points or draggy lows. I love days like today.

On my run (a mellow, untimed 5.6 miles) I went into the happy zone too, accompanied by Rocco and the magic iPod, some perfect weather, and a bit of self-generated mojo based on reframing any possible excuses to not run. Go me! My thoughts were kind of like this:

I love running.
I love the way I feel right this second, strong and powerful.
I love Tom Petty. Grateful for so many songs, but especially, “Wildflowers.” And the entire album, but especially “Wildflowers” because it is my personal anthem.
I love watching Rocco run. I miss that Duke cannot anymore.
I love the smell of the magnolia trees on the path.
I love that my braided pony tail is drenched with sweat all the way through.
I love catching the hot dads checking me out.
I love Oreos and milk, today’s pre-run snack.
And I so love that this little Ryan Adams video is what started my morning with that dash of perfection. Click it and watch it and love and warm fuzzies will beam out of you because that is the only response that fits.

Sweet dreams.

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Day 34: Long-ish Run, Feeling Better-ish

17 Jul

After using up all my adrenaline watching the Women’s World Cup Final (Team USA lost in a nail-biter to Japan on penalty kicks), I had to use my intended long run for comfort instead of celebration.    And long runs are not necessarily comforting, especially since it is the first “real” one of this training schedule I have concocted.    I had two fantastic 4.75 mile runs with Rocco earlier in the week, and I have actually done a stretch here and there as opposed to my usual zilcho, so I was actually looking forward to doing seven miles.

Here is what “happened,” with explanations and disclaimers after the pic.

Look for the little grey dots for the "pauses" and that's where I made up the .26!

Although the GPS does not lie, it also does not record when I pause the program, and so when I factor back in the paused distances, I did actually run an additional quarter mile, so my total was 6.0 miles.  Whew.  That means only a mile short of the day’s goal, and that is okay with me.  Also, when I paused, I was fumbling around trying to figure out my route, because after mile three I decided to change it up and run toward a path I’ve never been on and so, had to stop for directions so to speak.  That added several minutes on to my split times, so I am thinking I was more like 10:30 per minute.  (I had a slight hangover to contend with too, damn you tequila, yet so delicious.)

On the asthma front, I am no longer in denial of needing the daily medication and have noticed my breath stays calmer longer throughout a run.  Fitness will still help me, so mileage is on the rise until the week before to get stronger.

The two earlier runs this week resulted in a creative breakthrough  too.  Am excitedly drafting a new project and will share soon!

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Kermit: Part III, The Last

19 May

Tonight marks four weeks since Kermit and I parted.  These particular four weeks have been monumentally busy, both professionally and personally, and my gratitude for this jolt of vitality cannot be overstated.  First, it has helped me cope with transitioning to the new wheels.  (Cloth seats are grabby and confusing.  What side is the gas tank on.  Why the eff doesn’t the rear window defroster turn itself off.  Etc.)  Next and more importantly, it has been the catalyst I have needed to go forward again.  I have been forced to be patient with a necessary inertia for close to two years now, a time in which I have learned and grown so much, yet am more than ready to bid farewell.

Saying that to Kermit however has been a lot harder than I thought.  And tonight, on my drive home in the new auto, I saw him sitting at the dealership all shined up with a big price tag in his windshield ready for someone to come take him home.

INT. CAR – EVENING
She bursts into tears.  Tom Petty, “You Don’t Know How It Feels” plays on the radio. 

(No really, that was playing.)

I have been trying to write this last post for the last two weeks.  Yes, work has been crazy, mostly due to the fact that my company has been sold to our biggest competitor in a nearly billion dollar deal, and yes, I took a four-day road trip to Southern Cal, and yes, one of my closest friends got her literal dream job and is moving three time zones away and all the last minute socializing that stirs up, and yes, both my dogs have been on a vet bender, and yes, SEAL Team 6 took out bin Laden, and yes, Kate Middleton’s dress was sublime, and yes, I did get up at 2:45AM to see it live, and yes, all the regular life stuff on top.  Even with the added action I intended to finish the Kermit posts, but every time I sat down to write, only nonsensical crap was coming out.  (I still don’t know if this makes sense or if it properly respects my time with the big green Allroad.)  The only thing I have figured out about why that might be happening is that I’m really missing our groove together and not getting the post done is a slightly immature rebellion in hopes of keeping the memories fresh.

Getting a new car during this time of transition is nothing but positive.  The facts are this: Kermit required more repair work than I could afford, or that he was was worth.  What chokes me up, is that I have always maintained and repaired all of my cars with care and diligence, but as  some very serious financial circumstances closed in on me, deferring maintenance on Kermit was a deliberate decision.  Not only do I miss my car, I feel guilty for nearly killing it.

Then I remembered “The Giving Tree.”  As much as The Boy is a caricature of insolent behavior due to his relentless selfishness, The Tree epitomizes warmth and respect and grace and love.  I will not compare myself to The Boy, but I will compare Kermit to The Tree.  He so consistently took care of me, over the hundred thousand miles we spent together hauling around me and my life, always making me look good, even when I felt very, very bad.  His final good deed was to provide the completely unexpected and sizable down payment for the new car.  To not be able to fix him myself as repayment for his service has troubled me, which I know, sounds absurd.  I am aware that I am describing a car, not a person.  I am aware that Kermit is a machine, worth only how well his parts work and what that market values.

But no matter what, I will forever love and appreciate that car like a member of my tribe, for always taking care of me, and for sticking by me through the very end, and now watching me go forward into my limitless future.

In a few days, I’ll introduce you to the new auto.  Kermit approves.

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Illmerica*

14 Mar

Less than a mile into my much needed run, I came upon a sheriff’s deputy blocking the street.  POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS TAPE was strung across two and a half lanes, redirecting cars into a subdivision that was meant merely for a u-turn as the main drag on the other side of it was apparently blocked off as well.  Was this the same police activity that jammed up my normally five minute commute from the ferry landing to home not an hour before that I assumed was just a bad car accident?  Short answer: Yes.  The deputy saw me coming, and walked over to chat with me as I had a WTF expression on my face.  He told me I could not run past the yellow house, so I would have to turn around.  Irritated and getting tangled in the dogs I turned back, only to be stopped again by a neighbor giving me the scoop.  There had been a bank robbery!!!  Right here in Mayberry!! We talked for a few more seconds, then she yielded her Prius so I could pass and get back on my run.

(For those with less patience than I have (which I do not think is humanly possible), here is what I found out later.  It was not a bank robbery, but a dude with a gun who had a grievance with Bank of America.  He entered the bank, showed the gun, said he was not there to hurt anyone, handed out bottled waters from his backpack to the staff and customers and then let them all go.  He then hung signs on the door about how banks like Bank of America caused the financial crisis, and that this was his protest.  And yes, it was reported that he had a history of mental illness and was possibly not on his meds, but, please note, STILL had a gun.  They talked him out of there by 10PM but not before three local police departments, the county sheriffs, CHP, and the FBI replete with sharpshooters had been deployed to the scene.  Just happy that everyone was fine and hopeful that this man is also offered proper mental health care while he is surely serving time for breaking I don’t know how many laws.  Move your money people, I did and community banking is where it’s at!)

Annnnyyyyyyyyyyway…  back on the path I was struggling a bit after a headcold-induced three-day layoff and the interruption by the banking protest.  Lots of thoughts were jangling around in my head mostly current events related.  The earthquake in Japan: horrifying.  Where the hell has President Obama been hiding lately?  Why didn’t the mainsteam media have one second of coverage of the 100,000+ people protest on Saturday in Madison, Wisconsin?  Oh right, they are all owned by corporate conglomerates.

And honestly, really, WHY THE HELL ARE WE BEATING UP ON TEACHERS?!?!?!!  I noticed this thought coincided with a quickening of my pace, as if my foot strikes were counter-punches to all the hits teachers are taking on the chin from the media.  60 Minutes has now jumped into the fray and broadcast a  Katie Couric report this past Sunday about a charter school in NY that pays its teachers $125K/year.  The idea is to attract the best, most effective, highly skilled teachers, and then pay them what they are worth.  Of course they are still working upwards of 80 hours per week, have no support staff and are expected to show consistent, quantifiable increases in student achievement or they get fired.  (Two of them lost their jobs at the end of that school year.) The reporting was totally lopsided, once again saying that due to those scary powerful teacher unions, bad teachers are intractable and are ruining or have ruined the US public school system.  Bullshit.  BACK OFF THE TEACHERS everyone.  And if your kid is not doing well in school, GO TALK TO THE TEACHER AND THE SCHOOL.  And keep on doing it until you get the problem resolved.  Not that hard. Stop hitting the easy target with meaningless arguments like teachers work six hours a day (yeah, six PAID hours a day), or, teachers get THREE MONTHS OFF every summer and THREE WEEKS OFF at Christmas which is all once again, bullshit. I can barely dignify this crap with a real response, hence all the EMPHASIS.

I was a public high school teacher for four years.  It was, without a doubt, the hardest job I have ever EVER had, and I loved it, but I simply could not make ends meet so I left the field.  Plain and simple.  And I was just getting really good.

What did make me smile in the middle of this run-rant (well before the aptly titled* Wolfgang Gartner song closed out my mileage) was some old Van Halen, dare I say, honoring teachers.  For all my brilliant and dedicated colleagues at ECR and the teachers who busted their asses teaching me for 17 straight years and the teachers in my family, I am hot for you.

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