You are overwhelmed, tired, feeling like the walls are closing in and all you want to do is go… go for a drive and have time to think… Listen to music, angry, soft, loud, emotive, piercing, any music to calm the mindPod… but no. Your keys are in your hand. Your tank is full (well, sorta, you never can tell since you tend to run out when the gauge reads in the neighborhood of half tank), you have a little cash for snacks and a plan, or rather non-plan, but that is the plan, but no. None of it matters, you are fucking stuck. You can’t just go. Can’t go to your favorite breakfast place to read a book and people watch. Can’t just drive and sing loudly to the same song over and over because it is what you feel right that moment. Can’t spend the day hiking along the bluffs or go kidnap your best friend to get lunch somewhere he’s never been.You no longer have that option.

Sometimes its just like that…. you sit. With your head in your hands. You sit with your head in your hands because no matter how many reasons you can find to blame someone else, the choice that brought you to this place was yours. You put yourself on this stoop with your keys in your hand next to a vehicle that is completely unsafe to take more than 15 miles without AAA and telling everyone you care for where you’re going and which route you’re taking. You made a poor choice and it was not the first time, its just visible to more people than the rest have been.

Sometimes its just like that… the ripples in your pond- the decisions you’ve made, those choices you have found ways to put band-aids on and share blame with others; or pawn off on them completely, or better yet, decisions you’ve chosen to ignore all together…. those are making the ripples in your pond. They have started to clash into each other and make bigger ripples and even waves at this point. So much so that you can’t ignore the ripples and you can see those fucking waves from your stoop. The truth is reflecting back in a way that is certainly not as pretty as it was from the glassy pond…. but reality, you threw those fucking rocks, help or no, they left your hands before hitting the water. River rocks, giant stones, small pebbles, chunks of concrete, tar from the road… they all came from you and you have to feel the effect. You are responsible for the fact that all water sports have been suspended until further notice.

It’s time to to calm the water and bring it back to a glassy pond. Time to find the bluff that lets you look down at your reflection and forgive yourself because try as hard as you like… you can’t jump in and pull out what you threw in. You can’t undo the past. You can only forgive yourself and realize it will take work to calm the waters, to trust yourself to hold a skipping stone. It will take time to find the calm and face your reflection once more.

Sometimes… its like that… you must climb to the top of the bluff to find forgiveness. It is difficult and steep.  It’s taken a long time to even get here… you’ve stopped a few times (even threw another pebble or two). But you are here now. The top of the bluff is within your reach. When you get there and see your reflection clear from the peace forgiveness brings, bring back the water sports… jump off the bluff on a sunny day, into the glassy water and make a new kind of ripple.

singing man

This week, well the last two, have been about as much as I can take on this ride. But its fortunate I have a vast collection of music to shuffle through my mindPod (and actual shite too if you must know… between the collections is about two solid months of non stop tuneage) and I happened to land on Austin Lucas. Ahhh Austin Lucas. Not a well known musician, though he should be. And today, he is my hero. His style may not be for all but he was exactly what I needed. Most specifically his song Singing Man.

The past few weeks have been that of feeling weak and inadequate. Regardless  of what anyone said or did I wasn’t going to get it. That is the nature of the little car that whirrs me round. But when its quiet and I can’t hear anything I tap my dbase of songs and here it is… Austin Lucas. So today was my dad’s birthday (dude! 69 – he’s gonna throw that around all year because he’s dirty… GROSS!). I hate family events for more reasons than I can tell you today but the short version is because my sister somehow  – with her super powers (do you get those during child birth? if so I may have to rethink shit) – flip-floped me in the line of birth order and is now the oldest instead of youngest and has a complete vulcan mind-meld hold over my mother. I think its because she is married and has a child and I myself have neither, in fact I do not want child and I am divorced, thus I am broken. so there’s that… So I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t. I know I disappointed my bro, and I hate that. But to be fair I was unwell on Sunday but, it was made all the worse by my anxiety. I felt well…. weak and small and like I mattered little. My solution was to say hey, I’ll come over on his actual birthday! So the last three days I kept hearing the words…

‘I had followed her on
Until breathlessly she said
Here’s my hand, won’t you take it, won’t you?
You are not weak
And not small
In my eyes you are mighty’

I realized its only in my own eyes that I am weak and small. I may not be the singin man but I cause my own shit storm sometimes. I need to realize she is the youngest, I am the oldest, I am not weak and not small but rather a person who is mighty…


this is just him which to me is more pure, because if you are struggling within – you don’t hear harmony. I sing and I don’t hear harmony. Though the link above has the harmony’s with the female voice (who I’m ashamed to say I don’t know).



Thanks Austin, needed you this week and thanks for the tweet…


WoW: Exercise 22 – Select a piece of music that reflects the mood of writing you’d like to aim for. Press play. Start free writing. Write the first words that come into your head. When the music’s over, so is the writing. I’d recommend finding out how long the song is before you start the exercise. You may feel cheated in your writing time if you pick a song by The Ramones. Of course, if you feel like writing a short, punky piece by all means, go for it!

the slope

I don’t think I’m boring, well, maybe I am boring. I never used to think I was boring. Okay I’m not its just one of those days.

Sometimes its like that when you are sitting listening to your friend talk about her life and things… I think I may have fallen off into the abyss of canned pears in heavy syrup boring. I never used to think that. I never used to think I was vanilla but lately when I look in my closet at the 25 long sleeved plain colored layering t-shirts I start to think there is a distinct possibility mensa may skip my house in favor of other applicants (mine were written in sharpie you know, color makes a statement).

So lately I’ve been feelin a little on the short scale of the bell curve. I’m feelin kinda like that kid who’s friends point over there, then swipe his chocolate milk because he looks, over there, every time. And then wonders where the hell he put his chocolate milk.

Today is a blue day. A Vanilla blue day. My real life is full of amazing and creative and brilliant and fearless people. I have been on a mission to slough of those that suck away my own creative energy… and yet still… today.

I feel like I am staring through the window watching the cool kids. I’m wearing my cute clothes that make me have a girl shape and I am here, staring… watching through the window hoping that instead of just wandering out on occasion to say hi or chat or get away from the annoying bitch they came with and laugh with me for a minute, they’ll want me to come in… and hang out, sit at their table. Maybe some of whatever it is they have will spill onto my plate and it will make me feel less small. Maybe I won’t feel so weak and vanilla. Maybe I will remember how it used to be to be pink. Yesterday. And then I can get out of this bed and pick up that magazine from the New York Times Sunday Paper that keeps taunting me, and I can remember…