Understanding One Album at A Time

I've been twiddling my thumbs with anxiety, chomping at the bit, and ignoring all the calls from friends because I don't want to spill the beans. There is so much news to report, but I just can't do it right now. There's that whole superstious side of me that that doesn't want to jinx it. Hopefully, i'll be able to say something soon. Very soon. Just not tonight.

I've been reading a book titled Love is a Mix Tape written by a contributing writer of Rolling Stone. I thought it would be a simple book about the 80's and 90's when everyone put there hearts out on the line with a cassette tape. From a time when we spent hours in front of the radio waiting for that one, perfect song that would somehow transform the mix tape from worldly to heavenly. The frosting on the cake. Unfortunately, the songs often were jaded by dejay-type introductions or the start of commercial break at the very end. Or worse yet, dedications to someone that wasn't the recipient of the said mix tape.

And the book is all of those things. It talks of a simpler time for a while; back yard barbecues, drinking beers on the curb in the company of friends, staying up all night listening to albums. But the book is also so much more than that (and what I didn't expect) which is his wife dying of an embolism in her late 20's. What kind of mix tape do you create after that? What music can soothe that kind of pain? Can music really bring us back from the brink? Is it really that powerful?

I'm not one to speculate that kind of heartbreak. Or pain. Ironically (since the book is actually about mix taples), the one thing this book has made me realize is that I am too quick to take advantage of my digital culture. I have come to believe that an album is a life story put forth by the artist. Written and arranged just so to convey their deepest thoughts, desires and message. In a show of disrespect, I am so quick to log on to itunes, grab the one song that appeals to me off an album, and disregard all the rest. But the pieces make the whole and I am missing so much more that could be there. I equate it to someone picking just a few stories out of my life biography. Those few stories don't make up the whole understanding of me. The same is true with an album. And the fact that I have done that makes me sad. In an inexplicable kind of way.

So i've turned the ipod off shuffle for a while, even pulled a few cd's out of retirment and just listened to the whole thing. One song after another. And I feel like maybe I finally understand.

And The Angels Sang Hallejulah!

Things that deserve the almighty Hallejulah, amen:

My dansko's have arrived. And although they make my feet feel like they are in a straight jacket, I hear that I will adjust, and they will stretch out. I just hope they are as good as everyone swears.

Working 7-3.30pm. Yes, I have to drag my butt out of bed before the sun even finds it acceptable to wake up but it also means I have 2 blissful hours of no customers. I also have the satisfaction of walking out when half the staff walks in.

Non sugar, non fat Carmel Machiato from Starbucks. Delicious and body conscious. Add in my employee discount and I can ride on the wings of angels for a blissful 30 minute lunch break.

Thanks to my DVR, I FINALLY got to see the season finally of Project Runway, and the fierce Christian did take the title. I bow to the greatness that is his 21 year old mind.

My mad google skills that allowed me to find John Mayer's secondary blog after he had shut down his official one. I don't know how I would get through my week without his clever (and HILARIOUS) commentary on his life & the whole aura surrounding celebrity. Unfortunately, Mr. Perez Hilton has also found it and has been linking it on to his own website. Is nothing sacred?

Verizon Wireless' New-Every-Two. Yes, my phone works and is decent shape but it was never something I really wanted. It's ugly and I took it only because it was the only Motorola and at that senseless point in my life I for some reason thought that Motorola was the be all and end all of cell phones. I've upgraded and it's great.

A GREAT sushi restaurant that is about 5 miles away. We had found a decent restaurant on the east side of the city but it took about 45 minutes to get there and the food was edible, but not great. Bayridge is great. Their spicy tuna actually surpasses Mikado's in GR.

And lastly, finding out, that it really is just all about positive thinking.

I'm Back. I Swear.

It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon and i've only been up for an hour. And when this new job isn't reaking havoc on my sleep schedule, i've spent my free time massaging my feet and self medicating with ibuprofen (while secretly wishing I could just attach my self to a morphine drip instead).

Yes, it certainly feels like 3 steps back. Or a bad reaccuring dream - wasn't I just here 5 years ago - to which the dreadful answer is indeed, yes I have been here before. But hopefully, it won't be long before I can pick up my lunch sack and head somewhere else. Afterall, I happen to be a glass half full kind of girl and I hope that my sacrifice (3 steps, remember?) ensures that we will progress one step forward in the next year.

We've already had a conversation (or 2 or 2 million, depending on which one of us you ask. I'll admit it, i'm also a girl who doesn't like unresolved scenarios) about moving down here. I could have a full time job (that hopefully would be 7 steps up from the one I have now) while going back to school; We would have our own place, with our own things, with our four-legged friend. And if worst came to worst, which it may or may not, the economy down here is a tad more friendly to those of us who are unemployed.

The inevitable moment where you reach the fork in the road. That's us. And has been for about the last 2 years.

For now we forge on, quietly and efficiently working towards our year end goal: home, pup, school, more stable job (? the last one is always a guessing game). Last year was a year of personal results for me, now I want this to be a year of results for the both of us.