Saturday, April 14, 2012
What works.
(Blogger is inserting random underlines in my blog. These are not my doing. Ignore, read on, enjoy)
If there's a lesson we can all take from Hollywood, it's that we should just go with what works. This is why every Tom Cruise movie is really all about his hair (its gorgeous...have you noticed?) and his sprinting skills, and every John Cusack movie will feature a scene where Cusack is sad, in the rain. It just works. Directors know this stuff going in, and so if there's a script out there with Tom Cruise in it, he simply must say to his underlings, "wait, where's the running scene? Write that in, and let's have an extra camera just for his hair."
Being at an in-between chapter of my life, I feel like I'm somehow more likely to get unsolicited advice. I've heard just about all of the catch phrases and pick-me-ups aimed at single women over thirty, and I feel like people don't believe me when I say, "no really, I'm good..."
All in all, I'm not bothered by the friendly punches to the shoulder a la "go get 'em, champ" and the advice to "get out there" and "you're still young, you have time," and I wasn't even bothered by the generous offer of semen. Yep...semen, like, "oh, it's it about that time...here, I know how to help." The thing that bothers me the most is when people say, "whatever is meant to happen will happen."
First off, there is no comfort in thinking that your path is all paved out in front of you. I don't like the idea of predestination because it's sick to think that I'm already doomed into some fate that was written for me by a conspirator somewhere in the ether of eternity. I know this is meant as a comforting phrase somewhere along the lines of 'it'll work out in the end."
But it's not. It's putting your faith about the future not on your own decisions, not on your own efforts, but in the idea that we're all coasting across the stage of life hung precariously on puppet strings. I think back to when my cousin and I used to play with Barbie dolls, and even at 9 or 10, commenting on how weird it would be if there were someone invisibly directing our lives as we did with our dolls. Even then it creeped me out, and that feeling never left.
As I get multiples of the "whatever is meant to happen will happen" phrase, I wonder...do people really believe that? Do they allow life, or pursue living?
I can't deny anyone their philosophies on life, and hell, maybe this shit is more scripted than I'd like to believe. However, for right now, I'm going to stubbornly cling to the idea that I'm writing this as I go, relying on the tried-and-true patterns of my own behavior to lead me and guide me out of this cavernous and confusing chapter in a comfortable fashion that works for me.
And now to illustrate that going with what works is an equation for awesome:
Which leads me to what works for me...which isn't to believe "what ever is meant to happen will happen," to decline any of the offers for baby-making, or to feel like I require anything whatsoever other than my own acceptance of self.
And now, off to watch Say Anything.
Skeptically Yours.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Bigskeptic is in Love...
...with Spotify. Tried it?
Since music ranks up there as one of the most potent, poignant, and pervasive (alliteration RULES!) aspects of my life, I think these people have hit the nail on the proverbial (okay, I'm done with the letter "p") head. Based on the fact that folks like me will buy hundreds and hundreds of dollars of music every year, I think sites like Spotify have the right idea in letting you build playlists and discover artists, essentially test driving your music before you get incredibly hooked and plop down your dough.
The only problem...and it's actually a large one...is that with the free music, I've been building playlists for everything. Most of my memories of major events or major people are tied up in the music from that moment, and sometimes it's absolutely comforting or enjoyable. Sometimes...sometimes it drags me down to wallow in the funk of yesteryear.
Some of the music I found on Spotify is way too personal, as it belongs to an ex of mine's old band. That brings me to think not just of the past, but of past-love fuck-ups that I have made. You can imagine with that, I've built a LOT of playlists.
I was told once that being consistently the one that walks away from relationships is a major red flag. I would completely agree---if I weren't me, I certainly wouldn't date me. Does that make sense? I mean, I do sort of have a pattern. I wrote a blog not too long ago....Rage Rage Against the Dying of the Light...and I was damned determined to stop protecting my heart in order to allow myself to feel things, to put myself out there..and blah blah blah.
The inner Skeptic is still winning, folks, because whenever I get the nudge of an emotion trying to peek out and draw attention to itself, I poke it to death until it retreats. Being vulnerable, even for the mere 22 seconds that I gave it a go, is terrifying. In that small window of time, I think I was more frightened than I had been in my entire life.
It isn't easy, and your humble narrator gets a big, fat "F" in my efforts to release the control and allow myself to feel elation, love, disappointment, heartbreak. I thought I was cruising along okay until I made the mistake of looking backwards, of listening to the music of that one particular ex. He sings in one track, "I was meant to stay and fight, you were meant to burn out bright, and we were not meant to go quietly into the night." It was poignant...
Burning out bright---that really means getting the hell out of dodge while everything is still good and perfect, before it starts to fade and temper your memory of it. I have always walked away, minus a few times, at the very peak. The inner skeptic yells "flee! Run! It's about to get shitty!" And of course, I listen.
Still, even with the songs that bum me out, Spotify has become my new best friend, allowing me at least honestly and quietly feel whatever the hell I need to feel, freely, and to choose to share (publish playlists) or keep it to my damn self (private playlists.) For that, I am thankful.
For a taste of some of the tunes I've been listening to, check out some of my playlists on Spotify here:
Grit
Winona
Beach Rd.
DRUMS
Skeptically Yours.
Since music ranks up there as one of the most potent, poignant, and pervasive (alliteration RULES!) aspects of my life, I think these people have hit the nail on the proverbial (okay, I'm done with the letter "p") head. Based on the fact that folks like me will buy hundreds and hundreds of dollars of music every year, I think sites like Spotify have the right idea in letting you build playlists and discover artists, essentially test driving your music before you get incredibly hooked and plop down your dough.
The only problem...and it's actually a large one...is that with the free music, I've been building playlists for everything. Most of my memories of major events or major people are tied up in the music from that moment, and sometimes it's absolutely comforting or enjoyable. Sometimes...sometimes it drags me down to wallow in the funk of yesteryear.
Some of the music I found on Spotify is way too personal, as it belongs to an ex of mine's old band. That brings me to think not just of the past, but of past-love fuck-ups that I have made. You can imagine with that, I've built a LOT of playlists.
I was told once that being consistently the one that walks away from relationships is a major red flag. I would completely agree---if I weren't me, I certainly wouldn't date me. Does that make sense? I mean, I do sort of have a pattern. I wrote a blog not too long ago....Rage Rage Against the Dying of the Light...and I was damned determined to stop protecting my heart in order to allow myself to feel things, to put myself out there..and blah blah blah.
The inner Skeptic is still winning, folks, because whenever I get the nudge of an emotion trying to peek out and draw attention to itself, I poke it to death until it retreats. Being vulnerable, even for the mere 22 seconds that I gave it a go, is terrifying. In that small window of time, I think I was more frightened than I had been in my entire life.
It isn't easy, and your humble narrator gets a big, fat "F" in my efforts to release the control and allow myself to feel elation, love, disappointment, heartbreak. I thought I was cruising along okay until I made the mistake of looking backwards, of listening to the music of that one particular ex. He sings in one track, "I was meant to stay and fight, you were meant to burn out bright, and we were not meant to go quietly into the night." It was poignant...
Burning out bright---that really means getting the hell out of dodge while everything is still good and perfect, before it starts to fade and temper your memory of it. I have always walked away, minus a few times, at the very peak. The inner skeptic yells "flee! Run! It's about to get shitty!" And of course, I listen.
Still, even with the songs that bum me out, Spotify has become my new best friend, allowing me at least honestly and quietly feel whatever the hell I need to feel, freely, and to choose to share (publish playlists) or keep it to my damn self (private playlists.) For that, I am thankful.
For a taste of some of the tunes I've been listening to, check out some of my playlists on Spotify here:
Grit
Winona
Beach Rd.
DRUMS
Skeptically Yours.
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