Tag Archives: fail

Most of the Talents Are Ones I Don’t Have

9 Oct

I have always wanted to play the piano. That’s not true — not always — but since being a teenager I have. I wanted to be at the bench, pounding away while singing into a microphone and making people want to dance (more Jerry Lee Lewis and less Tori Amos). Every time I hear Elton John, I see myself gingerly bringing “Honky Cat” to life. Exploiting all the jangly glory of those keys. On the softer side I hear Chopin and envision myself swaying passionately from side to side in a sweeping movement while being intertwined in the melody of “Fantasie Impromptu: Opus #66”. It’s closely related and only marginally tailed by my other dream of dancing. Without really thinking about it, my imagination’s eye starts rolling film of me — all bendy and powerful — dancing in the fashion of the 80’s “Fame” movie. It’s intense in my heart. Like the feeling you get when you start to really think about your favorite desert: it’s so good and so real you can almost taste it, but outside your power to create, or recreate.

My dancing career began and ended when I was six, though, on account of the high cost of lessons, and the work of taking me to a class (I also think my propensity for booty-shaking versus more ballet-type moves made my mother less motivated for me).

But the piano was always in the house. We always had our lovely, antique upright with a bench full of music. I spent a good deal of time playing around on it, and even had a lesson or two, but I backed slowly away. My sister was a masterful, self-trained pianist (still plays keys professionally), who could recreate Beethoven melodies on her own. In my elementary years I came under the impression that my instructor preferred teaching my sister (at this age I can’t recall if I “heard” her say that, or if I misinterpreted something else that was said), and I requested to no longer take lessons. I had such difficulty with my practice, that it seemed very plausible to me that I was equally difficult to teach. It seemed to disambiguate and simplify everyone’s life for me to definitively claim that I was not musically inclined, so I did, and so I’ve been.

It’s my nature to back away from other people’s passionate interests, or their lime-light. That’s not to say that I don’t eagerly leap into any unoccupied lime-light, but I find no pleasure in stealing another person’s thunder, as they say. I enjoy attention and recognition, but I don’t enjoy competition. The best way to avoid competition is to find my own — my very own — interests. Also, competing with my sister was paramount to competing with Beethoven himself, in my child’s mind: certain defeat.

As an adult, though, I just can’t deny that I love the piano. Maybe I’ll never get around to mastering that Chopin piece, but I believe I could learn enough to bring me satisfaction. I believe I could be good enough to sing along to. I’m not sure where to start…

With so many things I have this burning desire to “become…” but I just can’t see the first step. I’m tired of riding on the waves of life (like a flag tossed about by every wind), and only impulsively finding new adventures. I want to get There from Here, intentionally.

As for the dancing dream, I just need an empty warehouse and some awesome song blasting from the tape deck of my nearby VW.

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10 Sep

I like to view this year as an experiment.  I’m doing trials on separation, travel, motherhood, single-motherhood, long-distance love, living with family, packing a car, and lonesomeness.  Most of these were predictable from the first time I learned we would face this deployment (Valentine’s day, 2010).  I was even able to anticipate some of the side-effects.  For instance, I realized that I would learn to live “normally” without my husband; I would get used to him being gone, essentially.  I knew I would become homesick for my own territory.  I knew Young G would develop cognitively with an awareness that we travel often and live without Daddy.

One of the side effects of this year has begun to intrigue me, because I never expected it: paranoia. Continue reading


3 Aug

When we packed up and left Hawaii, I put my entire music catalog on an external hard-drive. I have a PC Netbook with very little memory, so the external drive is where all my important stuff lives. I’m really proud of my music collection, and obsess over it a little. So, it bothers me that all my play-counts when back to “zero”. The plan lately is to listen to all my music again.

Ben Kweller is playing right now.

My whole life music has helped me feel connected to the world around me, and kept me from feeling isolated in my misery.  This is a good year to allow music to minister to me again, now that I haven’t got the HD.


I’m so tired right now.  I’m exhausted with the feeling of obligation that I have.  I’m so tired of making other people happy.  I just want someone to bend over backwards for me, go out of their way, over-extend themselves, and throw me a surprise party. Continue reading

30 Days Hath September

1 Oct

Thirty days I’ve been home with the HD (after August was spent with him away at training) and we’ve spent most of them arguing.

It’s so strange to argue because he and I so seldom disagree on anything.  From spontaneous urges to how we want to be buried to principles for right living, HD and I see eye-to-eye.  But then some tiny thorn pricks the heel of one of us, and we stubbornly demand that we are right, and the other is unjust.  It’s almost scary how unwavering we can become in our positions against one another.

Invariably, though, the morning brings clarity and kisses over fresh coffee.  The sad part is when things get said that can’t be redacted.  We seem to embrace with caution, and that’s the absolute wrong way to embrace your spouse. Continue reading


23 Sep

Transparency doesn’t work for me out here.  I spend every minute of my life as transparent as oil-soaked paper, thanks to my tell-all eyes, and that’s enough, thank you.  Out here in the world of blogs, though, I need a different type of transparency: the ability to speak my mind without being identified.

I know *you* know who I am, but be discreet, for once in your life. I’m kidding.

I used to blog my heart out, and say, “fuck” a lot.  Maybe I don’t curse as much as used to, but I should be able to swear whenever it arises, right?  Everything is edited for content for fear of incrimination, culpability, and litigious exes.  Our mothers read our Facebook status and our husbands follow our Tweets and every Mama I’ve met offers me parenting advice on the “Family Blog”.  The incidences of cyber stalking increase with every export of new pictures from iPhoto.  I’m aware of the lurkers.  Or –rather — I assume their presence because I know how I am prone to do so, as well. Continue reading

Pt 2

26 May

Let me be fair:  I am not putting the responsibility on my husband here.

I am upset with my own life, my own choices.

My diplomas hang in mockery on my wall.  So much hard work and nothing — NOTHING — to show for it.  Last year I had a taste of purpose as I sat in my office at Columbus State University, but that didn’t contribute much.  The $3000 a year earned there wasn’t enough to weigh in. Continue reading


30 Mar

… Just because I’m an expert doesn’t mean I’m perfect.

Today Young G rolled off my bed with a thud.  I covered the ten feet between us in a bound and had him in my arms before he could let out the first wail, but oh my, did he wail!

My heart raced and my head spun thinking of the pain his whole little body must feel from the two-and-a-half foot drop.  I held him close until finally my thoughts calmed enough for me to inspect him. No blood.

He began to nurse quickly and I checked his limbs. His skull seemed intact.  His eyes weren’t unfocused.

Dear Jesus! Protect my child in spite of me!