Shaking off that Lower Nature.

Had a lovely dinner with an old old friend last night; I haven't seen him for almost nine years. He said some wonderful things that he didn't have to say, about music, about me. I found out that a mutual friend, our age, died suddenly of cancer several years back. Within the span of a couple of months. He went to the doctor concerned about weight gain, and within a few months had died.

Life is so, so short.

So, I didn't win that thing I was trying to win. The current dilemna is whether I should buy it now, anyway. It would help me some, I'm sure. My older, less evolved self would slink off into the shadows, pissed that Ms. Thing did not recognize my particular brand of genius and acknowledge it accordingly. Me Now wants to get over it and get on with it. Maybe.

*So* hard to shake off that Lower Nature.

Working from home today, and liking it muchly. I have my songwriting notebook at my side, listening to the magical Guy. Music is making me float. It's so hard to work.

I'm a good little girl, waiting for words. I've been waiting for words for weeks now, weeks. And sometimes I only have to wait hours.

Words fill me these days, just like food.

j.

Conversation.

Date: Today.
Time: A little earlier than Now.

Universe?
Yes?

I realized something today.
And what is that?

I don't think I trust you enough.
Really? Whatever do you mean?

(are you being sarcastic?)
(yes, I am. go on.)

I think I automatically assume that you're just not going to be there for me. I just assume that you're never going to provide what I need.
And why is that?

That's a really long story.
One day we'll have to talk about it.

I know, but not today.
That's okay.

Anyhow, there was this thing I was wanting.
Mmmm hmm.

I just assumed I would never have it.
Why did you assume that?

Because I hold it in my head two-thirds of the time that the Universe is a mean ol' place.
And is it? Am I a mean ol' place?

It's hard not to think so sometimes.
And so?

And so I've been in a bad mood for weeks, thinking how I would never have this thing I really wanted.
And then what happened?

Today - there it was. Suddenly it just showed up. I'm not even talking metaphor. The thing literally just showed up.
It did, didn't it?

I didn't have to go to it. It was just there for me.
It was, wasn't it?

I spent a lot of energy ranting and railing against you, you know.
Yes, I know.

It occurs to me that I could have wasted less time being a sour puss and actually have caused that thing I wanted to happen. Maybe the thing would have happened sooner.
Oh, you're finally realizing that now, are you? Good.

Yeesh, I am such a brat.
Yes, you can be.

Sorry.
It's okay.

I'll probably be a brat again tomorrow.
*sigh* I know. And I'll be proving you wrong again tomorrow.

Can I just take a minute and be thankful?
Of course.

****

j.

I will read. For hours!

Care.
Feeding.
So much to do.
A whole day ahead
and a universe
to achieve in that time.

Brain
reels.
What to do first?
I had a list.

Now it's hours later
and I've only
watched a movie
(somewhat groovy
and Norweigian)
about writers.
I should be writing?

I should be reading!
Today is a day
lost on exercise
and grand plans.

I will read words
and feed my head.

mwah,
j.

Today I tried to win something.

Man, I could use a nap.

It's 5pm. I am yawning like crazy. I am sitting here at work, trying to muster an ounce of focus.

I found out today that my package is pretty good. Better than what I was expecting, at least. If I'm diligent and frugal, like I know I should be, I'll have enough time to do what I need to do.

I am so looking forward to that first Saturday. I swear to God, I'm going to get up at eleven and walk to the library. I can taste that walk on my tongue now, as if it were a watermelon Now&Later.

Today I tried to win something.

I almost won the last thing I tried to win. One of my favorite British singer-songwriters held a contest and the prize was a book he contributed to. He told me that he liked my response, but it would have been expensive to send the book from Britain. *sigh* At least he remembered I'm in the US.

So, today I tried again to win something.

Woke up early. Typed through a standard essay with a nagging sense of "god, this is so typical." It was time to head out, and I thought, "No. We're going to skew this. Way out." I imagined a new starting sentence that really excited me.

And I came to work and wrote the essay. Through crazy deadlines and crappy meetings going on around me.

My essay solicited a response from the prize giver already. Hopefully this means I'm a shoe-in.

Cross your fingers for me.

Heading out to see some good friends tonight, which will be fun.

j.

Easter. Everywhere.

Today I woke up needing music.

*Needing* it, like a life raft I'm sailing on in the center of a lonely ocean.

I packed the ipod today and am listening. Hard.

Dave Dobbyn's Lament for the Numb and Twist are pretty great anytime music.

The pastorale of XTC's Apple Venus is perfect background music to celebrate an atheist's inner easter. River of Orchids is a stunning album opener, complex, winding, deeply beautiful. The imagery in Easter Theater is so gorgeous and bright that it blinds my third eye.

I do love music. I do love the music I love.

Yesterday, I had my intellect bound in knots by Adam Curtis's The Trap.

I felt like I was watching a visual university thesis being put together by a very, very smart man. I watched all three hours yesterday, closely, with furrowed brow. I got his point, eventually.

There's work-work to do and I will start it in a bit, as soon as I can come down off the music high and be where I am for a minute.

Thank you, Adam Curtis, XTC, Dave Dobbyn, for reminding me today what I believe in.


New life,
j.

Notes from a Rainy Saturday.

It's been raining cats and dogs all morning.

And, a garbage bag full of cat litter broke open as I was trying to take it down six flights of stairs.

Still, I am giddy-giddy-happy today, I am a bouncy MoonGirl tripping along the floor of Atlantis, taking in all the sights.

Went to the Whitney last night with a buddy, and wow. Jenny Holzer's Protect Protect was about nine kinds of amazing. I won't tell you anything about it, except to go witness, if at all possible:

http://whitney.org/www/holzer/index.jsp

The Whitney felt like a celebratory exercise after finally getting my taxes filed yesterday.

I almost never have the occasion to go up to Spanish Harlem; usually my accountant is in his office at Grand Central. Yesterday, though, I went uptown. This is an area not yet colonized by Starbucks and The Gap. Delicious food smells from small, non-chain family restaurants basically carried me down the street. The look of the neigborhood is still a bit unpolished, but I whispered a silent *thanks* that there are areas of New York that are a bit rough around the edges still.

I found my accountant's office. Was there about half an hour; the most painful part of my visit was the shockingly bad episode of CSI (or one of those other cop shows with annoying actors and bad dialogue) I had to sit through while waiting. Had a few laughs with him, he gave me what I considered great news, and I bounced out of his office.

God bless e-filing.

Ticked a few items off the to do list this week! Have to re-jig the list tomorrow and get down to it. I'm thinking of going through all my email accounts and getting rid of extraneous messages.

This is not a small task.

I should be making more (any?) music, but I'm not going to push it. I have been notebooking all week, picking out lines of conversation to scribble down right away.

That makes me feel like I'm doing my job.

j.

A day of things.

I woke up this morning to a dream of being in a huge building that exploded and ended up underwater.

I am now listening to a story on WNYC that doctors are changing VA diagnoses from PTSD in order to screw vets out of benefits.

I have a headache.

I'm hoping this mug of coffee will take care of it.

After I get my taxes all filed up (!), I might make a pitstop at The Whitney Museum to see Jenny Holzer's new exhibit. I first discovered her work at The Art Institute in Chicago when I went a few years ago. The exhibit was called Blue Tilt, and it was basically four neon strips with sayings flying by on a ticker tape that read like song lyrics. I sat down in the darkened room and watched the words go by for ten minutes.

BBC7 is running At Home with the Snails. It's sick, but I highly recommend it.

j.

Taxuality.

It's just gone noon.

I am putting the finishing touches on my taxuality.

I found some steak in my fridge and had steak for breakfast. Why does everything taste better with medium-heat salsa on it?

Looks like I am officially breaking out of the cave tonight: I will go to the NaNo writers' group, comments in hand. I'm even considering volunteering for the next one, and resubmitting one of the two stories I wrote for the Gotham class.

I also plan on catching a show on the LES tonight.

There are a million things I should be doing. But, today I will be satisfied with getting my tax worksheet done, and may celebrate with something gooey and chocolate tomorrow, once the taxes are filed.

Good times ahead,
j.

Happy morning.

My cats are crawling frantically over my face. Which means it's time to get up and feed them.

But the weekend is here. It's a great morning.

I was at work until 2am, entering the massive mountain of receipts into my tax worksheet. Today's task is to collect any stray receipts hiding around my apartment, and find all my bank statements and cross check. My spreadsheet should be in great shape by this time tomorrow. Meeting with accountant on Friday.

He's been sending me scary text messages for the past month, asking when my taxes will be ready.

The impending layoffs have set off some interesting tremors at work. My boss is freaking out. It is not pleasant. I've got a spring in my step and a smile on my face; The packages, I'm hearing, are better than I thought they would be. With my savings and my tax refund, I should be able to get by for a while if I'm really frugal.

I'll find out soon.

I'm making a list of outstanding items to take care of over the next couple of months, stuff I've been shrugging off for the longest time.

There's more to say, I might check back in later. Right now, there's a cat waiting at my side patiently to be fed.

Let's feed her, shall we?

j.

A Focus Problem.

Okay. I'm having a focus problem.

My list of things to do is growing so long that it's stunning me into silence.

Never mind the higher order concerns.

I *never* feel like I get enough sleep these days, as well.

It's nearly 4:30pm and I've forgotten to eat lunch.

Hm. Need. Focus. First. Food.

j.

A dull moment? Never. At least, not this week.

Yesterday, I found out that in approximately two to three months, I will no longer have a job.

My company is lopping off 80% of its design operations, like a gangrenous leg. Only three design offices will be left in the nation (and one overseas). New York is not one of them. We're better off here than in other offices: all the other offices are closing on April 17th. At least we get a coupla months notice.

And they're being as nice as they can, considering. There will be a package, apparently.

I am fooling no one - it's not like I haven't been wishing this at the back of my brain for the past year. And now it's here. The careful planning starts now. Damn, I'm going to make this work.

I was in my apartment *smiling*. All morning.

I had a good meeting today. Mr. Producer played me some of his tracks, and some Beatles.

I've always resisted the Beatles. They're so ubiquitous that the anti-social in me has rejected them. But clearly, they were masterful craftsmen, maybe I should give them more of a look-in as I go collecting source material.

I did not have a song for Mr. Producer today. But, I happily plonked on the piano this morning, and came up with snippets that could be something. I feel myself easing into that groove, when my antennae are fully up and everything, I mean everything, could become a song.

I'm feeling pretty good. Nervous. Hopeful. Good.

j.

I have pianoed. A tad.

It's nearly 1pm.

I have pianoed. A tad.

I believe that everyone has an internal rhythm.

(I came to this realization sitting in a guitar for singer-songwriters class at the New School. Every time the teacher would play something, a random progression, anything, what he played implied a bossa nova beat. It was like he walked around with a bossa band in his head.

I started paying closer attention after that, and noticed that my favorite singer songwriters have a favorite rhythmic "area". This is not a bad thing, to have a rhythmic home base that one gravitates toward.)

My internal rhythm, at least as far as the piano is concerned, is slow and arpeggiated. My fingers want to play something pretty and tinkly. It would be nice to have more of a driving rhythmic sense. But, I'll settle for something that holds together in any way shape or form, for the moment. I managed to come up with a few bits that might be usable for something, but nothing I'm motivated to build a song around.

Maybe drums would be a better place to start?

Must fire up the computer and pull out the Upbeat & Aggressive Drums on Demand.

My last day of class was yesterday. It was a bit melancholy. I have a couple of new facebook friends from class, and a couple of people did ask about shows and such. That's good, I suppose.

What I really need is "Booth" story/revision due every 3 weeks. I'm going to see if I can put together a small writer's group from NaNo folks. I'd really like diving deep into someone's work.

j.