The Blog Blues

I have the “Blog Blues”. I could tell myself all the reasons why it is everyone else’s fault, but clearly it is me. I have the issues. I have the hang ups. I have the blues.

This morning, when I finally convinced myself that the floor wasn't going to eat me alive if I put my toes on it (has anyone else had that feeling as a kid?) and drew myself slowly out of my cocoon of blankets, I decided that I was going to get ready in silence today.

Normally, I would have the local radio station on and I would listen to my husband on his morning show and pick up my phone to text him constantly, trying to add my two cents worth only to have him not read the texts until way later. 

If the kids are home, Lauren will have her “getting ready for school” music on and I, in an act of utter horror to her and utter joy to me, will ask her to turn it up and proceed to sing along. What doesn’t a good rap song get you in the mood for anyway? The worst thing I could possibly do is to add some “hip” dance moves and I really throw some good moves in in my big girl panties and bra on as I strut by her room. GASP.

Yes, proof that I do have a fun and carefree side dipped in a little bit of evil as far as my kids go.

I digress.

Today, it is just me and silence and I make this choice because I woke up thinking about something that I have been thinking about a lot lately-writing.

When I was in grade school and high school, I fancied myself a writer. Even more, to boost my writing ego, I had poems published and short stories and wrote the lyrics to our class song for graduation, in which yes, I sang in front of everyone (and I have never fancied myself as a singer), but didn't care because my best friend wrote the notes itself and I wrote the words and it would forever go down in history as the song no one will remember as the class song because it never was a song that you could hear on the radio and could turn and say to your kids, “Hey, kids, this was our class song”.  In hindsight, this was brilliant on my part because I can make it anything I want it to be. I can tell tales of how everyone was in tears and then had their lighters out and asked for autographs and I was asked to write more songs for more graduations. I could say that the boys needed my phone number because they wanted to keep in touch with me when I became famous. All of this was not the truth, of course.

Lately, I have had this song in my head: 

NE-YO, “Let Me Love You (Until You Learn to Love Yourself)".

The song applies a lot to me and not at all to me all at once. Here is the first verse:

               “Much as you blame yourself, you can’t be blamed for the way you feel,

               Had no example of a love, that was even remotely real,

               How can you understand something that you never had” 

(Up until here is all what I could say if I were to write the song), and then it goes into:

“Ooh baby if you let me, I can help you out with all of that. Girl, let me love you and I will love you until you learn to love yourself. Girl let me love you and all your trouble, don’t be afraid, girl let me help, Girl let me love you and I will love you until you learn to love yourself.”

 (That is the money line for me…the one that tugs at my heart strings and makes me realize that if my husband could write this he would have).  Then it goes on to say:

               “Girl let me love you. A heart of numbness, gets brought to life, I’ll take you there.”

This is followed by a series of “Girl’s” and “Baby” and “Yo” and“Love you”, “Love me”, ya-da ya-da.

Next verse:        

“I can see the pain behind your eyes, it’s been there for quite a while. I just wanna be the one to remind what it is to smile. I would like to show you what true love can really do. Girl…” (insert all the above series of lines), and then “A heart of numbness gets brought to life, I’ll take you there.”

That basically is the song. The song moved me. It did. I kept thinking, now that’s love, hanging in there carrying you when you can’t carry yourself. However, upon further review, I have no like for the song at all. Ne-Yo, or anyone who dares say those words, needs to know that no amount of love or carrying or anything like that will get someone to love themselves. It is a nice gesture, but unnecessary and really not true.

So, say one day, that person all of a sudden starts to love themselves and thinks, “I don’t need you, Ne-Yo, to tell me what to do. I am perfectly capable of this love thing all by myself”.  Then what happens?

…back to me getting ready this morning…

I am taking a good hard look at myself in the mirror. “What’s it going to take to make me happy? What do I have to do to take the power back into my own hands and allow myself to be happy? What tools am I missing?”

I know what I used to love to do that brought me so much joy and that was what lead me to my, “Blog Blues”.

I loved to blog. Nothing was off limits. Nothing was too trivial and I didn’t care if anyone read it or not, it just felt good to do it. Then, the unspeakable happened. I, unknowingly, had breached blog etiquette, if there is such a thing and did a heinous, unspeakable crime. I blogged about something that made someone else angry because they thought it was about them. (The song, “You’re so Vain,” is now playing in the background of my head). Next line:

“You probably think this blog is about you”.

The blog was mine. The thoughts were mine. The feelings were mine and now, someone else’s emotions and feelings were running the show and ruining the joy I felt by letting the words flow.  That was it. End of scene.

Did I mention I am stubborn? Pig headed? Don’t like to be told what to do? Did I also mention that even though I am all those things, I will listen to everyone else before I will listen to myself? True story.

So, days went into weeks. Weeks went into months and blogging was always on my mind. It is like the boyfriend that is your world and then he breaks up with you and you are constantly running into him and he is looking so good and you end up just hating him. That was how I felt about blogs. I kept running into links for blogs that I used to read, wanted to read, should read, but would resist reading because I was angry and didn't like it that someone else could blog and I couldn't.

Who put these rules on me? When did I become the bitter blogger? When did I get the “Blog Blues”?

While putting the finishing touches on my makeup and taking one last look at myself, I decided that today was the day. No matter what, I would write. As soon as that thought entered my head there was a bit of lightheaded, swirling, a bit of clamminess and self-doubt.

That was when I realized that the “Blog Blues” had me down, way down deep and I had to enlist the help of my fellow musical geniuses for some insight.

 I sent a quick text out: “What’s your favorite Blues Song, GO!” Notice, I didn't ask why. I wanted to experience for myself the answers I got back and feel for myself what those songs said to me.

Blues Song-Entry #1

Blind Willie McTell

Statesboro Blues

Wake up momma, you got to turn your lamps down low, Wake up momma, turn your lamps down low, you got no nerve baby to turn Uncle John from your door.  Woke up this morning, I had them Statesboro Blues. Woke up this morning, had them Statesboro Blues. When I looked over in the corner, baby, Even your Grandpa seemed to have them too.

My momma died and left me, my poppa died and left me, I ain’t good looking baby but I’m someone sweet and kind. And I’m going to the country, baby do you wanna go? Your sister Lucille said she wanna go and I sure will take her.

Love that woman, better than any woman I’ve ever seen, I love that woman, better than any woman I’ve ever seen, I treat her like a doggone queen. Wake up momma, you got to turn your lamps down low, Wake up momma, turn your lamps down low, you got no nerve baby to turn Uncle John from your door.” 

At first glance at the lyrics, there was a bit of an eye roll from me and I just thought, what in the world is this even talking about? Then, I took the time to listen to each rendition of the song and found it to be very intriguing. The gist of it to me is that Mama isn’t letting Papa into the house and all the kids and family are now suffering because of it and Papa is threatening that he won’t ask again to come back, basically throwing down a threat.

Statesboro Blues

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

In 2005, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution ranked "Statesboro Blues" number 57 on its list of 100 Songs of the South.

Blues Song-Entry #2

                                                                                               Albert King

Road House Blues

“The moon is risin’, an’ it done got lonesome here. I said, the moon is  risin’, baby, an’ it done got lonesome, here, but baby, I wish you were near.

IF I ever get lucky yeah, an’ win my train fare home, Well, if I ever get lucky buddy, an’ win my train fare home, Oh, the moment that I do, darlin’ You can say your man is comin’ home, yeah.

It’s so hard, trying’ to make it all by yourself, yeah, I say it’s so hard, yeah yea, tryin’ to make it all by yourself, yeah. Oh an’ the woman that you’re really lovin’, she done gone off with someone else, um!

There’s no use ta cryin’, oh, ‘cause your crying’ won’t help you none, woo! Hey, I said it’s no use ta cryin’, buddy, because your cryin’ won’t help you none. You’ll fall in love again an’ she’ll keep you always on the run, yeah.

I say, if I ever get lucky (yeah, that’s my son!) an’ win my train fare home, oooo Lordy, Have you ever felt like that? Oh, if I ever get lucky, buddy yeah, an’ win my train fare home, yeah yeah! Oh, the day that I do, angel. you can bet your life, old Albert is gone, yeah.

Oh wen ya see me comin’, baby yeah, I want ya to raise your window high, woo! Hey, when ya see me comin’ home, babe, I want ya to raise your window high, yeah yeah. But when I turn an’ leave little girl, I want you to hang your head an’ cry, Woo, Lord have mercy! Lord have mercy!

Five Long Years

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Five Long Years is a moderate-tempo song that tells of "the history of the metal worker who, for five years, worked hard in a factory and who gave his check every Friday night to his girlfriend, who nevertheless dumped him"

Blues Song-entry #3

"Texas Flood"

Stevie Ray Vaughan

Well there's floodin' down in Texas
All of the telephone lines are down
Well there's floodin' down in Texas
All of the telephone lines are down
And I've been tryin' to call my baby
Lord and I can't get a single sound

Well dark clouds are rollin' in
Man I'm standin' out in the rain
Well dark clouds are rollin' in
Man I'm standin' out in the rain
Yeah flood water keep a rollin'
Man it's about to drive poor me insane

Well I'm leavin' you baby
Lord and I'm goin' back home to stay
Well I'm leavin' you baby
Lord and I'm goin' back home to stay
Well back home are no floods or tornados
Baby and the sun shines every day

Texas Flood (song)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"Texas Flood" (sometimes called "Stormin' in Texas" or "Flood Down in Texas") is a blues song recorded by Larry Davis in 1958. Original song "Texas Flood" is a slow-song about a flood in Texas. Davis used it as a metaphor for his relationship problems:

I had some other entries: Roadhouse Blues by The Doors being one of them and that was one that I just couldn't touch with my thoughts for various reasons. All these songs had a meaning to me.

If I were to write my “Blog Blues” song, it would be where blogging was playing the role of my love interest. I would have a lot of piano in my blues song. I love the pounding of the keys and that sound moves me.

Here we go:

You let me down, baby,

Your words gave me away.

You let me down, baby,

When the heat came out today.

No matter what you do, baby, I want you back to stay.

You let me down, baby,

You took my fun away.

You let me down, baby,

You took my words away.

No matter what you took baby, I want you back to stay.

You let me down, baby,

You made me feel so whole.

You let me down, baby,

With you I have no soul.

No matter how I feel baby, I want you back to stay.

Others talked about you, baby,

I should have shut them down.

Others talked about you, baby,

I should have shut them down.

Others talked about you, not knowing what they say,

Others talked about you baby,

I should have walked away,

Others talked about you baby and I want you back to stay.

I don’t know if you can hear it. I hear it.

It is my “Blog Blues” melting away.

The beat of the song has shown me the way.

If I can stay strong, baby, you’ll be back always.

              

Retail Therapy?

In my sleepless state, I am reflecting back on my sleep deprived day and while I had fun going to Staples with Jill Cullen, I can't help but get my heart racing to think of the way that I would arrange Staples if I could. So, I will write them a letter.

Dear Staples,

I have an addiction...everything in your store excites me, but nothing excites me more than your back to school sale flier. I go through, drool a little, mark the items that I need/want carefully (mind you, I am not going back to school, I am just in love with fresh ink on clean crisp paper with just the right amount of "other" accessories to get me reorganizing my organizing) drive to the store on my lunch hour, only to get distressed by the following things:

1. It is hard to find anything. Logically, the items in the flier should be located in a central location so that my time can be spent quickly...in and out. While I understand your philosophy on creating an environment of spreading things all around the store so that I get attracted to stuff I don't "need" but have to buy anyway, you have to understand that I am needing to keep my time to my lunch. Quite frankly, if you ever go to the Staples and come out with just what is only on the "list", you have sent your husband or someone else with the list.




2. The help when you need it is limited. Have a few more people on hand or again refer to #1 and just organize your store better. 

3. I had a great experience at the checkout. Jason seemed friendly enough so I decide to take that extra step even after being annoyed about not being able to find anything, to acknowledge that we had a great experience with our check out guy. I ask where the cards are. He isn't sure. I ask what he gets if I send a card in about him (all good of course) and he doesn't seem to sure. I ask if he gets an extra break, an extra pin, a fresh water, determined to find out why it would be worth my while and his to fill it out and he said that he probably would just get a pat on the back. I politely, wanting to save time, suggest that I could just pat him and get it over with. He declined. Awkward moment passed. 
4. It would be really swell if someone would help out to the vehicles when your cart is heaping with purchases. Now, I had my friend, Jill, along and she was more than capable, but when you fill a cart, you might want a little help. Is it just me or do the people that buy the furniture only get the help?
5. And finally, if you are going to put that alluring new product in your flier (like the new colored scotch tape with the clear dispenser in our flier (see picture below-is it not ridiculously cute?!), please, I beg of you, let all of your stores carry it!!! How disappointing to know that the thing that got me through my morning at work (okay, that might be an exaggeration, but work with me) was not available to me at the store. Have you ever needed retail therapy?! Have you ever fell in love with something you must have only to be told it is not available at the store you are standing in? 

I love Staples. 

I want to press the "Easy Button" a bunch when in the store and feel disappointed when I can't. 

Sincerely, 

 

Addicted to cute accessories, paper, pens with a good wide flow, bags, flash drive covers, Martha Stewart accessories, pink 3 hole punches and Owl Notepads, Retail Therapy Seeking Consumer that would rather spend her lunch scanning the pen selection than eating. 

P.S. In skimming the ad for this, I realized I missed a great deal for these speakers. (I don't want to assume that this wasn't just consumer error, but if the flier items were easy to find, I might have come home with these: 

That Little Voice

There is that little voice…it spoke to me this morning, quite early. I am not able to sleep. It’s a common theme, but I don’t quit trying. Bill will make his way to work at anywhere between 4am and 5am Monday through Friday. I will lay awake and watch him go about his business getting ready for work. He gently kisses my forehead and whispers sweet things as he makes his way to work. In those moments when the bed just gets a little bit colder and emptier, I have the tendency to feel a bit sorry for myself. The silence surrounds me and teases me all at the same time. I want to nestle in and drift a bit with the glimmer of sleep tapping at my eyelids.

Today was not the same as every other morning. Today, there was that little voice inside my head that said, “Get up, right now”. It was a distinct moment where I clearly heard it and thought it strange that my “inside voice” was so loud. So, I listened.

I slide out of bed wondering what I would do until the moment the alarm went off. Clearly I couldn’t read a book. That little voice told me to get up. I busied myself with housekeeping items and waited until an appropriate time to shower without feeling guilty about making noise to wake up the kids (who am I kidding…they are teenagers and can sleep through the strongest of storms or at the very least my pleas for them to get up and get ready for school).

I got ready for work. Still ½ hour until the kids got up and I was at a loss. I could do more cleaning, I could fold laundry or I could listen to that little voice…the one that was eerily silent right now.

I decide to take the dog out and let her play in the yard. It is a brisk morning for May. I notice that there must have been a light shower during the overnight and that is when I saw it…the reason why I was meant to listen to that little voice. There it was, a beauty I would have missed-drops of water on the leaves of the plants in my garden. I have taken thousands of pictures of my flowers in bloom-their vivid colors dancing in the breeze. I had never seen the water dance on their leaves like this before and it seemed like almost a dream like state that I am in.

 

This morning, there was no breeze. Only the silence of the well balanced water droplets poised on the leaves and the flowers glistening and beckoning to me.

I rush inside to get the camera. I didn’t want to miss a moment. Pause here…I have owned this camera for years, don’t know where the owner’s manual is, and have yet to master the settings and really don’t know if the batteries are even charged! Panic ensues. Quickly, I realize that the worry was unfounded. The batteries were fine and I was rushing back out the door.

I start playing with the settings and the lights and the flowers and the leaves and in this little window that I am gazing through, I am unsure of if I am actually capturing what my eye was seeing. I am excited and nervous and snap some pictures and rush in to the house to hook up to my computer.

By this time, my kids are up and bustling to get ready and they have no idea that I am inwardly doing mental cartwheels. They have no idea that that little voice in my head is getting louder…willing the computer to turn on faster and the pictures to load quicker.

Favorite of all the shots-notice the drop on almost the very top left tip of the leaf where the drop looks like it is in the process of evaporating...so exciting. 

Suddenly-there they are-certainly not award winning, but to me they are everything! The way the light is bouncing off the water droplets makes me feel such a thrill. The way the flowers hold on to the droplets with the purple shining through…glistening. I am thrilled beyond words.

I silently thank that little voice in my head. I will listen to it more often. Clearly, in those moments when I am feeling groggy and unfocused, I need to take a moment to listen. I might hear that little voice direct me where I am meant to be. 

Driving out of my Heart

The other day, I was a passenger in a car and I spotted my son driving in his car about a half a block ahead of us. I had a very emotional reaction. I was immediately taken back to when I was holding him in my arms and whispering, “I love you,” to him for the first time. Why the reaction?

When Dylan first went to do his school for driving, I recall feeling like I had to pinch myself. Was this for real? Where did my little boy go? I hoped that Dylan took on driving better than he took on riding a bike. A look into my back seat confirmed what I already knew-there were no more car seats, no more kid’s fingerprints on the windows, no cheerios and fruit snacks strewn across the floor and the seats. Now, my vehicle was a bare canvas. My heart ached.

Dylan got his license and has taken much pride in the car that his Dad passed down to him. He keeps it clean, doesn’t like to have any junk in it and is very careful about where he parks it so as not to get it dinged.

All of a sudden it seemed, it was BJ’s turn to go to school to get his license. I remember thinking, “Could this be possible?” Where did the time go? He passed his exam with flying colors and was handed the keys to his car.

  

I have felt over the past few years that my car called, “Life” has been speeding by at an out-of-control pace and I would like to slow it down. I want to seatbelt my kids in so that they stay near me. I want to check all my blind spots so I don’t miss telling them and teaching them all about life and what they can expect. I want them to arrive at wherever they are meant to be in life, safely and well equipped to handle anything the map of life gives them. I think about the lessons I have taught them about being cautious and yet I still want them to look out the windows and enjoy the ride.

I understand why my heart ached so much when I saw the familiar blue car ahead of us. I was no longer driving. I was no longer in control of how my kids get anywhere and it is a scary thought for me and yet one that fills me with pride. When the feelings rush over me about them driving right out of my heart I need to remember, I have handed them some amazing keys and I have to trust that they will proceed with caution, but know when to enjoy the ride. 

Passion for Pinterest

What is it about Pinterest that has me addicted? I can’t stop thinking about it. 

Quotes

Fashion

Polyvore

Photography

Laughs

Dreams

If someone would have told me that I would be head over heels about “liking” something and “repining” it even 3 months ago, I would have called you crazy. In fact, when I first discovered this, I was so confused…why the pins? Why the fascination?

This afternoon, when I found myself trying to fit in about 15 minutes of “pinning time” on my lunch, it hit me. This has become my escape from reality: A safe place for me to go that I can feel free to dream with no confines of a budget or anyone saying no, or even questioning why?  This is mine. All mine.

I don’t find myself commenting on anyone else’s pins too much. I have discovered that I feel it is too personal to comment on someone else’s dreams. It’s not for me to say what brings that feeling of escape for someone else or what colors will move them or how they grow their gardens.

I used to feel that I had to explain this to people and today, I decided that I don’t want to explain it, I want to experience it and it is my time, one pin at a time. 

She is Loved

Time with my daughter, Lauren is precious. She will roll her 14 year old eyes when she reads this and insist that I am being “weird”. I don’t care about the eye roll. It is guaranteed to happen and I would worry if it did not. 

This weekend, we are at Trivia Weekend in Stevens Point-kind of a big deal if you are into that sort of that thing and Lauren came along armed with her swimsuit for hot tub time, several changes of outfits, her blanket, her IPAD, her homework and all of her hair and makeup products.

Right before we were supposed to hit the road, Lauren seemed to hear for the first time, that we were staying in Stevens Point until Sunday. Clearly she wasn’t happy. She claims to have not heard me state this fact earlier and I know that I have, but choose not to argue about it. It is wise to pick my battles. I mentally note that it would have been an even bigger bag of outfits had she known about the extra day. I quietly listened to her sigh and grown about being away for so long. Secretly, I was happy because that means that I have a whole weekend with my daughter.

There are a lot of people that come up to Joe and Lisa’s for trivia. I don’t know most of them, but I know her. I know that she will sit next to me with her cute outfit on and her perfectly brushed hair and smelling like a flower and she will be the one that I enjoy the most. I watch her play with her IPAD. I watch her take pictures. I watch her do homework and I am proud. She is sitting next to me and I can study her-the way she holds her pencil, so different then the way that I hold my own. I watch her take pride in writing her notes for her homework. I know that I was the same. I know that I too loved the way, when I was doing homework, how the pencil felt brushing across the fresh clean paper. I too loved how pretty the words were on my paper with the special loops and circles and care that only a 14 year old can give to homework.

I watch Lauren carefully. I know that I won’t get any of this time back. I want to wrap it all up in a carefully wrapped gift and set it under a Christmas tree that I keep out all year long and when I am feeling sad, or overwhelmed, I can open one of the little packages up and know that it will bring me an immediate smile. She does that, without knowing the power of her words, her smile, her giggle, her words and all I know is that I want her to only be surrounded with people who will protect and cherish all those things about her. I know this isn’t possible, but as a mother, I can’t help but pray that this is truly what happens.

There are people that fill this house this weekend that won’t know that she loves to dance and she is fantastic at it. How one moves their body like that I will never understand and it is effortless. These strangers (friends for the weekend) won’t know about how she likes to write, that she likes to organize, that she loves to surround herself with pretty things but still loves getting down right dirty. They won’t know that she loves to take care of people, especially me. She gives from the very depths of her heart, without being told to. She is love.

I know that she would rather be with her friends. I know that she would rather not be driving two hours to hang out with strangers, searching the internet for random stuff that matters to know one but everyone playing trivia this weekend. I am so happy that she is here. She is loved. 

$4.98 Grilled Cheese

Everyone has that diner/restaurant in their hometown-you know the one-the one where they are still wearing the uniforms you remember them wearing when you were a kid. I am not talking the same exact ones, but a diner that prefers to go to the stand by uniform that has worked for years.

Everyone has that diner/restaurant where you gather and the coffee still costs a few coins that you leave on the table. The waitresses have been there since the beginning and won’t quit there until they are no longer with us on this earth.

Everyone has that diner/restaurant where you feel warm inside when you walk in the door and you know you will be greeted with a smile-always.

I hadn’t visited our local diner/restaurant in quite some time. Lunch choices led me to pick the restaurant with a smile, thinking about the warmth and the comfort that would surround me when I stepped in.

I met my friend at the restaurant and was immediately taken back to a different time/place. The glitter purple eye shadow on the greeter with the 80’s hair, the fresh baked goodies in the display and the Halloween decorations where ever the eye could see. I was home.

The chatter between the two best kind of girl friends erupted and the menus lay unopened on the table. Several visits from the waitress encouraged us to make a decision. I knew what I wanted. A grilled cheese sandwich-one that only could bring more comfort and warmth to me and make the lunch even more special…no fries… just the sandwich.

The laughter and banter continued. The sandwich came with two hamburger pickle slices-a simple sandwich.

Suddenly lunch was over. It always happens that way. Time runs away and gives no warning. That is when the bill came. Not a cross thought came to mind as I picked up the bill. Never once did I think I was about to be robbed. My heart stopped. $4.98 for a plain grilled cheese sandwich?! No fancy bread. No fancy cheese. No extra toppings. Nothing but a stinking grilled cheese sandwich. Do I share with my friend my disgust?! My family diner/restaurant had basically just kicked me in the stomach.

I do the lean in and let my friend know that I had been robbed. The stunned look on her face confirmed that I had, indeed been robbed. I began to look around at the old booths, the old tables and chairs, the originals by the looks of it, the cheesy Halloween decorations taunting me. What just happened? When did the diner become so dismal and overpriced?!

I went to the check out with a heavy heart. No dessert for me. No treats to bring home to my family. My grilled cheese sandwich gave me a heavy heart. Times are changing and I realized that someday, I will tell my grandchildren that a grilled cheese used to cost $4.98 and it will seem like  a deal.