Music makes the journey tolerable and keeps the meltdown at bay
I've been looking up music today. I'm tired of the music on my iPod. I found this little gem called Laura Marling. Look her up. She's amazing. Well, if you like acoustic girls, which is what I'm finding is my cup o' tea.
I've had an interesting last couple of weeks. Matt is sick. He's okay, but still sick. He went to the hospital last week and what seemed like a joke, from the silly abdominal pain and bloating to the subsequent hilarious morphine drip...turned into something more serious that turned into a sobering three-night hospital stay, IV drip and the imminent "s-word" -- surgery. I stayed with him two nights in the hospital -- a first for me --, until a crick in my neck from the luxurious fold out couch prevented me from staying the last night. I frankly couldn't take the severity of it all. Toward the end there, I needed my time alone. And my bed. He came home on a Friday, with new instructions on what to feed him and prescriptions for antibiotics, and I've been a slave to this thing called "diverticulitis" ever since.
Tomorrow is the appointment with the surgeon. He will surely say the s-word and that it will happen soon, thwarting my Thanksgiving plans, but hey, maybe this will give new meaning to the holiday we all call "Thanksgiving." Plus, I'm glad that we'll have face-time with a professional who will be available to answer our every question: "why can't he pass gas? Why the bloating? How much will this cost? Why is he sleeping all the time? (Gulp) Recovery time?"
Tomorrow is also our nine-year anniversary. Good timing, eh? He asked me what I wanted, and while I really wanted to say, "Your health," I realized it was so very cliché and dramatic, so I simply said, "Nothing, just take me out." I just want to have a nice dinner with my one and only. I'll toast to his health privately.
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I said it was an interesting week. I take that back -- it's been an interesting month. My brother, the guitarist, has proposed that we start a band of our own. Well, no -- he said he was starting his own band, to which I responded, "Can I be in it?" "Yeah, sure, you can play keyboards," he said.
Keyboards have turned into guitar, as the original bassist has been flaky as of late. I don't know bass, so Eddie is taking on that role, which scares me to death, because although I know my chords, I am not the guitarist he is, and I know I'll just feel foolish on stage holding a guitar next to him. It's all in my head, really. But seriously. I want to be the best band ever, and brother-man's telling me he's "always wanted to play bass in his own band, anyway." Heh?
I'm frustrated. By life in general, although I'm trying to keep a positive outlook here. But my band has been "formed" for about a month now and setting a time to practice is beyond difficult. Our schedules keep conflicting, something keeps coming up, the Cowboys game is on, etc. Excuses, excuses, excuses. We've even auditioned a drummer...
I have a right mind to do my own thing. Sod this fake band, and do my own thing. Work on my repretoire, and just go out there and do it. Do. It.
I don't need anybody to hold my hand. I'm a grown-ass woman, capable of doing my own thing whenever and however I damn well please. I'm going to do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.
I'm very sad about these current times. Let me explain.
The best situation for me right now to create music is to have a shitload of free time, go back to school to make the time worthwhile somehow, and work a part-time job. At this time I feel tied to my job -- a feeling I've never had before! No matter how much I hate it, hate my co-workers, hate my boss, I have this sinking feeling that I NEED my job, that I should be aware of how many people out there are SO LUCKY to have jobs, etc. School is apparently more expensive than ever right now, and even if I did decide to go back for a second bachelor's or master's, it would only be for the wrong reasons anyway. Just to buy time to write an album or [vomit] to find myself late-bloomer-style. Because I didn't really find anything the first time around.
Here's to the journey...
I've had an interesting last couple of weeks. Matt is sick. He's okay, but still sick. He went to the hospital last week and what seemed like a joke, from the silly abdominal pain and bloating to the subsequent hilarious morphine drip...turned into something more serious that turned into a sobering three-night hospital stay, IV drip and the imminent "s-word" -- surgery. I stayed with him two nights in the hospital -- a first for me --, until a crick in my neck from the luxurious fold out couch prevented me from staying the last night. I frankly couldn't take the severity of it all. Toward the end there, I needed my time alone. And my bed. He came home on a Friday, with new instructions on what to feed him and prescriptions for antibiotics, and I've been a slave to this thing called "diverticulitis" ever since.
Tomorrow is the appointment with the surgeon. He will surely say the s-word and that it will happen soon, thwarting my Thanksgiving plans, but hey, maybe this will give new meaning to the holiday we all call "Thanksgiving." Plus, I'm glad that we'll have face-time with a professional who will be available to answer our every question: "why can't he pass gas? Why the bloating? How much will this cost? Why is he sleeping all the time? (Gulp) Recovery time?"
Tomorrow is also our nine-year anniversary. Good timing, eh? He asked me what I wanted, and while I really wanted to say, "Your health," I realized it was so very cliché and dramatic, so I simply said, "Nothing, just take me out." I just want to have a nice dinner with my one and only. I'll toast to his health privately.
----------------------
I said it was an interesting week. I take that back -- it's been an interesting month. My brother, the guitarist, has proposed that we start a band of our own. Well, no -- he said he was starting his own band, to which I responded, "Can I be in it?" "Yeah, sure, you can play keyboards," he said.
Keyboards have turned into guitar, as the original bassist has been flaky as of late. I don't know bass, so Eddie is taking on that role, which scares me to death, because although I know my chords, I am not the guitarist he is, and I know I'll just feel foolish on stage holding a guitar next to him. It's all in my head, really. But seriously. I want to be the best band ever, and brother-man's telling me he's "always wanted to play bass in his own band, anyway." Heh?
I'm frustrated. By life in general, although I'm trying to keep a positive outlook here. But my band has been "formed" for about a month now and setting a time to practice is beyond difficult. Our schedules keep conflicting, something keeps coming up, the Cowboys game is on, etc. Excuses, excuses, excuses. We've even auditioned a drummer...
I have a right mind to do my own thing. Sod this fake band, and do my own thing. Work on my repretoire, and just go out there and do it. Do. It.
I don't need anybody to hold my hand. I'm a grown-ass woman, capable of doing my own thing whenever and however I damn well please. I'm going to do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.
I'm very sad about these current times. Let me explain.
The best situation for me right now to create music is to have a shitload of free time, go back to school to make the time worthwhile somehow, and work a part-time job. At this time I feel tied to my job -- a feeling I've never had before! No matter how much I hate it, hate my co-workers, hate my boss, I have this sinking feeling that I NEED my job, that I should be aware of how many people out there are SO LUCKY to have jobs, etc. School is apparently more expensive than ever right now, and even if I did decide to go back for a second bachelor's or master's, it would only be for the wrong reasons anyway. Just to buy time to write an album or [vomit] to find myself late-bloomer-style. Because I didn't really find anything the first time around.
Here's to the journey...
posted by deconstructionist at 6:21 PM
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