Music Saves, like Jesus Saves*, Like Lip Balm Hydrates Lips, Like Quiet Reflection Recharges the Soul

Some traits are just chalked up to genetics. I look like my Mom, I have scanty eyebrows like my Dad, I don’t believe in buying children designer jeans like my Mom, and I am obsessed with music like my Dad. A friend recently asked me if I had any tunes to recommend, which I am always delighted to provide. Most of the time my friends appreciate suggestions because they either don’t have time to troll for new music, or have things like jobs and families and relationships that take up the time I usurp for researching new and old music alike.

So my music-seeking friend, referred to as “Bedazzle” from hereon out (in retaliation for his denigrating treatment of my French recommendations), didn’t simply accept my list blindly and move on with his day. He was already familiar with some of my recommendations and felt inclined to comment on them. And even if he wasn’t, he commented anyway. It felt a bit like handing a little kid a piece of chocolate cake and being told: “But did you not get this cake at La Patisserie? No? I’ll try it but I don’t have to like it.” Bedazzle knows I say this all in love of course.

I had been meaning to post some of the tuneage that has provided the soundtrack to my recent spate of unemployment (otherwise known as the latter half of 2008, or the equivalent of two fiscal quarters) for friends interested in some (new to them) tracks. These are just a fraction of the tunes that have inspired, cheered, and successfully flipped the mood switch during those inevitable phases of gloom a job search engenders (kind of like forced bloodletting). Bedazzle has kindly allowed me to include some of his comments below (in blue), for those who are inclined to seek both sides of the story.

1. Imogen Heap - Goodnight and Go/Speeding Cars/Hide & Seek.
The ethereal music doesn't really resonate with me. I'll make exceptions for Portishead and Ryskopp, but not much else.

2. Donovan - Get Thy Bearings.
Wow. Just wow. I felt like such an old man when I bought Hurdy Gurdy Man. Get Thy Bearings is clearly the best song on the album. Great minds.

3. Muse – Starlight.
Catchy tune, but it always had a hint of Tears for Fears mixed with a touch of The Killers.

4. New Order – Ceremony.
Radiohead covers this song. You should really get into Joy Division. The one drawback is it is hard to find good re-mastered Joy Division music so it always sounds 'tin-y'.

5. Band of Horses - The Funeral.
Spectacular band, great song, see them live if you can. They were based in Seattle, toured a lot in SF, then moved to South Carolina and don't come as much. Get both their albums if you haven't already.

6. Feist - Feel it All.
Don't know much about her besides the iPod commercial. She did a great set on Letterman, you can find it on YouTube, with Grizzly Bear, the lead singer form The National, and a bunch of other great performers. Look it up.

7. Brandi Carlile - The Story
Pass.

8. CSS - Music is my Hot Hot Sex.
Great title. Great song. Little known alternative title: Music for Eunuchs.

9. Greg Laswell - Sing, Theresa Says.
I'll be Switzerland on him. I like Sing, Theresa Says.

10. The National - Mistaken for Strangers.
Have all their albums. They have some amazingly textured and layered music. Saw them live and they were great. One guy played a violin.

11. The Notorious B.I.G. – Juicy.
RAP ATTACK! Do you realize I actually wore a red and black lumberjack in Alaska? Not ironically either.

12. Angels & Airwaves – Sirens.
Uh-oh. I've always felt they are the EMO version of Blink-182. I'm not sure if it is worse for you that I've compared them to Blink-182 or worse for me that I have a Blink-182 point of reference.

13. Carla Bruni - Quelqu'un M'a Dit.
Title seems French. And these colors don't run. FREEDOM FRIES OR DEATH!

14. Tinariwen - Matadjem Yinmixan.
I think your fingers were over one set of keys when you typed this. Did you mean Justin Timberlake - Sexy Back?

15. Magic System - 1er gaou.
I do like magic. But ultimately it is a Dark Science. And I'm not sure if '1' is an appropriate start to a word. Maybe a little hangover from the prior artist.

16. Easy All Stars & Citizen Cope - Karma Police.
I detest reggae. And I think Radiohead is the most important band to release music in the last 20 years. You can see where this is going.

17. The Toadies – Tyler.
Don't know them and I'm still a little steamed about that last entry.

18: Frou Frou - Only Got One.
See Imogen Heap.

19. Passion Pit – Sleepyhead.
Wasn't the Passion Pit the diner on Beverly Hills 90210?

20. Mark Farina & Sean Hayes - Dream Machine, my current favorite song. Love.
High praise. I'll give it a listen.

21. Modest Mouse - Truckers Atlas.
Lonesome Crowded West should be mandatory listening for every 13 year old child in America. Between this and Donovan, I'm convinced we share a soul. The James Brown kind of soul. Not the kind associated with St. Paul, or Peter, or whomever is at the Pearly Gates.

22. Yelle - Je Veux Te Voir/Tristesse Joie.
Sounds French...

*This is catholic blog with a lower case “C”, as in topics explored herein are liberal, broad-minded, wide-ranging, and universal in nature, if you please. Feel free to believe that JC (as in Jesus Christ, not Julia Collins the other author of this blog, although the latter is pretty freaking awesome in my opinion, much like Christians in general view the original JC – and I’m not trying to be flip here) saves, or doesn’t. It’s totally up to you. I’m just trying to make a point here by drawing upon my Catholic upbringing -- in a humorously irreverent way without being excommunicated, although since I don’t go to church anymore I probably already have been and just threw the notice away thinking it was junk mail. I am so not showing this post to my Mom.

Did you catch that?

Shhhh! Listen, in the silence, did you hear that? Never mind. It is too loud in here. Wait, there it is again. Did you hear it? I hear a voice. I hear the voice. Everywhere. In May, the voice was the humming below the din of the noisy restaurant. In July, the voice was behind the laughter of kids jumping in the pool. In September, the voice was between the mutterings of the sputter of the motor. In October, the voice was among the wind as it rustled the leaves and trees. I hear the voice everywhere. There it is again. Did you catch it?

At first, I cannot make out what the voice is saying. That is not really true; at first I am ignoring the voice. And then I am fixated on it. I am trying to understand what the voice is saying. I wish silently that I could ignore it. I cannot figure out to whom the voice belongs, nor from where the voice is coming.

The voice just is.

And then I catch it. The voice is not slower, or louder, or more obvious. Nonetheless instant clarity, I understand completely. Could I not understand the voice because of my own internal thoughts? Were they arguing with the voice so loudly and for so long in hopes to distract me from the central message? Yet, once I hear the truth, I can no longer pretend. I catch it. I get it.

“You do not belong here!” And then again, “You do not belong here!”

But the voice is hospitable and says at the time, “relax, have fun, enjoy the day! Here is a great meal and a fine wine. But, remember your journey has not reached its conclusion. Of course if you are tired, you may stop for awhile and rest but don't get comfortable, you cannot stay.” Of course the voice can also be a cheerleader and says, “Keep going. You can do it and there is only one solution. You can do it!” But, the point is always the same.

“You do not belong here!”

And so, I keep searching. Repack the suitcase, reload the car, and start again. Not defeated, but relieved. I don't know if I would like to stay. I could make this version of a life work, but I am gleeful that it is unnecessary. And I gratefully continue the search.

Yet, I continue to listen. I agree, I do not belong here but I do not want to miss the change. I do not want to miss the moment when the voice’s message changes to the new message. When the voice says, “Welcome! This is where you belong. You are welcome to stay, as long as you need. This is where you need to be.” I will be listening. I will catch it, the first time. Shhhh.

~Julia

Reconciling The Urge To Nest With The Desire To Be A Kick-Ass Professional

The urge to nest is a common compulsion, especially if you are a human of the female persuasion -- and pregnant. But the overwhelming urge to clean, organize, and decorate is not limited to pregnant women alone. I should know. I’ve felt it, and continue to feel it a couple times a year, despite never having been in a family way. And I rarely ever admit it. Many of my single and female friends, who themselves have never been expectant mothers, are overtaken by the nesting instinct in a powerful way, and more than just a mere week or two out of the year. Many of these women have jobs/careers, and possess strong desires for professional success. So how does one harmonize the desire for career advancement and the hankering for a cozy place to nurture, if not a child, one’s own dreams and goals?

Metaphor time. Have you ever walked by a Kentucky Fried Chicken on an empty stomach? (or a pizza place, or a Chinese restaurant, or a hot dog stand) and suddenly imagined holding a bucket of golden deliciousness with a side of mashed potatoes + gravy, and a few biscuits, and satiating yourself silly in solitude so that no one can hear the animal-like scarfing, or witness the smears of grease and loss of pride? And then being called back to reality upon hearing your stomach growl, so that you run home to make yourself dinner because a KFC meal does not align with your objective to fit into that dress you plan to wear for that New Year’s Eve occasion you don’t have scheduled yet, but you know you will? Imagine that once you’re home you find the fridge empty and the cupboards bare. So you settle for some leftover Halloween candy at the bottom of your bag and a stale bag of Sun chips -- for dinner. Unsatisfying. So what happens when nestiness sets in and you suddenly start thinking of painting borders in your bedroom, or get teary over the itty-bitty cuteness of the holiday toddler outfits at Target, and you don't do anything about it? This is why women go on chocolate binges and buy expensive handbags, purchase animal-shaped cookie cutters, engage in RomCom* marathons, go crazy buying up succulents in plant stores, and make ambitious proclamations about making homemade gnocchi.** They are trying to fill that empty nesting hole with either some form of domesticity or mask it with new slouch boots and a faux reptile clutch.

Fighting hormones is like fighting the Taliban in the peaks and crevices of Tora Bora: difficult. A friend of mine recently brought up that she is feeling nesty. She dismissed it with a figurative wave, and labeled the phase “stupid”. I can understand the instinct to apologize. Nesting instincts aren’t exactly encouraged in single women lest they be branded clean freaks for washing walls or just plain freaks for buying label makers. But, I say to women everywhere: give yourselves permission to feel your nesting instinct to the maximum! Explore the heart of it -- all the way to the outer reaches, without shame, without apology, and with the pride that your body can produce such a beautiful urge to build, protect, and nurture.

What follows is a bit of a stretch, but…

At the core of South African culture is the concept of Ubuntu. It's a bit tricky to explain, but the fundamental idea is that "I am because you are." In other words, I am OK if you are OK. If you don't have your good, I will provide. And, if I don't have enough, you will help me, because in doing so we help each other and our community...and by helping each other, by nurturing our communities, we make a better world. I think at the nucleus of the nesting instinct are some of the basic tenets of Umbutu – to nurture, to provide, to comfort, and to create a safe place. What if we all took spoonfuls of Ubuntu on a daily basis? If we subscribe to the idea that we hold in ourselves a microcosm that reflects the macrocosm, what a beautiful move it would be for us as women to lay out our nesting instincts proudly like a string of sacred blankets and offer up their warmth and comfort to the world.

*Romantic Comedies

**Don’t do it. What a m+&^%$f@@@ing nightmare.

Silver Linings, Or Why At Times I Think This Job Search Maybe Isn't So Bad & I Lose The Feeling of Overwhelming Impotence

• My aversion to cover letters is gone. The aversion started as a thorny little seedling. But as my job search progressed it grew and started to loom over me, a large, dark gray specter with a scaly coat of violet-y iridescence. As I gained the confidence to meet its direct gaze I dropped my intention to battle it, and then to negotiate with it, and I saw that it began to shrink, and shrink, until it was small enough to put it my back pocket until I could dispose of it in the nearest black hole. Actually, that's not true. I probably won't be able to cease cover letter writing for an estimated 15 to 20 years. So, until then I've accepted the aversion into my life. I've allowed it to sit right beside me in harmonious diplomacy. Now, we be tight.

• I am very well rested these days.
  

• I finally enjoy preparing a meal: breakfast. The days of quickly slamming a Slim-Fast and mainlining coffee are over. For now. It is with anticipation that I throw off the covers in the morning and throw on workout clothes to greet a brand new day in the kitchen. I almost sound like a converted morning person. Ha ha. All I need to consult is the whim of my mood. Shall it be a spinach omelette today? A mushroom frittata? Chilaquiles? Potatoes, or toast, or get all crazy with the Cheese Whiz* and prepare both? Green peppers? Red? Oh glorious breakfast! How I look forward to greeting you in the morning!

• Sanity walks** at any hour of the day.

• A thriving, intimate, and satisfying relationship with Facebook.

• Have you ever learned how to speed read? To latch onto key words to catch the gist of the text? I can do that now with job descriptions. And I've gotten so good that I actually get a little rumble in my gut if it's an appropriate job to apply to. I've unwittingly downloaded job speak lingo onto my mental hard drive, which has allowed me to compose cover letters that read like nothing I would have ever written just five months ago. Got any cover letters for me to write? $10 a pop.

• Unfettered reading. This has led to a quiet obsession with Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a headlong immersion into all matters foreign-affairs related, additions to my own personal self-help library, and warmly embraced detective thrillers about killers and sadists...which...lead me back to the self-help library.
  

• The ability to sip a mocha at a local cafe, at any hour of the day, stationed if possible in a sun spot like a cat, pondering the inane and the not so inane, and allowing myself to be open to tiny epiphanic moments about the past, present, and future.

• A stark understanding that the underpinning of true independence, and the contentedness that it brings, is financial security. But really, truly, absorbing this epiphanic thought and allowing it to make it's way from my frontal lobe so that it seeps into my DNA for some re-wiring. As the famous poet Carl Sandburg once said:

  "Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings."

*From the Urban Dictionary: "a phrase that describes the extremely crazy or eager antics of a person. Or how into the topic or action a person is."

**Sanity walks: walks taken to deliberately remove excess stress and tension from one's person, and stimulate breathing so as to flow much-needed oxygen to the brain (resulting at times in zen-like reveries) and reverting said person to a state of mental stability.

Gabi

The Chain of a Dark Thought Process in a Born Optimist

Fact: I am unemployed.

Feeling: As though I were enmeshed in a small, tightly-woven, intractable net of stasis.

Fact: Definition of stasis - state of inactivity; stagnation.

Feeling: Fog of darkness settles in the frontal lobe, resulting in the deliberate act of spooning several heaps of ice cream into a large bowl, topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream, several liquid lines of chocolate syrup, and 1/4 cup of finely chopped walnuts.

Fact: Walnuts are a great source of Omega-3 fatty acids. They also contain manganese, copper, and tryptophan.

Feeling: Blissful satiation followed by bloated fullness followed by drowsy introspection.

Fact: Rumination over the word stagnation. Rumination over stagnation's antonyms, such as development, advancement, and progress.

Feeling: Approaching alertness.

Fact: Generally, as the digestion process winds down, blood flow to the brain improves and restores mental agility.

Moment of A-ha! Illumination: Considering Newton's laws of physics, and specifically the third law (for every action there is a reaction), it follows that it would be scientifically impossible for me to remain in my state of stasis forever, i.e., unemployment. Thus, following the logic of the third law, and given my heavy investment in writing cover letters, scouring job boards, and networking with everyone around me including the elderly lady walking her dog along the trail by the creek near my house, at a yet to be determined moment in time I will receive the Holy Grail of job seekers everywhere: a job offer.

Post moment of A-Ha! Illumination feeling: Hope springs eternal in the cockles of my heart! And suddenly the feeling of wanting to run over pedestrians, pre-ice cream binge, is gone.

Gabi

How My Life Could be Worse, Part II

• Let me start with the obvious: McCain/Palin could have been elected.

• I could be responsible for conducting the audit on Sara Palin's estimated $150K+ high-end wardrobe (more than Joe the Plumber's house, by the way), and then coordinating the subsequent "auction" to recoup a sliver of the costs. This would require me to go to Alaska. Ew.

• I could be dealing with a potentially infected gallbladder, threatening to burst, right by my liver, poisoning my bloodstream and causing my death within minutes. Dear Tim, I hope the gallbladder issue clears up for you, and thanks for some perspective. In the meantime, just say no to fried food until you're able to see the GI specialist next month. Hugs!

• I could be a Congolese from Kiwanga, fleeing my village because rebel forces have ignored the fragile cease-fire and have wrestled control from the pro-government militia, murdering all suspected government sympathizers. I could be running, running, with nothing but the clothes on my back to seek safety and shelter in an overcrowded, squalid, understaffed Kibati refugee camp, encaged with fellow compatriots, malnourished, terrified, and lost to family and friends.

• I could be Dmitry Medvedev. Let's face it: he's methodically clearing the way for Putin to run again as president. How good do you think it makes Medvedev feel to hold a job that on paper seems an impressive feat: President of Russia (never holding an elected office until this year)...but in reality is Putin's Puppet du Jour. How much do you think Medvedev has benefitted financially from this quaint little arrangement? What kinds of perks are involved? Swiss bank account? Super models? Tricked out luxury vehicles? A yacht with gold-plated everything? All to be a megalomaniac's stooge on a string? Medvedev, do you have a conscience?

• I could be a past my bloom Playboy Bunny, with starting to sag breasts, and crows feet beginning to striate the outer corners of my eyes, although still maintaining my size 2 figure, because after 20 years of denying myself needless and necessary carbohydtrates, I am used to and comforted by a feeling of starvation. I could be clinically depressed by my utter loss at how to make a living, barely a high school graduate, and never a college graduate, skilled only at posing for girly mags, opening bottles of champagne, and finally working as a trade show model at auto shows along the rust belt. Hooters would be such a cliché.

Gabi