Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: Musings (Page 6 of 6)

Music of our Lives

We’re putting together a mix CD at work, and every employee needed to submit three songs for consideration; it’s something we’ll play during an upcoming event.

Three songs. It’s a lot of pressure. Kind of like those mythical genie wishes – you sure as shit don’t want to waste one, even though Justin Timberlake is kinda cute and he makes all those catchy tunes with Timbaland, because the next thing you know, your street cred is in the sewers.

Here are the three I picked:

Weezer – “Heart Songs”. What makes this one FABulous is that it references a jillion other songs IN it.

Cake – “No Phone”. One of my oldies-but-goodies, was my ring tone for a long time. I hate the phone. I love Cake.

Snow Patrol – “Set Fire to the Third Bar”. I am 99% positive this won’t make it onto the compilation. It was a tough decision, this #3, because I really, really, really wanted to use a Pete Yorn song, except all my favorites sort of convey the notion I’m going to put a plastic bag over my head & take a bath. Doesn’t really say “Party”. Unless you’re Jerzy Kosinski, of course.

Anyway. All this reminded me I hadn’t finished my playlist, over on -wait for it- playlist.com. You can make a 100-song playlist, using social networking. God I love the internets. Unfortunately, some of my songs aren’t the actual songs they purport to be, so I paste this player in here with a cautionary warning – some of the quality levels suck, and I need to wade back through it all and scrub it and buff it and maybe change the order a little bit. But I did, way-back-when, also start writing WHY I chose each song – I moved through my memories and what songs really resonated for different times in my life, and so, even if the tunes don’t naturally flow from one to the next, they all carry a thread for me. I’ll start sharing those descriptions below, to be continued….


* Hey Nineteen — Steely Dan – first song I ever heard on pop radio. I wasn’t supposed to listen to THOSE stations. I snuck into my parents’ bedroom and knelt by my dad’s clock radio, carefully noting the NPR station’s dial position so I could return it. I soaked up all the words and sounds, and then, out of fear, re-set the radio and crept back to my room. My rebellious years of subterfuge and disobedience had begun.

* The Pretender — Jackson Browne – I remember my father bringing home “Running on Empty”, on vinyl, after a trip to Madison, WI. He bought every album Jackson Browne made, and we memorized the lyrics. This was one of the songs that blew my dad away, and I remember his face, listening to it.
* You Can’t Always Get What You Want — The Rolling Stones – I also grew up with the Stones, and pored over their album covers, because they were so cool. My father also reminded me of the message in this song repeatedly, something I can’t claim to have fully accepted yet in life.
* Love Is Alright Tonight — Rick Springfield – What can I say? My first heartthrob. Once I was finally allowed to listen to Devil Radio (not out of any religious concerns, Dad just found most pop music to be “junk”), I became enamored with Rick Springfield. Loved the movie “Hard to Hold.” That soundtrack was one of the first cassette tapes I bought.
* Romeo And Juliet — Dire Straits — Another staple in our household, Dad loved Dire Straits, and I loved the lyrics to their songs. I thought this was such a romantic song when I was a tween.
* Little Red Corvette — Prince — First time I heard this, I remember being in my room, alone, waiting for my parents to come home from a wine tasting. As I listened to the words, I realized, “This is DIRTY!” and I loved it.
* Caught Up In You — .38 Special — Reminds me of High School. At the advent of music videos, we made our own to this song. I still remember my outfit for the video.
* Photograph — Def Leppard — High School again. We did a lip-sync performance to “Pyromania” and I went nuts on my wooden painted guitar. I still remember the shock on the teacher judges’ faces.
* Idiot Wind — Bob Dylan — Probably one of my father’s favorite artists, and a large chunk of mental real estate in my brain is devoted to Dylan.
* China Girl — David Bowie — I didn’t even know what David Bowie looked like or who he was, but I loved this song.
* WANNA GO BACK — Eddie Money — Another HS crush.
* Turn Me Loose — Loverboy — Oh god, pass the red leather pants. And keep on workin’ for the weekend.
* Billie Jean — Michael Jackson — Back when Michael was himself, utterly fascinating, talented and the biggest thing to hit the universe.
* True Colors — Cyndi Lauper — This song would one day define how I would feel about my husband, and she would be one of the best concerts I’d ever see. At the time, I loved the ballad and all of her fun music.
* Private Eyes — Hall & Oates – Which one from this duo could you spend the rest of your life with? I loved them both, with a slight edge to Oates. Must’ve been the clapping.
* The Reflex — Duran Duran – Which one WASN’T I going to marry? I don’t think I had a lot of discernment at this point in my life. While Simon was the obvious choice, there was nothing wrong with swapping eyeliner pencils with Nick, either.
* The Glamorous Life — Sheila E — My theme song for graduation. I so wanted out, out, out. And to live…the glamorous life.

Musing…

…I really hope I don’t end up following a vehicle today that’s hauling an enormous round bale of hay. Because in my dreams last night, I came up over a hill, and there was the hay bale, and the driver was going 25 mph. I was not. I did everything in my power, but I still ended up hitting her trailer corner (the bar holding up the brake light) and the woman driving the truck turned out to be this beatific, sweet 60-year old lady – who morphed into a gigantic bitch in front of my eyes. And she tried to come back and tell me it was $6,000 worth of damage. For a scratch on a post.

I threatened to set her hay bale on fire. James was horrified through ALL of this, as he would be if it happened in real life.

Good to know I don’t lie down and take it, though – even when I’m lying down.

The Concept of Loyalty

As a marketer, I’m fascinated by the psychological components that work together and create “brand loyalty”. I am a consummate consumer myself, and I can give you the rationale and reasoning (or lack thereof) behind many of the items I choose to buy.

Today, we were talking about a client’s business, and the different elements that contribute to loyalty. Our creative director talked about work on an account in a former life – an insurance company – who actually wanted their customers to file a claim. Unheard of, right? Well, this particular company had such phenomenal service, they knew that if their customer had one interaction with them, at a time of stress and worry, when something bad had happened – well, because they provided such great service, they knew that they’d have that customer for life.

That’s money in the bank, and that’s running your business well. Not many people have a product, brand, company that they’d commit to for life. But it also requires a commitment to that goal from the client. (important!)

Last month, when I was traveling (via train) with my interactive director, we were talking web stuff, and the subject of domain names came up. I asked him who he’s used – he answered, “GoDaddy” and then he asked who I used for my own website. DirectNIC, I told him. He laughed. Because he used to use directNIC, but as time went on, nobody seemed to recognize their name. I said that I’d happened onto them when I was helping my dad with his website, and had just stuck with them since.  Plus, when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, the staff at directNIC was in the thick of everything happening – and they stayed in their offices through the whole ordeal, blogging a live feed, posting photos, etc. I felt good about them. They were dedicated, they were reassuring everyone their data was going to be protected as best they could – and then they also had a unique opportunity to give the world more information.

But I still don’t know if I’d call myself “loyal”. Just stickin’ with ’em. Until tonight. Because as I referenced earlier, I had a devil of a time this past weekend, getting my little shopfront up and running, and then trying to redirect a sub-domain in my blog to that storefront. I knew it was on me to do it, and let’s face it, skilled in this arena, I am not.  I had two trouble tickets open – the first was closed quickly, refunding me the money I’d spent for a redirect, and then a day later, the second ticket was closed, stating that I couldn’t do what I’d figured out I couldn’t do. Ya know. Re-direct. As both tickets were closed, so was the issue in my mind. And then, tonight, I got an email from another tech specialist, who read my blog post about the situation, and he not only confirmed (in plain English) what wouldn’t work, but offered a solution, if I wanted to try to do something else differently. It isn’t something I’m going to do, BUT. BUT! BUT! He read my post. He responded to me when the ticket had already been closed. He went above and beyond. And now? I’m a loyal customer. Happy. Impressed.

There are other brands, products, entities, to which I’m fiercely loyal. Viva paper towels, for instance. Colgate toothpaste. Another brand (not mentioned)  -out of the blue- asked us to pitch them, and I can’t even begin to tell you how that feels. Like I’ve waited my whole career for this, quite frankly. I’ve done some unique, creative, innovative stuff – and I’m not even in the creative department. But this account would be like ….getting to work on a crazy yarn consortium consisting of Blue Moon Fiber Arts, Colinette, Hand Maiden, Louet, Wollemeisse and Noro. And all of them are giving you free yarn. I know. All my knitters just kinda wet their pants. Sorry! But I’m just that excited. Brand loyalty can really be that cool.

(Should know shortly on the business, too.)

“Political” advertising we both finally agree on….

The Wo and I are often diametrically opposed when it comes to voting. Oddly enough, we agree on some major issues, yet we still diverge when the time to align with Blue or Red waves its flag.

However, this commercial caught my eye this weekend, and we both were impressed. Could we finally have the lynchpin to unite this country? Because something has to change. All the videos on the Edin08 site are thought-provoking, if not downright horrifying. Just try to watch “Future of America” and not shake your head.

Say what you want about Kanye West, and how he’s seen as outspoken, brash, arrogant – but he’s put himself into this campaign, and for that, I am grateful. Would that more like him join – he’s a role model for so many of James’ students, who whole-heartedly believe they’ll be a rapper (or basketball star) when they grow up, when in fact they have a greater chance of being hit by lightning.  And while the children themselves can be motivated to succeed and learn while they’re in the classroom, it’s the home environment that has to sustain it, foster it, nay, demand it.

4 Years, Babuh!

I was thinking about blogging, and how it’s changed so much for me over the years…. at first, JWo didn’t even know I was blogging. At first, only three people read my blog. And, at first, I had no idea what the future held.

Well, I still don’t know what the future holds, but it is interesting to go back and read blog posts from different time periods. I catch myself reading the ones before my father’s death with a certain wistfulness and longing, like how you might look at a photo of yourself as a child. I had no idea what was coming. Wasn’t even on the radar.

But we’ve soldiered on, and now I have new digs, and MOO cards, and a job I really like, and small knitty-business-ey things taking off, and right at the moment, nobody is gravely ill. So I count my blessings, and thank everyone for their time – witnessing the roller coaster from hell wasn’t part of the Fun Jen package, and I am always wide-eyed with a touch of naiveté when people really – honestly and truly – just pull themselves right up to the same precipice and lock arms with me and say, “I’m with ya.” Having been on the outside-looking-in my whole life, I forget I’m not alone out here. And that’s really the message of life, isn’t it? To recognize what is at your feet, your front door, a click or a call away – not focusing on the things you don’t have anymore or wishing life were different. I can’t say I wouldn’t undo some of the past, would I were that powerful, but I know regretting it or looking at it too long can turn me to stone.

So, the fun thing – and yes, I realize I start 8 bajillion sentences with the word “So” – came to me last night as I was driving home after Sock Stars (the sock club I facilitate at The Studio). I love words. I love writing. I want to list, each week, words that I think describe me – both good and bad and in-between, and do this exercise alphabetically. It seemed like a fun anniversary kick-off, and I was enjoying the words in my head so much I drove right past Red Snapper and nearly forgot to pick up our dinner. (But I did remember before I’d gotten too far past it…. whew! What with gas hitting $4.09 today, I can’t afford daydreaming and getting lost like I used to!)

I might do one word a post, or five in one, but my goal is to have at least five words a week. It actually gets challenging! You try, too! (ala Pooh.) (Oh yeah, we all get to cheat on “X”, too.)

Week One: A is for….

Animated.

Acerbic.

Aggravating.

Argumentative.

Amusing.

Artistic.

helpful hint – a thesaurus is your friend!

All-in-All, A Good Day.

The beginning of my day had someone telling me they thought I was brilliant (and no, they weren’t from Dublin, where EVERYthing is brilliant), and it came from someone I respect, so it definitely meant something. The end of my day (well, the sun’s going down, anyway) contained an email from The Loopy Ewe, informing me of a sneak-up, and my DPN holders are in the store. I hope they sell at least one or two, so I don’t throw up in horror and embarrassment! No news on the scarf exchange, but I appreciate the sympathy and shared frustration with the situation. It’s a bummer, but what can I do at this point? Nuttin’, honey.

There’s lots of other good news, but if I stuffed it all into one blog post? It’d be like eating all your movie theater candy in the first five minutes. But hinty-hinty, we have done our part to stimulate the economy in the past three days, and someone just might have herself a fabulous birthday present! :)

Revisionist History

I used to want to be Madeleine Kahn when I grew up, because she wasn’t a standard measure of beauty or aspiration. Of course, she was beautiful, but mostly she was hilarious. The sort of gal who would throw you for a loop when she opened her mouth and cursed like a sailor or something, but you didn’t have time to be shocked because you were already laughing. Then she died at the very young age of 57.

So, now I want to be a blend of a couple other atypical women. Swoosie Kurtz reminds me of Madeleine Kahn, to some extent, and Kathy Bates is flat out talented, funny, and scary as hell if your name is “James Caan”.

I know, I’m going to always be… ME. I’m ok with that. But I get flashes of the women who’ve influenced my life, and who I want to become as I age (gracefully or not), and I am keenly aware of how Hollywood makes women my age “disappear”. I’m just not comfortable blending into the wallpaper. I never have been. It’s a joke I love to say, “I’m shy.” Of course, I can be, I can dislike talking or dealing with people or situations and want/need time to myself, but I’m the girl who wants to charge forward when something feels scary or intimidating. Beat it down and smile like a fool.

In other good news, I think it’s finally safe to announce it: I’m capable of truly being happy. I made small talk with a stranger at Sweet Tomatoes the other night and laughed and realized from the inside out, it didn’t have an iota of “cover” or lie in it. You wouldn’t assume it to be true – I’ve cried more the past two days, between blog posts and NPR stories (oh my god, you have to listen to this one – I had no idea, and it’s so heartwarming. And such proof that one person can make all the difference in the world.)

But I think a part of me is finally buying into the idea that it might, after all, be ok. I know I’m going to have my dips, my nose-dives, my hull will drag on the sandbar and I will be buffeted into rocky outcrops. But in the end, I want to be someone who made a difference, and didn’t give up. Always with some laughs along the way.

I’d prefer "Jaguar", please.

So, I’m turning 40 soon. As in, within a couple of weeks. One of my friends was sending out a happy hour email, and I got served an ad in Google, apparently because “40” and “birthday” were in the same message. What was that small text ad?

“Cougar Bars”

What did I think when I saw it? Some sort of granola energy chew. Followed immediately by “Hrm, cougars IN bars?” And wondered how a meat bar really worked and would it be good for sack lunches? Then the rest of the text battered through my fogbanks: “Find Local Cougar Bars Near You. 100% Free. Join Now!” Yet still, I was trying to figure out if this was like, say, a Dachshund enthusiasts group. But the web address finally dismissed every doubt or nuance of confusion: date a cougar, dot com.
Holy carp! Holy crap! I don’t want to date a cougar! I don’t want to BE a cougar! I am NOT a cougar! WTF?!

Aging is great for all the wisdom and perspective but it totally sucks for advertising and hearing about all the things “wrong” with you. I’m supposed to buy all these creams and collagen-enhanced lotions for my skin. (I’m sure the collagen comes from cougars!) I’m supposed to start taking soy. (Comes from pumas, I hear.) Eventually I will burst into flames on an irregular basis. Meanwhile, men just age gracefully and become more… distinguished. Nobody ever calls them “an iguana” if they parade a young hottie on their arm. Matter of fact, I think we should start the trend right now. If women over a certain age are dating younger men, and society insists on calling them “cougars” (I mean, can’t you just see the wildcat tearing out the frat boy’s throat?) – well, I say we start the Iguana Movement as our own counterpoint.

Jack Nicholson, I’m looking right at you, my friend.


Betrayal of the Sisterhood

I am all sorts of salty right now. Between all the grammar errors around town, and life stress, and a couple crazy situations, and people not using their manners, I am very …. salty. Sharp. Yet blunt. I recall a dinner long ago, with a group of people, and one fellow said every single thing that came into his head, regardless of how inappropriate or uncouth it might have been. I had had just enough wine at that point, and I finally turned to him and said, “Joseph! You need a FILTER!” Which I then explained to him meant he needed a filter between his brain and his tongue.

All of us have layers of filters – we insert more proper filters for business settings, sometimes we remove several and sometimes alcohol renders them null and void (note to self, shouting “Fuck” while seated at the Pope Table at Buca can alarm the elderly walking past). When my buckets of joy are not full, I notice that my filters wear thin or sometimes disappear. This doesn’t mean I walk around screaming expletives at strangers (unless you cut me off, but then I’d be driving, eh?) But my patience ebbs out and I can get blunter and I don’t call upon my thesaurus of words to couch what I’m thinking. Which leads us to yesterday’s blunt transgression, where I pretty much revealed the essence of why men don’t understand women.

A friend of mine is going through a divorce. At first, it appeared to be a pretty simple split, he initiated the process, but she agreed it was best, and really didn’t seem to be too upset. But then she started talking to friends, who convinced her she should get all sorts of money (he’s not rich) and alimony to boot (she has a stable job). Understandably, he’s frustrated, because he’s not made of money, and he just wants to move on with his life. So on his daily candy visit, he asked me, “What is the deal with women? Just tell me!”

I paused, and I folded my hands, and I decided to just give it to him straight. I said, “Every woman has an abyss within her that will never be filled.”

It blew his mind. I qualified it, that every woman’s abyss has a different aperture size, the degree it controls and influences varies, and that a lot depends on the coping skills and self-awareness of the individual – but that there is always going to be some piece, some part of us that is never fully satisfied. And ultimately, it’s no man’s job to fill it. (I think a lot of women think it is their partner’s job, which is only a recipe for heartache.) Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it doesn’t apply to every woman. But I know for myself, some of the purpose that abyss serves is to motivate me. It also is the part that questions and wonders and ruminates – sometimes too much, but it does force me to recognize when things in my life aren’t matching up, if I’m unhappy with a friend or a situation, it makes me think and search for a solution. Is it negative? Sure, sometimes. That hole inside is where my deepest, meanest, darkest insecurities try to hide and pull their strings.

I was standing at the front desk when my friend returned from lunch, and there were five women there as well, talking, so I did an informal poll. And all of them paused, tilted their heads a little, and then nodded. One co-worker said she’s always described it as a desire to continue on to the next thing, a driving force that there is never a “done” or “end” to. That’s perhaps a little more palatable than an endless emptiness.

It’s not to say we’re never satisfied. We can look at a task completed as well-done, we can see something we created and feel good, feel proud. And most women I know immediately start thinking about…the next project.

Newer posts »

© 2025 PlazaJen: The Blog

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑