Looking Forward to Spring and New Beginnings

I am, by most accounts, a pretty tough chick. (That is to say, one that is strong on the outside even though my insides might be crumbling.) Those that know me well will not dispute this. Like most, I’ve been through my share (and then some) in life that gives the “rite of passage” to that title – and most of you have it too. Luckily I have sarcasm and wit to get me through and keep me grounded – along with some really great friends!

I won’t go into it here, of course, about how many times the shoe dropped, and then the floor, and then…how it all went pitch black. I won’t say that I’ve been through more or less than any of you, just that like many of you, I’ve been through the ringer more than once. I sometimes wonder how I still function when there are days I seem to be hanging on by my thumbs. But then, one of my favorite sayings goes something like this:

That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

It’s that whisper of a voice inside my head and I cling to it like a child to a blanket.

I am stronger.

No matter how strong or tough or resilient I may proclaim to be, nothing could have prepared me for the flood of raw emotions that washed over me the day I left my office of many, many, many years. It was a long, lone walk to my car. I left my friends, my knowledge, my comfort zone, my five weeks vacation, my freedom, my worklife as I know it. I snuck out like a thief in the night. The brave girl was no more than a coward that day. But you do what you have to in order to survive – in this case it was emotional survival.

I tried to view this as I would the season of Spring – a new beginning – a fresh start – exactly what my life needs.

So I’m just going to thank my friends and co-workers for some of the things I gleaned from them over the years.

To:

TB – Cynicism and wit, brains and sarcasm. Faith. Friendship

KM - Access conversations that no one else could understand, patience, guidance, patience, mentoring, patience, blogging,…(did I mention patience?)

JMC - Coffee, T-time, breaks, vending trees, laughter, truth, and nobility

And the rest of the crew for one or more of the following:

Bluefly

Concerts, JR and AD, Tear bottles, cats and coffee, August and Everything After

Bobbie Brown brick. Skirts, never shorts

Orazio

Math help; Grey Goose

The New Yorker, dressing to the 9’s

Compliments

Advice: Never put anything in writing. Flat lines. Trust. Integrity

Pushing me and believing in me

Every “good morning” and the bad ones too

Sharing of birthdays and secrets

Demonstrativeness

Honesty, funny stories, genuineness, Courage under fire

“Whatever!”

The coolest gift certificate to the coolest gallery; flavored coffee

My freedom

Chats about mothers

Contacts, more laughter, morning coffee, a new song each day

…And all of these things, in their own way, are now part of me. I take them with me and I am grateful for these little treasures for they are priceless.

And always trying to be uplifting, someone said, “It will be interesting to see where your life is one year from now.”

It’s been 6 months. I have a new job, my own office with a window, a new title or hat to be worn, new responsibilities and new friends.

I don’t know why I landed here but I did – and like a cat (KAT), I landed on my feet.

So far so good.

Oh, and someone I met has concert ticket connections. Timing is everything! ;)

You Can't Count On Me

If you think you need to go
If you wanted to be free
There’s just one thing you need to know
And that’s that
You can’t count on me

Like every other CC fan, I am counting down to Counting Crows. The big day is March 25th. The first song they’ve released is You Can’t Count on Me. Give it a listen. CC rocks and Adam sizzles. My friend Steve summed it up perfectly (likening it to his attraction to Alicia Keyes) – you’re attracted for all the right reasons and all the wrong ones too.

I’ve already heard 5 of the songs from SNASM, and can tell you my favorite – it’s called Insignificant. I want to jump on stage in my stilettos and sing with Adam in his bare feet! This is my new Angels of the Silences (the original version) - the song that allows me to yell and sing, and exercise all those nasty demons that occasionally reside inside me. Something about both these songs gives me new energy and strength and, oddly enough, clarity.

I will more than likely “pre-order” Counting Crows new CD entitled Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings(SNASM). I truly miss the days of walking into Tommy Edward’s Record Heaven and sorting through the bins to find my treasure! Or talking to one of the storeowners and having them play a 45 for me, to make sure it didn’t skip before I purchased it. I miss seeing album covers plaster the walls of the store. I miss searching for my 45 and the feeling that welled inside of me of pure bliss when I found it and held it my hands – it was magical. I couldn’t wait to get home – I was practically crawling out of my skin to give it a listen – and then, I’d play my favorite song over and over and over and over – until my parents begged me to stop or put on my headphones. I’d listen to it as loud as I could - until the vibrations knocked off any poor knickknack that I carelessly placed upon my speakers. This time, however I will be just as ecstatic to open the brown Amazon box and take out my CC treasure.

I find, for me, that it is rare I listen to a CD it its entirety. I usually end up skipping a few songs or fast forwarding – basically moving about and getting to my favorites. Not so with the CC boys – it’ll be a guilty pleasure to actually listen to a CD all the way through – and I’ll read the liner notes too!

As it turns out, this is going to be quite a challenging week for me. There is an event coming up at work (aka my new gig) that I have been put in charge of. Basically its success or failure will lead to me. There are a myriad of people counting on me and, every time they tell me that, like it’s supposed to mean something to me, I smile...because secretly I’m thinking their fools, and they need to know what Adam knows -

And that's that
You can’t count on me

Happy Birthday Grammys

I have been around for 46, almost 47 years of the Grammys' existence. I can say with great enthusiasm and passion that music makes me who I am, what I am and how I live. I am not a musician, nor do I pretend to be. I am, like you, just a fan of great music. Tonight, the world of music will convene en mass to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Grammy; that little statue that means the most to an artist.

My friend Trixxxie Rix will not be in attendance this year. I could still kick myself in the ass as she asked me a few years back if I wanted to go with her to the Grammys. I could not fit it into my schedule and get the time off of work since at that time, I worked for Satan. More blogs to follow about that damn nightmare. Any who, she will be at home, like I, watching from a far instead of sunny LA. Trixxxie is in the mic biz and gets some perks from her work with respect to going to concerts, awards shows and the like. She has good street cred with the artists, they dig her. I was with her at the Billy Joel gig here in C-Town this summer and was in awe of her and how she rep'ed her company, and how she just smoothly went about her business. I dig her.

I suppose we both won't get to see Amy Winehouse. I have not one freaking clue as to why this chick fascinates me so damn much. It could be her tattoos, mostly cuz they are ole school and not that crap that the so called tattoo artists of today slap on you and stick a needle of ink to. She has them in good spots, good shading and they look like they just belong there. She is enjoying her skin while she is in it for sure. She also is apparently enjoying the hooch as well. She keeps a bottle handy as one line claims. My question is; just who is Mr. Hathaway? It appears from her words in "Rehab" that Mr. Hathaway just might have all of the answers to her troubles and woes. I sure as hell wish I knew Mr. Hathaway when I was falling down drunk and puking all over myself.

Whether or not we attend this most celebrated event of honoring those musicians and singers, composers, arrangers or the like, we still get to see and hear them in our living rooms tonight. Thanks to Santa Claus, I get to now watch in awe on an LCD Digital TV, or whatever it is. Hearing the melodic tones of Ms Winehouse come through my surround sound will be just what I need to make the ceremonies complete. Would I rather be sitting in the audience with Trixxxie, hell yes, but this will have to do for now. I will still have the music in me. I hope that it is in everyone. Celebrating music and letting it enrich our lives is something that a lot of us probably do on a daily basis. Music is everywhere and we rely on it as much as we do food and water. The lyrics literally speak to us, not at us. Words originating on paper, or a pizza box, coming through your speakers, and smacking you in your mind, your soul, making your heart sing a long.

Happy Birthday, Grammys. Oh, and Ms. Winehouse, if I may, you speak of 70 days, here in the U.S. it is 90 days, 90 meetings. And Mr. Hathaway does not exist if you wish to get clean and sober; it is Dr. Bob and Bill W. And if I may return the favor of saying something about "rehab", it is this; Rehab is for quitters. Get it? I knew that you would. Good luck baby, in all of this.

The Blessing

I’ve met so many new people through my new job. I’m, unfortunately, one of “those people”... a person who is truly terrible at remembering names. I’m getting better.

A few weeks ago I met one of the field workers. We were introduced through a mutual co-worker. He is an alcoholic. A recovering alcoholic because as he says, “I’m still an alcoholic. It’s not called alcohol-wasm, it’s called alcohol-ism.” He knows who he is. He knows who he wants to be and who he doesn’t want to be. He knows he is always “one drink away.” He carries the “coins” in his pocket. He reminds me of another friend.

He is a biker who used to ride with Hell’s Angels, though he never wore their colors nor bore their patch. He still does poker runs. He’ll be going to Vegas in the springtime.

His name I will never forget.

My friend Jim has found his freedom and his faith. If you’ve ever been on a motorcycle, you know that kind of freedom. As for faith, Jim can both bless and baptize you. After a minor injury, he stopped in to see me. We talked about his health, his well-being, and a myriad of other things. I was having a horrible morning and he could sense it even though I thought I was doing remarkably well at hiding it.

He asked me, “Has anyone told you today that you are special and absolutely wonderful just the way are?” I said nothing. He continued.

“Has anyone told you that someone loves you very much and is grateful you are part of their life and this world?” I just listened. Sometimes we forget to just listen.

“Then can I give you this blessing today?” Yes. Thank you. I just smiled and nodded at him.

It was the nicest thing anyone had said and done to me that week. It reminded me of my friend Teri who got me reading Anne LaMott because, “She has a knack for finding God in the oddest places.”

To Thine Own Self Be True
(That's what's on the coin - but some of you already knew that.)

Sometimes we just have to count our blessings. And all that being said, please allow me to introduce my friend, Hennessy. Since Kevin has left the Gut for bigger and better things (you know where to find him), I’ve asked Hennessy to help me out here at the Gut. I’ve had the pleasure of being part of his inner circle. I’ve read some of his work because he trusted me enough to do so (and vice versa).

They say a writer cuts himself open and “bleeds” all over the paper. He definitely delves emotionally deeper than I allow myself and I have enjoyed everything of his that I’ve read. I think you will too.

So Hennessy…Welcome and thank you for saying yes.