Barely keeping my eyes open

The lack of sleep for me has been somewhat rewarding.
Work, going out, staying up after the bars close, sleep
Work, going out, staying up after the bars close, sleep
Etc.

I am not sure how I am running on anything but an empty tank right now.
But for once in my life, I don't regret it.
For once I am doing stuff for me.

I am growing short with people though, which brings me to my #1 problem in Dallas.
No one here understands the concept of the left lane is for passing.
Everyday I drive to work there are at least 7 drivers that sit in the left lane going no faster than 60, usually only 55. IN THE LEFT LANE!!!!

This drives me absolutely crazy. So if you are reading this, I better not see you sitting in the left lane, especially when someone behind you obviously is trying to go faster than you. Maybe it is because I have had to take defensive driving so many times that I know this, but it's the law that slower traffic is to stay to the right.

So that is my weird rant for the day. Or week. Or however long it takes me to catch up on sleep.

love to all.

C

Imaginary friend

I am quite shocked that I never had an imaginary friend as a child. With two older brothers and many neighborhood kids to keep me busy, I never felt like I needed someone else to talk to. I had a mother who stayed at home with us until we were in school, she even taught me kindergarten (which I am still a little bitter about since I didn't get a real kindergarten graduation). I remember while my brothers played baseball, soccer and pretty much every other sport and I was dragged along, I would go find a quiet place and play by myself. This was one of the very few moments when I was alone. From about age 3 to 7 I was obsessed with the mud. So I used these alone times to find the one or more places with mud. I am sure I was a sight for my parents eyes when they would come looking for me and find me in my cute little girl clothes covered in mud.

I miss those simple days. The kind of days that the most important thing to do is get dirty and not having to worry about how to get clean. I find myself at least once a day wishing I was a kid again. I was a weird ass kid, but I enjoyed it until I got to the point where all I wanted to do was grow up. How do you possibly convince a child that they should not rush adulthood? The one thing I hold tight to as an adult is my child-like imagination. When I decided I didn't want to be seen as a kid anymore, I think my imagination intensified. It was like I knew I would need something to keep me attached to my kid self. I still have such a vivid imagination that takes hold of me especially in the last few moments before I go to sleep. I miss being a kid, I miss the mud, but thank goodness I still have my imagination.

P.S. I will have to find a picture of me when I was little and playing in the mud.

Standing in the same place

For past few months, ever since my birthday, I have lacked a significant genuine emotion. Nothing has brought me severe sadness, happiness, anger, hopefulness or excitement. While most people may see no problem with this, I have been extremely bothered by it. Considering these are the things that spur my inspiration to write.

Ever since my birthday, life for me has been a whirlwind. I feel like I have had very few moments to myself and even less moments to do what makes me truly happy. This by no means is any kind of regret or blame put on anyone. I have been working, going out of town, moving and all with my usual social schedule. And while I love the life I have thus far, I wish my motivation to write was more intact.

I have felt stagnant in Dallas for some time now. I know it is not the people, because I have grown so close to many amazing people here, but I think it has more to do with the lack of spark between my synapses. I have been reading uncontrollably but that really isn't bringing emotion either.

The other night I was at a friend's house and something was said that made me realize I may not be the only person in the world that has a hard time conjuring up inspiration. I realized I was not really doing anything different day-to-day. Nights I would spend with the same people. Days at work. Going to the same places I had been going for over a year now. So I realized that was more than likely the reason for my feeling of stagnancy, and possibly my problem of inspiration. I miss being able to write almost everyday. I was much more in tune with myself when I was writing more.

So I changed my blog name and such to make it more about me. Music is part of me, so I am sure it will be making some appearances. But this will be me...trying to come up with something creative, and make some kind of revelation that could some day turn into a book.

My thoughts on myself and music

I have always been the type of person that has wanted to try every creative outlet possible. I have painted, drawn, written, played music...but it has always stopped at writing music. Because I am a writer I think the words wouldn't be that hard, but every time I try to sit down and write actual music, I hit a proverbial wall that will not fall down.

The picture I chose for this post is pretty odd, and most people would not understand it, so I shall try and explain. My open wound that I will continue to feed with vinegar is live music. I have loved music since I was very small. I sang up until I graduated high school, I played piano for six years, I have tried to learn various other instruments since then. I love music. I love the process. I love the notes, everyone of them. I myself, cannot make it. The picture above is probably one of musical idols which most people would probably cringe at, but I think there is much to be said about him.

To me a song is usually made of simple aspects put together precisely to make it come together. There is a melody, a harmony, a bass line of some kind, a rhythm. But Sufjan Stevens does something I can only wish I could do. He is more of a composer I think. I have admired him from a far for a good four years now, and finally last November I hoped a plane and decided to go see him live in person. This was not just an ordinary show that I went to either. He had orchestrated and taped a whole movement for his love/hate relationship with the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. The creativity from this man just showed itself all over the room.

The second half of the show was of his own songs that he had recorded along with the whole orchestra from the first half. You could hear a pin drop in that theatre. It was the most surreal moment of my life. I looked around only to see people staring in awe at this person. I know most everyone in that place knew some words to his music, but not a one was uttered. It was fabulous.

So this brings me to the fact that I could not even come close to something like that. As much as I have tried to plant myself at a piano for at least an hour to come up with something, I could never do it. So instead I surround myself with talented individuals that can write songs like I only wish I could. Many people ask me why I go out so much, and my simple reply is "I love music, I have to be around it". I would not live without it. It as much a creative breathe in my lungs as writing is, even though I am not the one doing it. And that is my wishful thinking that maybe one day I will be able to sit and write music for myself.

Sunday Night Drinking Contest at Barley House

I have attended the Drinking Contest for almost the whole running. Dave Little is pretty much the organizer of the whole thing. He invites various Dallas artists to play a few songs and they usually intermix with each other. I have seen many artists play including: Dave Little, Danny Balis, Camille Cortinas, Billygoat Brink, Eric Neal, Chris Holt, Stu-dicious, Chad Stockslager, Ryan Hamilton, and so many others.



Last night was a bit different than most other Sunday evenings. We got there thinking it was only Dave Little and Nick Durham would be playing and that Chris Holt might make it. To our pleasant surprise more people showed up and it ended up being a wonderful evening. Some people took the drinking contest a little too seriously but it was still fabulous to see people there.

So for the rest of August come to Barley House on Sunday night for some really fun and intimate music from great local musicians.

08/08/08

Today has been odd. I started my day at work realizing how truly odd it was that I worked at a hospital and that I had done it for so long. It has been 2 and a half years since I started and I can remember how scared I was of what I would see. I remember thinking "how will I ever make IV's when I am super scared of needles?" I remember how scared I used to be to look in rooms, and how scared I was to see a dead body. This all faded, and actually to my surprise quite quickly. I got used to holding a needle, even though I would occasionally have bad thoughts of it piercing my skin. I almost always look in rooms now, even if I wish I hadn't, like when I saw the old man's penis. I still have a hard time with a dead body thing, but I have seen a few now...actually some in their last moments of life.

What I can't get over, no matter how long I have worked in a hospital is the aspect of loss. The actual process of dying. The tragic stories, the tear-filled eyes of family members that I see in the hall, or like today, the thought of someone so young not getting their chance to live. I have witnessed lots of tragic things here and the last hospital I was at, but they still upset me. The thought of most of them bring tears to my eyes. The 8 year old brought to the lobby in his teenage sister's arms even though he was already gone. The 17 year old that I saw in his last moments after overdosing on heroine. The two children that died in a car accident and their parents surviving. The many premature babies that come in here, that can't hold onto their few moments of life. And like today, the 34 year old with cancer that went through so much pain, that it was freedom from his suffering to let go of life. It's not just the stories that upset me, it's the tear-streaked faces in the hallway, the screaming cries from the patients rooms, and the people that I hear talk about not knowing how to survive without their loved one. This is what I have a hard time coping with.

I couldn't shake the feeling I had until I got away from the hospital. I thought about it the whole way home, and how hard it must be for a parent to survive their child's death. I just couldn't imagine what it must feel like to be almost cheated of the time spent with your child. I would have questions for our Creator that's for sure. Mostly of "why"? I wonder how many of these people ask those same questions.

So that being the day I had, I felt so emotionally drained by the time to get myself ready. I also wondered how long I could actually put up with the job that emotionally drains me that often. I already want to leave as it is but when days like this happen, it becomes almost unbearable. So this is me being human. This is me admitting getting upset about something. I never thought I could handle a hospital, and that was before I realized all I would subject myself to. But here I am 2 years later, still upset about frailty of human life, and I hope that will never change.

Being gone...literally

I have been away from this for some time. Not sure who to write about and not sure if it was really even worth the effort. So today I am writing about music, but not about anyone specific. I have seen many bands in the time away, let's see how many I can remember...Airline, Billygoat Brink, Chris Holt, The Slack, Pet Hospital, Calhoun, Dave Little, The Monco Pancho, Salim Nourallah and the Noise (and solo), Fishing For Comets, Sarah Jaffe, Doug Burr, The King Bucks, The Backsliders, and I am sure many others.

The interesting thing I have noticed lately about music is that Dallas isn't really the best city to try and start a business out of music. Only few people leave Dallas with a major record deal or even their songs played on the radio. A friend of mine is in the works with Atlantic on a record deal and I couldn't be more proud and surprised. Not because these people don't deserve it, but because I know so many talented musicians that aren't getting record deals. For many years now I have dreamed of having my own radio station for these specific people. Local music wouldn't know what to do with themselves, having people know who they were and taking away from Top 40 music, which in my mind can suck it! I would just love for other people to hear the good music that I get to hear on a weekly basis. I know some might not share my enthusiasm for live music and that is fine, but I go to a very diverse group of shows. Surely someone will like one of them. There are some good advocates for Dallas music, such as the Gordon Keith show and the awards given by the Dallas Observer, but what else is really being done to help. Not a damn thing. It makes me sad.