Hey Jealousy

This will be my third year going on a yoga retreat on Maui in March, and one of the things I like best about returning to the same place year after year is that it makes it easier to see how I've changed over the course of the year.

The first retreat came during the first few months of splitting up with my husband, and I ended up largely using the time to grieve, falling apart in a way that I couldn't do at home in front of my kids.

For the second one, I was basically firmly rooted in my yeah-I'm-divorced-and-in-my-sexual-prime phase, so I capped off the trip with a twentysomething windsurfer my friends nicknamed Jesus (uncanny resemblance, isn't it?)

This year, I'll be heading to a beautiful island with lots of beautiful men once again, but my heart will likely spend its time split between Madison, where my kids will be, and New Hampshire, where my boyfriend lives.

He and I talked about what might happen if I see Jesus again while I'm there, which both brought up this song and turned into an interesting conversation about jealousy, that primitive emotion that does not respond well to rational thought. I get the jealousy thing because I went through it big time when he hooked up with an old girlfriend earlier on in our relationship (we'd decided that it wasn't fair to put an exclusivity clause into a long distance relationship).

I don't know whether my windsurfer will have gone back to Eastern Europe by now, but I do know this: as exciting and lovely as the hook-up with the Jesus look-alike was, the love I've got going now makes a far more compelling religious experience.

Hawaii

Lying around much of the day today feeling poorly, I'm starting to prepare for my trip to Hawaii this week. I was pumped to find this song by The Strokes to express my need for that place, my love for that place, and the sheer amazement that it is one of our 50 states:

Still my favorite place

In this whole wide world

Has got to be in the middle

of the ocean floor.

I see you poking out of the ocean.

Paradise on Earth.

The 50th state - WHAT?!

Hawaii.

We got it made

Yes, i know.

can we go

by plane or boat.

whether you take it slow

or you let me go

whether you tell me something

that i did not know

whether you're neat and polite

or you scream and fight

whether you keep something from me

that i wouldn't like

still my favorite attitude

in this world so far

is the friendly spirit

of an iron heart

like the way folks are in

this most special place

i dont care what happens

i'm taking a plane to

hawaii

hawaii

hawaii

hawaii

hawaii

hawaii

hawaii

hawaii

The Only Way is Up

Today is the anniversary of the birth of a dear friend. A friend I've known for nearly two decades. It probably isn't surprising that we've seen each other through a lot of changes in nearly 20 years of friendship -- including one marriage each (hers began after mine ended), a bout of breast cancer, a bout (or two) of depression, some serious boozin', and a whole lot of fabulous, global adventures.

Whenever we traveled together, we both brought songs with us -- we wiled away hours on trains across Europe singing every song we both knew the words to -- and acquired some in transit. This song fits into the latter category. When we were both nearly 21, we traveled to The Netherlands together, where we stayed with a friend in Rotterdam. Aside from other Dutch-approved activities, we hung out and watched music videos at his apartment, and we always got an extra spring in our step when this one came on.

We still quote this song to each other to this day. The last time she said "the only way is up" to me, as I recall, my answer was "yep, except when it's down." And that's how I was feeling at the time. The good news is, we both now know that neither up nor down is ever permanent, and the even better news is, we largely figured that out together.

Tonight, I'm dedicating this song to my friend and her husband as they restart their lives together in a sweet little pad in Queens:

Aaah,

Boy I want to thank you,

yeah, for loving me this way

Things may be a little hard now

but we’ll find a brighter day

Oh yeah,

(hold on) hold on

(hold on) hold on

Ooooh, oooh ooh

(hold on) hold on

(hold on) won’t be long,

Oh yeah

The only way is up, baby

for you and me now

The only way is up, baby

for you and me now

oooo ooh ooooooooh….

A Case of You

Last night at my son's solo and ensemble concert, I was, as usual, moved to tears on numerous occasions, including watching him play his trombone. But what really got me going was one of his friends covering this sweet little ditty by Joni Mitchell. I'd never heard it before, but it's got a great sound and some really great lyrics:

I remember that time that you told me, you said

Love is touching souls

Surely you touched mine

Cause part of you pours out of me

In these lines from time to time

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

No one sings and plays the guitar quite like Joni, but watching my son's friend play the guitar as she sang, I resolved once again that this would be the year I'd finally start taking the guitar lessons I've wanted to take for so long.

One of these days I just may have a cover of this song on you tube, but in the meantime, although none of these feature the guitar, these chicks all do a decent cover: Diana Krall, KD Lang and Tori Amos. I dig all those chicks, but I think my favorite version (second only to Joni's) is by an honorary chick: Prince.

Democracy

Tonight I'm just going to let Leonard Cohen, one of the finest poets of the last century, speak for me.

This video recording of his powerful song begins with Leonard reciting its powerful last verse:

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean

I love the country but I can't stand the scene.

And I'm neither left or right

I'm just staying home tonight,

getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags

that Time cannot decay,

I'm junk but I'm still holding up

this little wild bouquet:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

I sure hope he's right, and I can relate to a lot of that verse, but this one is my favorite:

It's coming to America first,

the cradle of the best and of the worst.

It's here they got the range

and the machinery for change

and it's here they got the spiritual thirst.

It's here the family's broken

and it's here the lonely say

that the heart has got to open

in a fundamental way:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Here's to the heart opening in a fundamental way. If it doesn't, I reckon it's going to break. Then again, in my experience outside the politisphere, sometimes the opening of the heart doesn't come until after it breaks...

Look At Miss Ohio

I'm home sick today -- the virus that has been wrestling with my immune system for the past week seems to have finally won this round. I went to see my acupuncturist this morning, and afterward I went to the grocery store to get some of the ingredients for the recipe she'd recommended to help strengthen my immune system so it can triumph once again.

When I walked into the store, this song was playing. It's a favorite of mine, and it became so during a time in my life where I could pretty directly relate to Miss Ohio:

Oh me oh my oh, look at Miss Ohio

She’s a-running around with her rag-top down

She says I wanna do right but not right now

Gonna drive to Atlanta and live out this fantasy

Running around with the rag-top down

Yeah I wanna do right but not right now

Singing it to myself as I put my groceries away and started cooking, I heard it more metaphorically, with a meaning that applies to a wider variety of situations than just being wild and boy-crazy. I think there are many situations where we as human beings know what the right thing to do is -- and here I am defining that as the choice that makes us feel good about ourselves on a human-to-human level -- but we choose to do otherwise. When this happens, it tends to come from a place of fear, or pain, or both, just as, for me at least, the Miss-Ohio like choices did, rather than from a place of love.

When we make these sorts of choices, people in our lives tend to want to point out to us the harm they are doing, but we don't want to hear it:

I know all about it, so you don’t have to shout it

I’m gonna straighten it out somehow

Yeah I wanna do right but not right now

Because hearing it often means having to examine our behavior, and deal with behavior of which we may not be proud, and the emotions underlying our choices.

Luckily, it's never too late to make a different choice. We can do this at any moment by owning where we've been and where we want to be now...

Sundays

Most weeks, I really dig Sunday. When I don't have my kids, I usually bike downtown and go to yoga; when I do, I enjoy the last few hours with them before they go to their Dad's. Every week I teach yoga at 12:45pm, after which I often go running or cross country skiing, and then I teach again at 5:30pm. Lots of activity, lots of yoga, generally a good thing.

But this morning I woke up feeling unsettled. Might've been a hangover from that rough flick I watched yesterday, might've been the fact that my bed was empty (a friend had stayed over the night before and the kids had come down for a big old snuggle in the morning), might've been that my body felt like it was succumbing to whatever it'd been fighting off, might've been the knowledge that I'm likely to have a pretty wild work week ahead of me...

Whatever it was, when my ipod shuffled onto this Lucinda track this morning, I could fully relate:

I can't seem to make it through Sunday

I can't seem to make it through Sunday

Monday through Saturday I get by just fine

Every other day of the week I feel alright

But I don't know why

I don't know why

I can't seem to make it through Sunday

I can't seem to make it through Sunday

Sunday's supposed to be the day for kicking off your shoes

But how come that's the day I always get the blues

And I don't know why

I don't know why

I can't seem to make it through Sunday

I can't seem to make it through Sunday

But here I am. I made it. I still don't feel particularly well physically, and I definitely spent a fair amount of this sleety day wet and cold, but I also enjoyed teaching and practicing yoga, got to hang with a good friend for dinner, got to talk to my man, and now, I get to go to sleep. And no matter how good or bad a day I have, I always relish that part.

Speaking of relishing, I'm sorry to say I could not find a recording of Lucinda singing this song on you tube, but I did find one of The Kentucky Waterfalls covering it, and it's pretty sweet. The male - female call and response really works with this song. Enjoy!

You're Beautiful

If you're not familiar with this song, it begins:

My life is brilliant.

And mine is, especially in comparison with the people depicted in the film my friend and I took in this afternoon: Biutiful. Probably the best word I can think of to describe this film is gritty. Scene after scene revealed the horrors endured by those who live life at the margins: poor working conditions, threat of deportation, prison, drug addiction, bipolar disorder, alcoholism, carbon monoxide poisoning, child abuse, prostrate cancer, prostitution... And the list goes on.

It probably would have been too much to take if it hadn't been packaged so beautifully - when my friend asked if I wanted to see Javier Bardem in Biutiful this weekend I answered that I wanted to see Javier in anything, anytime. Mmmmmm:

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

You're beautiful, it's true.

I saw your face in a crowded place,

And I don't know what to do,

'Cause I'll never be with you.

Yep, Javier is one of a handful of people (I was going to say dudes but Kate Winslet is also on my list) who have the power to temporarily make me feel exactly like James Blunt does in this song about the chick he meets on the subway, but like James and his random encounter, there isn't a future for me with Javier:

But it's time to face the truth,

I will never be with you.

One of the saddest parts of the movie is when his 10 year old daughter has to face that she will no longer get to be with her Dad -- I sat there sobbing when he died lying next to her in bed. My friend didn't shed any tears -- partly because he's a dude, maybe, and as he theorized, maybe because I have children whom I cannot imagine having to leave on this Earth while they are still little birds who need looking after.

The movie definitely hit me on that level -- my daughter's sound spelling (the title comes from his daughter's sound spelling of beautiful) totally touches my heart. On the list she worked on this weekend of potential independent project topics she put:

What would it be like to be: an edeter

Person I could interview: my Dad.

Reading that this morning before I said goodbye to her and sent her to her Dad's, and then seeing this movie this afternoon, I'm sooooooo grateful that even if we're not living in the same house, my kids get to grow up with both of their parents fully present in these formative years.

Beautiful.

Songbird

It isn't just the temperature inside the Capitol that has been rising over the past few days -- the warming trend has continued on the thermometer as well. The other morning when I left for work on my bike, I enjoyed the sound of songbirds on what for months had been a frozen, silent ride.

This morning walking with my son to school, he noticed the songbirds too. The main thing melting snow means to him is that soccer games move outside again -- and he's ready for it. (Of course, this is Wisconsin, so we'll undoubtedly swing back in the other direction before the winter completely gives way to spring.)

I gotta admit, it's a giant relief to me to hear the birds singing again, even if I have had this one to keep me company this winter:

Her name is Annie, and it may look like she's about to migrate, but she always stays right here with me. When I got her, I knew on an intellectual level I'd find a man with whom I'd want to nest again, but I was so far from feeling it that a huge part of me didn't trust it. I felt a little less alone once she landed on my arm, but nothing compared to the love I now feel coming from my man -- even across the miles.

Yep, hearing this song from Oasis this morning, I'm feeling tons of gratitude that the better days are here:

Talking to the songbird yesterday

Flew me to a place not far away

She's a little pilot in my mind

Singin songs of love to pass the time

Gonna write a song so she can see

Give her all the love she gives to me

Talk of better days that have yet to come

Never felt this love from anyone

We're Not Gonna Take It

Today the winds have shifted:

More people, less hope, more anger.

After being escorted out of the Capital this afternoon, I rode my bike past a group of protesters blaring this decidedly less peaceful song:

We're not gonna take it

No, we ain't gonna take it

We're not gonna take it anymore

We've got the right to choose and

There ain't no way we'll lose it

This is our life, this is our song

We'll fight the powers that be just

Don't pick our destiny 'cause

You don't know us, you don't belong

We're not gonna take it

No, we ain't gonna take it

We're not gonna take it anymore...

Blowin' in the Wind

Whenever I left my office today, I ran into a sea of people. Walking outside the building, protesters everywhere, I heard someone say it felt like the 60s. Even though I didn't experience the 60s myself, it felt like I imagined it felt then: people were energized, people were making their voices heard, people were expressing their displeasure, but they were doing so peacefully.

How this will all be resolved is hard to imagine at the moment, but it feels like a Dylan moment if ever I've felt one:

Yes, how many years can a mountain exist

Before it's washed to the sea ?

Yes, how many years can some people exist

Before they're allowed to be free ?

Yes, how many times can a man turn his head

Pretending he just doesn't see ?

The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, how many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky ?

Yes, how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry ?

Yes, how many deaths will it take till he knows

That too many people have died ?

The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind...

Walk Like An Egyptian

These chicks are such a fun blast from the past!

Today's inspiration came from one of the protester's signs at the capitol, which read: "Walker Like an Egyptian." Incendiary, no doubt, but clever. Temperatures were indeed running high today as people gathered and spoke out in protest of the attempt to take away collective bargaining rights.

As usual, fingers are pointed at each other and each side is reticent to take responsibility for their own part. Here's hoping we can find a peaceful solution where both sides give a little...

What's Love Got to Do With It

Valentine's Day has a completely different feel for me this year, and when I started to contemplate putting that difference into words, it was Tina's voice that serenaded me:

You must understand

That the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill

Of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore

That it means more than that

Sorry Tina, I can no longer ignore that it means more than that. Last year on Valentine's Day, that's exactly where I was -- the pulse reaction (and then the rest of the bod following) was the extent of it. And at that point, I was questioning, right along with Tina:

What's love got to do, got to do with it

What's love but a sweet old fashioned notion

What's love got to do, got to do with it

Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken

But this year, I know that the fact that a heart can break, as mine did, in no way nullifies my need (or my desire) for one. And I know that this sweet old fashioned notion is the sweetest notion there is...

Free Fallin'

Let the melting begin! When I got into my car this afternoon, the thermometer read 50 degrees -- and even without the direct sun, it was a solid 45 degrees. Ahhhhhh. I've been doing a damn fine job of winter appreciation this year, if I do say so myself, but snow and cold just cannot compare to sunshine and warmth for me. I started my car, opened my sun roof for the first time in months, (but left my seat heater on for good measure), and as if in celebration, this song was playing:

And I'm free, I'm free fallin'...

Tom released this gem during my senior year of high school. I can remember driving around with my friend Troy in his new Cougar (this was a time when the animal shared its name with automobiles but not with pouncing older women), and just cranking this song. I'm happy to report that a couple decades plus later, it was just as satisfying to crank it in my Volvo!

Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)

My kids and I went to the birthday party of a dear friend today who will be 10 years old tomorrow. It was an ambitious party -- 12 kids for 4 hours at his house --and the birthday boy did most of the party planning. The activities ranged from snowball fight to dance party complete with a mirror ball, videos projected on the walls, limbo -- you name it.

When I entered the dance party I saw my almost 11-year old dancing with his friends and had one of those "oh my god my kid is really growing up!" moments. The last song they played was one from my dancing days (not that they're over, but it was a throwback to an earlier era), and it was particularly fun to see my son and his pals groovin' to this number!

Maybe Not

It was a rough day today for a lot of Wisconsinites. The Governor announced his plan to have state and local employees contribute to their pensions and health insurance in an amount that results in a substantial pay cut for a lot of people. With a looming budget crisis and a populace coping with the aftershock of a significant recession, it isn't too difficult to craft an argument on either side. But whether or not you believe this is the best way to cope with a substantial budget deficit, what seems most important to me is to have compassion for the people it affects as well as the officials that have been elected to govern. These sorts of tough choices can't be easy for anyone.

Not sure if it'll be a consolation for anyone else in need of one -- but I really dig this chick and think this is one of her more powerful songs (not to mention apropos):

There’s a dream that I see, I pray it can be

Look cross the land, shake this land

A wish or a command

I Dream that I see, don’t kill it, it’s free

You’re just a man, you get what you can

We all do what we can

So we can do just one more thing

We can all be free

Maybe not in words

Maybe not with a look

But with your mind

Listen to me, don’t walk that street

There’s always an end to it

Come and be free, you know who we are

We’re just living people

We won’t have a thing

So we’ve got nothing to lose

We can all be free

Maybe not with words

Maybe not with a look

But with your mind...

Talk to Me

This morning my home phone rang -- hardly anyone calls me on my home phone except the kids' Dad who had already called -- and I wondered aloud who it could be. It was my therapist. She said she'd had a couple of cancellations and was wondering if I'd like to come in. I don't know how she knew -- I hadn't seen her in two months and wasn't formally on her cancellation list -- but after a rough day yesterday and a rough start to today, I knew better than to turn down such a handsome offer.

While this was certainly not Stevie's original meaning for this song, this is the one that came to me, and it is surprisingly apt:

I can see your expression when the phone rings

We both know there's something happening here

There's no sense in dancing round the subject

A wound gets worse when it's treated with neglect

Don't turn around there's nothing here to fear

You can talk to me

Talk to me

You can talk to me

You can set your secrets free, baby

I didn't realize until after the session just how badly I needed to do that. I've been struggling quite a bit the last few weeks adjusting to my new job. Because both money and time have been tight (and I didn't have insurance for a month), I went too long without seeing any of my pit crew (that team of professionals that helps keep me sane: my zero balancer/rolpher, my acupuncturist, my therapist.)

As much as I have the loving support of my boyfriend and friends, it was so good for me, today, to talk to my therapist about what was so hard, to hear her compassion, and to have her affirm my intention (and all that's already been brought to fruition) to live a happier, more satisfying life.

Was it all that hard

Is it all that tough

Well, I've shown you all my cards now isn't that enough

You can hide your hurt

But, there's something you can do

You can talk to me

Talk to me talk to me

When you're down

Talk to me

Tttt talk to me

For the first half hour or so, we basically chatted -- I theorized, she listened. And then she said one thing that just touched a part of me, and I started to cry. And as soon as I did, I started to feel better.

Later that afternoon, I called up my man and shared the experience with him. It was awesome to talk to him, as per usual, and we made a promise that we'd keep talking to each other:

Oh, let the walls burn down, set your secrets free

You can break their bounds, cause you're safe with me

You can lose your doubt, cause you'll find no danger here...

If It's Love

Make that two days in a row that my internal alarm clock is set to music. This morning I was awoken by another song by Train, but then landed on this one, which touches on some themes I have been exploring lately -- in my own head, with friends, with my man, and yesterday, with a stranger at a bar. (And besides, I didn't want to be the one responsible for getting the other song stuck in anyone else's head.)

Last night after a long day at work and a satisfying workout, I decided to stop at one of my favorite new restaurants for dinner rather than go home and forage in my fridge. I ate (and drank) at the bar, and ended up in a really fascinating conversation with a man sitting to my right. It started out as a conversation about movies, then Blue Valentine, a movie I really want to see that is supposed to have lots of realistic sex scenes (it's rated NC-17) and display lots of raw emotion (my favorite kind), and that led to a discussion of sex and relationships and men and women and love and marriage and sexuality and romance and attraction and monogamy...

This dude had a particularly interesting take on these topics. Married to a woman with whom he has three kids, he said he could just as easily have fallen in love with a man. He said he's sexually attracted to both (this I get) and could've gone either way. I asked whether that meant he had an open marriage, to which he replied "No. I just think that would threaten the security I feel with my wife." I reckon he's right. He seemed pretty darn content with his choice, and I guess that's what is is to some extent, a choice. I mean yeah, you've got to feel something pretty powerful to want to link your life to someone -- but what keeps it feeling like a choice you're glad you're making?

There's nothing particularly brilliant in these lyrics (who is Henry Lee?), but some of them are quite sweet, and they capture both the feeling and the decision:

But I'm afraid when I hear stories about a husband and wife

There's no happy endings, no Henry Lee

But you are the greatest thing about me

If it's love

And we decide that it's forever

No one else could do it better

Love, love

Got to have something to keep us together

Love, love

That's enough for me

Yes, love. Hugely important that it's there and that it flows equally in both directions. And then there's good old fashioned compatibility. This time around, I need a partner with an adventurous spirit:

We can travel to Spain where the rain falls

Mainly on the plain side and sing

'Cause it is we can laugh, we can sing

Have ten kids and give them everything

Hold our cell phones up in the air

And just be glad that we made it here alive

On a spinning ball in the middle of space

I love you from your toes to your face

I'm going to have to part ways with Train on this last verse, though -- I think, particularly when it's the second (or any number other than one) time around -- that it's vital to know where you've both been:

You can move in, I won't ask where you've been

'Cause everybody has a past

When we're older we'll do it all over again

And I reckon that's exactly what can keep me from having to do it all over again -- more than twice, I mean.

One Thing

Some days there are a bunch of songs that I consider blogging about, and then I actively choose one of them. Some days (though not often), I don't land on any song that resonates. And then there are days, like today, when a song comes to me -- not from my ipod but from the internal jukebox -- insistently, almost like an alarm that I didn't set and can't turn off (I can only push snooze for a temporary reprieve). This morning every time I woke -- at 4:30am, at 5:00am, at 5:45am -- this song was playing. I had a bunch of really weird dreams involving, among other things, ultrasound film of a baby, a car crash, friends I haven't seen in a long time and who aren't particularly fond of each other with bodies intertwined -- and after each of these dream/sleep sequences, I'd wake up, again, to this:

If I traded it all

If I gave it all away for one thing

Just for one thing

If I sorted it out

If I knew all about this one thing...

Which I find fascinating. I don't know when I last heard this song, but it fits right in there with the theme of Wouldn't It Be Nice, and I feel like now I have an additional insight related to what that one thing might be.

Yesterday I was having a chat with one of my favorite friends to discuss relationships with, and we were talking about how hard it is to give up on that feeling that a man is going to be the one to, as she puts it: "fill me up." (And she doesn't mean in the sense that the phrase is used in the fine film Election, at least, she's not restricting it to the sexual meaning.) She's become increasingly aware that a man -- a relationship -- being in love -- can only do a part of that. It's a little easier for me, in some ways, because I had no idea (until quite recently) I could be so filled up by loving a man. But I still, as I think we all do, sometimes put too much on my relationship, probably because 1) taking responsibility for ourselves is sometimes kind of a drag; and 2) the alternative is to admit that sometimes being alive means suffering:

Even though I know

I don't want to know

Yeah I guess I know

I just hate how it sounds

Not to mention how it feels. Ultimately, the one thing that you're trading it all for is not a (wo)man, but a decision:

To be responsible for your own happiness (which very well may involve, as it does for my friend and me, loving and being loved by a really fabulous man).

To choose to be in the moment -- in every moment that you can -- which includes the ones when the (wo)man in your life is "filling you up" and when (s)he isn't. And to be ok with that.

...Wouldn't that be something?

Better Man

I was psyched when my ipod landed on this one this morning, and not just because, as you know, my ears know no sweeter sound than the voice of Eddie Vedder. He's had a lot of looks over the years -- you can see him more significantly shorn than usual in this video which features the crowd singing along -- or view the longer locked man I'm more familiar with (and fancy more) in this video (but be forewarned -- the audio doesn't quite match the video).

I've always loved this song -- I loved it when I was single and feeling proud of holding out for a better man. I loved it during the latter part of my marriage when I identified with these lyrics:

She lies and says she's in love with him

Can't find a better man

She dreams in color, she dreams in red

Can't find a better man, can't find a better man

Ohh

Talkin', to herself there's no one else

Who needs to know

She, tells herself, oh...

Memories back when she was bold and strong

And waiting for the world to, come along

Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone

She loved him, yeah...

She don't want to leave this way

She feeds him, yeah

That's why she'll be back again

Can't find a better man...

And I love it now, as a no-longer-bitter divorcee who can see that if the person you're with doesn't feel like a great (wo)man, it isn't necessarily because (s)he isn't, but because you're not great together. Sometimes all it takes to become a better (wo)man is to fall in love with someone different, someone who more closely matches your own needs.

You can find a better (wo)man. Or be a better (wo)man. The trick is to let go enough to allow it to happen.

Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Last night my friend and I watched a seriously cheesy movie: It's Complicated. It's about, or was supposed to be about, the unresolved feelings that one often has about one's spouse after a divorce. I remember when it came out -- I suggested to my ex-husband that we see it together (the exes in the movie end up sleeping together again) -- but he didn't think that was such a good idea. When it came out on DVD, I stuck it in my Netflix queue and forgot about it until it arrived on my doorstep on Friday. I think the premise is well worth grappling over in a movie; unfortunately, no seriously grappling took place -- just a bunch of overacting, on-the-surface dialogue, and poor wardrobe choices.

Like so much of the movie, the music was overly obvious in many places, including the use of this Beach Boys classic. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when I looked up the lyrics to this song, and found that much of it mirrored the marathon conversation I'd had with my man yesterday afternoon before watching the movie:

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up

In the morning when the day is new

And after having spent the day together

Hold each other close the whole night through

Happy times together we've been spending

I wish that every kiss was neverending

Wouldn't it be nice

You know it seems the more we talk about it

It only makes it worse to live without it

But let's talk about it

Wouldn't it be nice

Yep, we do talk about it, all the time. And we both agree that the complications we've both been through in our previous relationships, along with our willingness to talk about them, makes it more likely this time that:

We could be married

And then we'd be happy

We're also smart enough to know, this time around, that in order to be happy in a marriage, both people need to be happy with themselves first -- togetherness is most definitely a happiness enhancer, but when it's the cause of the happiness, the relationship is going to be a lot more tenuous, not to mention complicated...

If It Makes You Happy

On this subzero morning with still fairly snow-covered streets, I contemplated my transportation options. I checked in to see if I could ride in with a friend that I haven't talked to nearly as much as I'd like recently, but she wasn't going to work. I almost settled on the bus, but then I remembered that I felt pretty damn miserable by the end of the day on Thursday last week (when I drove every day) and decided to ride my bike instead. When I took my kids to school, I ran into another friend who said: "Why don't you take your car? It's so cold today!" Yeah, I said, it is, but I'm happier if I ride my bike.

As I rode off from the school playground, wind in my face, I was heartened by Sheryl's voice inside my head:

If it makes you happy

It can't be that bad...

And I only fell once on my way to work this morning! Plus, it was a smarter fall (didn't land on my hip as I did the last two times).

I love the way she sings the chorus of this song. I really dig her -- she's strong -- and she can rock the glam look, the short hair, and the less-made-up long-haired-lass acoustic equally well.

The Man Who Sold the World

This one came to me last night while I was waiting to hear the Governor's speech. Such a beautiful room, in such a beautiful building, so much pomp and circumstance... It really was a sight to behold. In my mind, the lyric was "the man who ruled the world" -- and though Wisconsin's Governor doesn't rule the world, it is one of the most powerful Governorships in the country. Watching him, I knew that he could see the good things about Wisconsin, even in the midst of a blizzard, and that he wanted even more good things for the state. It isn't going to be easy -- he said as much -- but I'm hopeful that many good things are going to come out of this administration.

And what a treat it was, when I got home and looked this song up, to see the beautiful Kurt Cobain, in his fuzzy green sweater, singing this song. Love him! And I suppose David Bowie, the original artist, deserves a shout-out as well, even if he isn't quite so pretty or so cozily dressed...

Good Things

Sometimes it's a little harder than others to see the good things about living in Wisconsin. Blizzards, for me, are one of those times. The weather was so crazy cold, snowy and windy on Tuesday night I couldn't even make it home from work. I worried a little about the shape I'd find my house in the next day -- would it be buried in snow?

But I was able to see the good things -- anticipating the snow and difficult travel -- I brought my cross country skis to work. When I was unable to get home - I enjoyed a delicious meal out with colleagues and then hunkered down on the (fairly) comfy couch in my boss's office where I ended up getting, though not without interruption, 8 hours of sleep!

And when I finally did make it home, on my skis, the following afternoon, my neighbors had cleared the foot plus of snow off my front walk and my sidewalks, leaving me with only having to rake my roof and dig out my car.

I felt profoundly grateful, for all of it, including the early morning phone call from my man that I received before the blizzard began, saying he'd heard this song as he started his commute, and was reminded of the good thing(s) he had waiting for him in Wisconsin:

Sunlight fall down on the fields

Sunlight fall down over me

Work all day, be all that I can be yeah-heh

Say I can say words only simple

Say I can say words only clear

But, oh, I can feel your heart is beating near. Yeah-heh

Haunting love is all that I feel, when you're passing by

Haunting love is all that I see, it's there in your eyes

And I say

No, no, no, don't pass me over

No, no, no, don't pass me by

See I can see good things for you and I

Yeah, good things for you and I...