Sara

I'm trying to get over the fact that there's no "h" on the end of Sara in the title of this song -- I feel like that makes it a less than perfect choice for my birthday, but perfect is overrated anyway.

And with that all decided, here are the three reasons for picking this one today:

1) After a lovely birthday gathering at a local bar where I got to see many of my beloved friends, I got to go with my man and some couple friends to another friend's dance party. When the DJ realized it was my birthday, he said "Oh! I'll have to play Jefferson Starship!" which I thought was very cute. Unfortunately, there were so many enjoyable 80s songs cued up before it that I didn't end up getting to hear it, but I sure am enjoying it on youtube as I write this...

Sara, Sara, storms are brewin' in your eyes

Sara, Sara, no time is a good time for goodbyes

2) Which brings me to the second reason. When I told my boyfriend that the forecast for my birthday was stormy, he said he thought that was appropriate. "What does that mean?" I asked. He explained that he thought I had a stormy aspect of my personality, in a good way. And I could feel the goodness and the appreciation for my fire in his voice. Love that and this:

We're fire and ice, the dream won't come true...

...almost as much as I love the fact that my man and I are fire & fire, and I think our dream will come true.

3) And last but not least, I'm celebrating 40 years as SaraH today, and I'm welcoming, as I celebrate, whatever comes next, JS style:

Go now don't look back we've drawn the line

Move on it's no good to go back in time...

You Can't Always Get What You Want

When I climbed into bed tonight, I wasn't in a good frame of mind. It was a rough week, and I'd made some preparations for the evening that I thought meant it would go smoothly: I picked up the foods my kids liked, and I'd gotten a DVD from Netflix that one of them had requested. I was hoping for some joyful bonding at the dinner table followed by a snuggle on the couch together watching the movie. That's not what I got -- the food, somehow, wasn't up to par, and my daughter did NOT want her brother to watch the movie with us. I felt defeated, which isn't an easy thing to bounce back from when you're already feeling pretty depleted.

Long story short, the eve of my 40th birthday wasn't pretty in a lot of ways, and when this song came on:

You can't always get what you want (no, no baby)

You can't always get what you want

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you just might find

You just might find

You get what you need, ah yes...

I knew I hadn't gotten what I wanted, and further, I wasn't sure I'd gotten what I needed. I tried to get in touch with what was underneath the yucky feelings I was having, and unearthed some fear I was feeling about my boyfriend coming to town and meeting a bunch more of my friends. Although I wanted to take that step, my feet had some residual cement on them from the last time I felt this way and went down this road, and I realized that deep down, what I was really afraid of was being abandoned again. Like I was as a child, like I was in my marriage.

It was a big realization. It wasn't fun, but it was important to get in touch with it. In retrospect, I'm sure my kids were just responding to my own heavy energy -- and there's a much better chance that, having gotten what I needed (clarity about my feelings), I'll get what I want tomorrow on the big day...

Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle

It hasn't been a great week. There's been no breaking out of patterns, very little creative inspiration, a lot of emotional and physical fatigue, and maybe worst of all: a very quiet internal jukebox.

Upon waking this morning, I hit snooze a few times, and then woke up just enough to turn on my ipod. When this song came on, it didn't appeal to me as much in my mind or my heart as it did in my body. So I laid there, enjoying the reverberations, until something shifted and I managed to drag my ass out of bed. The ride to work was really cold this morning, colder yet on the way home in the rain, and the workday that came in between was long and unremarkable.

Checking out the lyrics tonight, I learned what Kurt was singing in the chorus:

I miss the comfort in being sad

I'm not sure what I thought he was singing, but that wasn't it. I really get his meaning. I'm also really glad that as blah as I've been feeling the last few days, it has been a long time since I've been in tune with that sentiment.

I Can't Fight This Feeling

It's a rare song for which, after a long day, a workout, and a trip to the grocery store, I'm willing to sit in my car in my driveway to listen to it when it comes on just as I'm arriving at home. But this classic REO tune met that strict scrutiny test tonight:

I can't fight this feeling any longer.

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow.

What started out as friendship,

Has grown stronger.

I only wish I had the strength to let it show.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever.

I said there is no reason for my fear.

Cause I feel so secure when we're together.

You give my life direction,

You make everything so clear.

And even as I wander,

I'm keeping you in sight.

You're a candle in the window,

On a cold, dark winter's night.

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might.

And I can't fight this feeling anymore.

I've forgotten what I started fighting for.

It's time to bring this ship into the shore,

And throw away the oars, forever...

And just for the record, I have, in fact, thrown away the oars. I was having lunch with a friend today, and telling him about my new(ish) relationship, and how as impractical as it seemed (with the distance and the timing) and as much as I felt in my mind that the right thing for us to do was to break up, it just didn't stick. "That's a really good sign," he said.

Yep. And as goofy as REO's metaphor is in some ways, I intend to enjoy life on the shore without the oars. Which to me means that I no longer need an escape hatch, and I'm really, really grateful for that. It opens up another whole realm of possibility...

Sleep Tonight

I felt a little off tonight. I left work late, no one showed up for my yoga class, and I sort of half-heartedly did some birthday shopping that I would have once been really excited about. But I didn't feel like doing much of anything, and nothing that I did do felt quite right, including the conversation with my man, though I couldn't quite put my finger on the reason why.

Eventually I climbed into bed, turned on the old ipod, and after a much-appreciated Let It Be finished up, this dreamy number followed.

Listening to it, and reading the words, I realized that what I need most right now is a night when all the love's alive:

We don't want to sleep tonight

Still young like that I count the lines

Beside your mouth that smiles now

My arms reach up as you go down

With buried heads we both forget

All of the past and its regret

Wind picks up, the window shakes

We wont hear the morning break

You will cry

And I will cry

'Cause all the love's

Alive tonight

Neighbourhoods will try to dream

While you and me we hold and lean

Onto bodies slick and charged

Together just one beating heart

All around us quiet now

We hear the leaves fall to the ground

Morning light upon our bed

An ally while I catch your breath

You will cry

And I will cry

'Cause all the love's

Alive tonight

Beautiful. Lucky for me, it's right around the corner now...

I've Never Been to Me

This weekend I had the opportunity for two road trips with two of my favorite people on the planet -- my kids. Which means that the road trip didn't involve roadies, but it did involve one of my favorite driving CDs -- the soundtrack of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

As I sang along to one of my favorites on the album, my children listened intently, giggling about the goofy lyrics:

I've been undressed by kings

And I've seen some things

That a woman ain't supposed to see

I've been to paradise

But I've never been to me

That verse, both of them got. This one, thankfully, only the 11 year old:

I've spent my life exploring

The subtle whoring

That cost too much to be free

I've been to paradise

But I've never been to me

I discouraged him from explaining it to his sister, and as they razzed me for liking the song at all, I explained that it was about a woman who was feeling like her life was incomplete because she'd never had children. And I told them, as I often do, how grateful I am to be their mother.

Until very recently, I'd been feeling like I wanted to have another baby, in order to experience the family unity I didn't get to experience as a child myself or with my kids' father. Who knows? I may still have another baby, but if I do, it won't be to try to rewrite the past. And no matter what happens, I am going to continue to enjoy the children I already have, along with their evolving awarenesses...

Miss World

You know you're not waking up in a great frame of mind when Hole is the music playing on your internal alarm clock -- at least, that's not a good sign for me -- especially when it wakes me up earlier than I want to be up.

I remember the time in my life when I loved this album and it was characterized by a pretty high degree of self loathing, as is evident in these lyrics I used to be so fond of screaming:

I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, so sick I cannot try

And I am the one you want, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl, you know I lie, I lie and lie

I'm mostly not that girl anymore. I don't have trouble looking people in the eye and thanks to many, many modes of healing, I'm definitely not so sick I cannot try.

But I'm still struck by how I can be sent reeling (even temporarily) by being told I'm somehow not meeting expectations, whether in my personal or professional life. It's a good reminder that I need to set my own expectations for myself and mostly measure myself against them, but I also want to remember that it's ok to have room to grow, and I don't need to shut down when such an opportunity has been identified. Not now that I'm well enough to try...