I’d like to share a video of my performance last night of my latest song “I’d Like to Win a Grammy for Best New Artist.” I’d like to, but I didn’t manage to record one.
I’d like to say that people in the audience enjoyed my performance as much as I did, but I honestly couldn’t tell.
I’d like to tell you why I think “I’d Like to Win a Grammy for Best New Artist” is a better title than “I Want to Win a Grammy for Best New Artist” but I can’t seem to put that into words.
I’d like to make sure that everyone (including me) has fun when I give a concert of my original songs in June, and I’m working on that.
I’d like to donate the proceeds from that concert to Samaritans, the suicide hotline where I first found out that I’d like to change my career from marketing writer to psychotherapist.
I’d like to keep writing these blog posts until my last day on earth and we’ll see how that works out.
I’d like to share lots of great images today, but these are the only ones I have.
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I’d like to plan my epitaph on Plan Your Epitaph Day — how about “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be”?
Here’s the not-so-great recording of “I’d Like to Win a Grammy for Best New Artist” on YouTube, which I’ve shared on this blog before.
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I’d like to thank everyone I appreciate in my life, including YOU!
One person expressed his thinking to me immediately after my performance, “That was a very precocious song.”
I expressed my thinking with this reply: “How can somebody of my age be precocious?”
He didn’t answer that question, so I have no idea what he was thinking about that. Instead, he asked if I was a teacher and said, “That was very brave.”
As I say in my song, “What are other people thinking about you? Face it, we can never know for sure. So why not think they’re thinking that you’re gorgeous, talented, smart, and secure?”
What are you thinking about that and about this photo from yesterday?
I’m thinking that my little yellow car is okay, because it started up fine all day. I don’t know what it was thinking when it refused to start up the night before.
I don’t know what my laptop and my iPhone are thinking, as they selectively share the photos I’m taking. I’m thinking it takes more work to get all my photos here these days, but it’s worth it. Here are more photos from yesterday:
I don’t know what that dog is thinking but I’m thinking that I love that sticker.
What are you thinking about this blog post?
I’m thinking that it’s time to express my gratitude to everybody who helps me create this daily blog, including YOU.
We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, which is
on earth,
at my blog,
accepting,
close enough to water,
breathing,
alive,
growing,
searching,
here,
now, and
looking at these pictures together.
We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. We’re at that point in my daily post where I share some music.
Last night, when I was exactly where I was supposed to be, I heard a wonderful orchestral piece on Boston’s classical radio station.
That’s Debussy‘s La Mer(The Sea). The sea is exactly where I’m supposed to be today, looking at a home by the ocean.
We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. We’re at the end of today’s post, where I express thanks to all who help me create this blog and to you — of course! — who are exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Lots of things unbore me, including visits to local book stores, where I saw this yesterday:
Do you see that book “Unbored” on the shelf of the Arlington bookstore The Book Rack?
I took many more photos yesterday, as I was unbored by:
Arlington, Massachusetts, USA,
my son appearing in the Arlington Children’s Theater’s production of the musical Anything Goes, and
Louis C.K. and three other comics making me, my son, and thousands of other people laugh at the MassMutual Center in Springfield, Massachusetts.
Are you particularly unbored by any of my other photos from yesterday (presented in unbored chronological order)?
Here are more things I’ve been unbored by in the past 24 hours:
learning that my favorite restaurant in Arlington, Massachusetts — The Madrona Tree — has lost its lease because of rent increases,
finding my favorite Arlington boutique — The Artful Heart — in a different location because of rent increases by the same landlord,
torrential rain storms on our drive to Springfield Massachusetts, causing multiple accidents which turned the 100-minute drive into a 160-minute drive,
the saltiest popcorn I’ve ever tasted, when I’m on a low salt diet,
ants swarming all over a pizza,
my laptop, during an iTunes update, telling me my phone needed to be restored to factory settings (which would mean losing everything stored on my phone),
my homepage totally changing because of software I downloaded in an attempt to get my iPhone unstuck from update mode without losing all my data,
recovering my home page, and
recovering my iPhone without losing any data.
Here’s another unboring moment from last week: a representative of my health insurance company told me that my September 21 surgery to mend my heart at the Mayo Clinic would not be covered because of “lack of medical necessity.” This unboring statement turned out to be untrue.
Sometime, I wish I was less unbored.
I hope you are unbored by this song, inspired by one of my unbored photos above:
I hope you are also unbored by my sincere thanks to all those who helped me created this post and to you — of course! — for visiting today.
… and I thought it said “Lift.” Today, I’m not sure if it says “Lift” or Life.”
Does it matter what the sign says?
In my therapy groups, sometimes we decide that what’s out there doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you see it and what you do with it.
No matter what that sign says to you, I can still ask if you see it (lift and/or life) in any of my other photos today.
Speaking of life’s lifts, as I was lifting those photos into this post, I heard that the amazing Jackie — who always put a lift into my life (and whose leave-taking obviously affected this previous post) — is coming back to work after leaving a year ago. That definitely gives me a lively lift, here and now.
What gives your life a lift?
Here’s a post ending I lifted from my life yesterday:
When I met my dear friend Barbara yesterday for (1) brunch at Arlington’s Madrona Tree Restaurant, (2) a visit to the store next door, calledThe Artful Heart, and (3) a walk to Arlington’s Spy Pond, Barbara suggested that I title today’s post
That stinks!
Barbara didn’t suggest that because anything smelled bad at Madrona Tree, The Artful Heart, or on our walk. She didn’t say
That stinks!
in response to any of the many topics we discussed yesterday, including
work,
health,
friends, or
my son’s applying to college.
Barbara didn’t say
That stinks!
as I was taking any of these photos when I was with her, yesterday.
Barbara also didn’t say “That stinks!” when I said, “There’s two of my angels!” when I was taking this photo:
Barbara said
That stinks!
when she sat inside my spankin’ new yellow car and agreed with me that the interior smelled slightly of skunk.
What do I think stinks, this morning, as I’m creating this post?
It’s cold and rainy outside.
I don’t know how long the smell of skunk will stay in my car.
Fellow blogger Irene just commented on my previous post that my blog never appears in her reader any more.
Photos are still not migrating from my iPhone to my laptop, so that creates extra steps whenever I create a post.
What does NOT stink, this morning?
I bought a cool new scarf at the Artful Heart, to help keep me warm.
I have wonderful friends like Barbara nearby and Irene on WordPress.
My son is much further along in his college application process because of a meeting he, his father, and I had yesterday.
I finished writing the Parent Brag Sheet yesterday, so my son can give that to his teachers who are writing his college recommendations.
I’m going to see one of my favorite classical music radio shows, today, From the Top.
Does it stink that I’m rushing through this ending paragraph of gratitude by simply saying “Thanks!” to all those who helped me create this post and “More thanks!” to all of you who are reading it?
However, it’s difficult for me to recover from cardiac surgery AND put in a full week at work AND be a good-enough mother and girlfriend, all at the same time. As a result, I’ve been more difficult than usual lately.
So, I had this difficult thought:
Because of my recent surgery, I now have a terrific excuse to be difficult. So why not seize the moment and write a difficult post?
Look, I get a lot of praise at WordPress for my positive attitude. But, I can be as difficult and negative as anybody else, sometimes.
Here’s the most difficult thing that has ever happened to me:
When I was 10 years old, medical treaters of my congenital heart condition suddenly decided that — in order to save my life — they needed to implant a cardiac pacemaker. To make this more difficult, nobody prepared me for how difficult the surgery was going to be or for how much the pacemaker was going to stick out of my body. To make this more difficult, the first person to change my surgical dressing lied to me about the pacemaker sticking out when I asked her about it (she said, “That’s just your hip, swollen from the surgery.”) To make things more difficult, nobody dealt with that lie, for several days. To make things more difficult, my family and friends could not visit me in the hospital — outside of the difficultly limited visiting hours — during the many long days I stayed in the hospital after the surgery. To make things even more difficult, that surgery took place on November 22 1963, the day John F. Kennedy was killed, and nobody told me about that, either.
One reason I am so focused on this most difficult memory from my past, right now: as I am healing from the surgery where I got a pacemaker/defibrillator 13 days ago, I am finally realizing how BIG this device is. At this point, I’m thinking it might be even larger than that first pacemaker I got, more than 50 years ago.
Here’s what makes it MUCH less difficult for me to deal with getting a large medical device today (compared to when I was a child of 10):
I was warned it would be large.
Because of my access to the Internet, I can find out, after I post this, the exact dimensions of my new device.
If the actual size of the device is smaller than it seems to be in my body, I can let my doctors know about the amount of post-operative swelling I’m experiencing, and
I am an adult now, with adult coping strategies, not a small, vulnerable, scared, and hurting 10 year old, dealing with all of this alone.
Not to be too difficult, but my writing about those most difficult memories from my past was not my original difficult intention for today’s Difficult post.
Instead, my difficult plan was to share with you difficult things people have said directly to my face — without too much apparent difficulty — over the years.
Yes, at some point in my long and sometimes difficult life, some actual human being has said to me, “Ann, you are:
messy
clumsy
stinky
not smart enough
too smart
too skinny
not skinny enough
selfish
clumsy
disrespectful
too shy
too much of a bother
foolish
disappointing
too much of a show-off
not funny enough to be a stand-up comic
disorganized
too quiet
too loud
too outspoken
too sensitive
not humble enough
not athletic enough
too competitive
not a good hugger
too indiscriminately loving
not loving enough
too sexy
not sexy enough
inappropriate
too much to handle
not good looking enough to reject ME
too spontaneous
provincial
not supportive enough
too fucking supportive
crazy
thoughtless
too concerned about other people’s feelings
unsophisticated
impatient
too warm
too cold
insecure
pushy
too cautious
not cautious enough
not worth my time
spacey
not a good enough singer
not a good enough writer
not a good enough photographer
too focused on yourself
too focused on others, and
weird.”*
Hmmmmm. That wasn’t difficult, at all, for me to create that difficult list today, probably because I carry those negative words around with me.
As I’ve often written in this difficult daily blog, the negative can stick with people, drowning out the positive.
Imagine how less difficult all our lives could be, if we let go of difficult and unhelpful messages from others!
To promote that in myself, I will now present all the difficult and non-difficult photographs I took yesterday, as I spent some time with my amazingly non-difficult 17-year-old son:
I took those last three photos, above, because that was a particularly difficult parking meter, for everybody.
After my second difficult encounter with that difficult Arlington Massachusetts parking meter yesterday, I did the difficult thing of striking up a conversation with a total stranger, simply because I liked his t-shirt and his cap:
That’s Mike, who told me he saw the band Cake in Chicago, even though he doesn’t live there. When Mike asked me, “Did you want to take my picture because you like cake or the band Cake?” it wasn’t difficult for me to admit the truth.
Would it be difficult for you to guess what my truth was, about that?
Speaking of difficult guessing, the next photo shows the movie I have found the most difficult to watch, of all the difficult movies I’ve ever seen:
Any difficult guesses about that?
I hope I’m not being too difficult if I ask one more difficult question: What difficult music did I choose for this difficult post?
That’s Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3, well known as perhaps the most difficult piano piece ever written. I assume it might be difficult for you to take the time to listen to the whole difficult thing.
So, what did YOU find most difficult about this post?
Easy and difficult thanks to all those who contributed to my creating today’s difficult post. Also, special thanks to you, for experiencing whatever personal difficulties you did, to read it.
* In case understanding that giant list is difficult, I want to be clear about this: Those difficult things were said directly to my face by many different people, over the course of my life. Honestly, I don’t think any one person I’ve met could actually be THAT difficult.
