'fessin' up

It's a very good thing I have an exciting music project in my life right now; that's making it much easier to remain patient while waiting for pregnancy and motherhood. It has occured to me, and also to a very smart friend, that one of the reasons for the delay in that department, speaking in big-picture terms, may be that I would not have been able to participate in this opportunity if I were hugely pregnant or giving birth around now. If my last pregnancy went to term, there'd have been no electric guitar-learning, no rocking out, no dream-band dream-come-true for mommy. That stuff may not be as big as parenthood, but this experience is causing seismic shifts in my experience of myself as a musician and creative person, and I can certainly see the benefits of the preparenthood timing of it all.

I've also been coming to terms with the idea that I haven't worked as hard as I've intended on improving my lifestyle and habits while I wait. Well, maybe working harder at it is not what's called for. Working smarter? Perhaps. All I know is that there are things I want and need to let go of, and things I want and need to embrace, and that the delay might also be partly related to my not having made these choices yet. For instance, self-harm has really GOT to GO. It barely serves any function at all anymore. Sure, it's fairly reliable as an emotion attenuator, but I am aware of effective options now, and I swear I've continued in the old path only to avoid the unfamiliarity of the new. I mean, come on. I do it just because it's what I've always done? I can do better than that. My life allows me many choices if I'm in need of soothing and/or winding down. I must confess and own my growing awareness of my readiness to stop. It's time.

As for things to embrace, structure comes to mind... the kind that liberates energy rather than letting it waste away. Here's an idea, a metaphor: I want to go swimming, so I've got the hose running. And I could let it run as long as it would need to to fill up the pool, but if I haven't built the pool to contain the water, all I'll have is a soggy lawn. And even with all that water, I'll still be wanting a swim. I think getting out of bed at a predetermined time and then going about a routine would help keep me from glazing over at the computer for hours, procrastinating on housework and cooking and not even going near an instrument, a book or an art supply. I know from past experiments with structured time that I'm much more likely to work on creative projects when I'm tending to my basic self-care and responsibilities first, rather than avoiding them. I don't know why I don't procrastinate planning dinner by playing my banjo or reading rather than by playing Shanghai and "thinking." If I did that, I wouldn't necessarily feel a need to change the pattern. But as it is, well, I know I'm wasting time. When I left the work force 13 months ago, I really needed a rest. But now it's time to get a bit more active again. I can feel it.

*sigh*

It's not like I do nothing. Yesterday I took my dear one, the one who needs the support, to an A.A. meeting. I did the week's grocery shopping. I made a mix for a friend. Today is laundry day. I've also done some budgeting and bill paying, and--look!--I wrote a post. The plan for later is to cut my hair, a time-consuming project that I almost always procrastinate on for way too long. If I do it, that'll be big, and this day will officially have been productive. But come on. I can't think of a reason I couldn't have worked out and then gotten dressed first. I hate feeling like I'd be mortified if the UPS guy came, let alone an unannounced friend. Unscheduled PJ days have GOT to GO.

It's time.

*SIGH*

nothing of interest, plus chocolate

Hmmm. Some randomness, I guess:

We had my cousin and her husband and three kids (ages 8 - 11) over for Sunday dinner today--very fun. We kept it simple: lasagna (with homemade turkey sausage sauce, and lots of spinach), salad and bread. I also made my famous chocolate torte, which everyone loved as usual. So glad I found that recipe. I'm quite sure that if I was in the market for a mate, this dessert would be my secret weapon. As it is, I'm just drawing all my dear ones even closer in with it, which is also nice. I love feeding special homemade things, particularly chocolate special things, to loved ones. Ahhh.

Come to think of it, it's really only been in the past year, since I stopped working, that I've learned to make anything like a chocolate torte, or been able to whip up a batch of fuss-free homemade sauce. Entertaining so large a cluster of company at all might have been a bit of a stretch in the bad old days, too, so much so that I don't think I'd have attempted it. Or enjoyed it if I had. So yay, yay,YAY, not working! It's really good for me. How cool that my man is okay with our tight budget, that he understands how much happier I am, that he's happier this way, too. Ahh again.

Another rock show is in the process of being booked. It'll be either in late February or early March, and whenever it is, I can't hardly wait. Seriously.

Along those lines, I had occasion to make a mix of songs by the band I'm playing with as a gift for my brother-in-law this weekend. Have I mentioned that I love this friggin' band? OY. Their songs turn up on every other mix I make; they are generally over-represented. But I've never made an unadulterated, you know, fest. Well, now I have, and I can see why I (unconsciously) put it off: It's too good. IT'S TOO GOOD. It hurts a little. I think I'll try this with my other favorite artist, the only other one who consistently kills me like this. iTunes is a beautiful thing!

Also along those lines, I'm pretty sure almost everyone I know will be at the big anniversary show this spring. As in (in addition to all our local friends), both my parents and their spouses, my eighty-four-year-old grandmother, and my brother and his wife, who will have to take an airplane to get there. Whoah. Well, that's how it looks at the moment, anyway. We'll see how much I end up with to do in the acoustic set. I can't see Gram (or Dad or Mom, for that matter) enjoying the rock set very much. These guys are rather fond of feedback, to an extent that can be a bit much even for me. Though I sure do love the double distortion pedals...

Still no pictures or video, but I think I'll have something eventually.

I really need to get back to writing pages, and playing my instruments more. And walking outside. (Sound familiar, AW folk?) My ACIM practice is going great, but it helps so freakin' much that I coast on other helpful practices just to keep things manageable. Or that's what I think I'm doing, anyway. And it's time to see what would happen if I reincorporate more helpful activities. (((biting nails)))

Thanks to the commenters on the last post. Leah, if you're there, I think I'll take you up on your very generous book lending offer. I have a good feeling about it. (Heh.) I'll be in touch.

Because I love you, internet:

Chocolate -Sexual Reference Here- Torte

Ingredients:

12 ounces (1 bag) semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
6 eggs

[If you really want to party, you can make whipped cream topping as well: Use a cup or so of heavy cream (not "whipping cream," as it is full of crap such as artificial thickeners), a little vanilla extract and a spoonful or so of maple syrup. Whip.]

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350. Line the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie plate very smoothly with aluminum foil. Lower your standards and spray the foil liner with cooking spray.

Melt the chocolate and butter in the microwave, on a reduced power setting, stirring with a whisk until completely melted. (I find I only need to pause once for stirring mid-melt.) Set aside.

[Optional: Take the weird little hard white squiggly things off the egg yolks with your fingers and a teaspoon. They are weird and squiggly, and, though edible, they will remain unattractively unincorporated into the chocolatey goodness if left in the eggs.] Beat the eggs and stir them into the melted chocolate mixture. Use the whisk for maximum smoothness, but don't whip the mixture--just stir thoroughly. Pour the chocolate mixture into the foil-lined, chemical-lubed pan, cover with foil, and set it in a heavy roasting pan. Pour hot tap water into the roasting pan halfway up the sides of the pie pan (to create a bain-marie--now you're cooking in French!) and place it in the preheated oven for 30 to 35 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven, being careful not to scald yourself but drenching your potholders regardless, and uncover the torte.

The torte will be a soft batter that will solidify when cold. Let it cool to room temperature on a wire rack, then cover it right on its surface with plastic wrap. Put it in the freezer for at least 2 hours. Take it out, turn it upside down on a plate and peel off the foil while it's still frozen, then let it thaw for a bit--around forty-five minutes, but maybe not even that long if it was only in the freezer for the minimum two hours. (Apparently you can freeze the well-wrapped torte for up to 3 months before thawing and enjoying, but I sure don't know anyone with that kind of restraint.)

When ready to serve, put on some lipstick and your hottest boots, then cut the still cold or even frozen torte with a hot, wet non-serrated knife. (Clean the knife in hot water after each cut.) In case of hardcore partying, slather on whipped cream topping. (On the slices of torte.) (Ahem.)

You can also make this for a potluck--it travels great in the thawing stage. And you will make new friends and admirers. (Best to skip the lipstick and boots if you're not, you know, available...)

woo-woo pride

Sometimes the things I'm thinking about just aren't what I feel comfortable blabbing about. But sometimes I blab anyway. Maybe this is one of those times.

I exchanged the books my dad bought for us at Christmas for some things I'll actually read. (G got the whole mall gift card for a video game he reeeeally wanted, so I get all the book money. Fine with me.) I picked up two new copies of "God Calling," one for some friends and one to replace the copy I beat to death over the past year by reading and contemplating it in the tub. (I LOVE that book. So helpful.) I picked up Anne Lamott's "Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith," because I have a feeling I will want to own the book that contains this amazingly tender and insightful, hilarious author's thoughts on God. I picked up a weekly planner, which I will actually be using as a diary of the brief-and-to-the-point variety. (Helpful for tracking reproductive cycles and guaging general productivity.) And I bought a book called "Phenomenon" by a psychic called Sylvia Browne. :: sigh :: It's an alphabetical guide to the paranormal. There are sections on fairies, devas, angels, covens... phrenology. She's got great one-sentence, God-centered summaries of the Major Arcana of the Tarot, but the dear also believes that Atlantis will rise back into existence in this century. Wacky, no? And yet...

Some of this stuff just hits me so hard. And I admit: I feel conflicted about it all. Seriously. The section on telepathy made me have to put the book down and weep--like, screaming (no one else home)--for several minutes. This is me, I thought. This is what happens to me. Here it is. Yet even just having the cashier at the book store ring me up felt like potentially subjecting myself to condemnation, albeit silent: Yep, I'm one of them. I read this stuff. God and psychic phenomenon: I believe it. Yep.

Okay, so I'm what is called psychic. (I just know things, especially about people but sometimes about... other things.) Okay, so there's a Voice in my head. I'm pretty open about this stuff. I'm more than happy to do intuitive readings for others; I do this professionally, though on a somewhat intermittent basis as I do not advertise. But I also hang out with hyper-smart, hyper-educated people, and I can sometimes feel self-conscious about all of this.

It's not because I think my smartypants friends themselves will judge me. They're my friends, and this is a rather prominent and salient aspect of who I am. In close relationships, it all makes sense and I'm comfortable. Besides, my friends are mostly either very spiritual, religious, or woo-woo friendly themselves. (Thanks, Ms. Browne, for the charming new self-deprecating term woo-woo people.) Still, with the inner conflict.

Basically, I do not run around with a crowd of woo-woos like me. I worked in a natural foods market throughout the New Age nineties, and though I happily cherry-picked ideas that worked for me, I saw the whole thing done to death, and I distanced myself from the scene. In fact, I don't think I know very many people now who would buy, let alone read, let alone cry over a book like Ms. Browne's. And come to think of it, some religious friends seem a bit iffy on the phenomenon, and some of the woo-woo leaning are not so sure about God. So I'm surrounded by reminders that who I am is, well, weird. Different and slightly suspect, anyway.

And I just want it all to make sense to everyone! I wish every heart resonated with joyful recognition when reading about how sometimes whole chunks of knowledge or the fully articulated sense of an experience one didn't have will be just deposited in one's head from time to time, or how beings connected on the level of spirit do not need to speak in order to have a conversation. I want every religious person to understand and accept with an open heart that what I hear comes from God, in the same way all our other gifts do. And I do what I do for God! There is absolutely nothing evil about any of this, in my experience. And how 'bout it, rigid intellectuals: Are you ready to stop resisting the obvious and at least accept that intelligent people are often also fully faithful to a Higher Power? That we are not all crazy and/or stupid?

But why do I care at all, even in an abstact way, about what others may think about what resonates for me? Yes, I think we'd all be happier if we were all listening to our Voices. But I know this conflicted feeling boils down to me not yet being fully comfortable with who I am in the world.

Well, I'm very grateful to Ms. Browne for reminding me of these very real aspects of myself, and of their worth. I don't agree with her about Atlantis, but, hey, we'll both be gone by the time her prediction comes true or doesn't, so there's no need to quibble. I bought her book because when I picked it up I felt a surge of energy that said, yes. The telepathy section alone was worth the full retail price. I got the yes feeling when reading her take on angels, too, even though I'm not so sure about her literal take on the details. I'll keep reading. I need more yes. We all do. I'll take it wherever I find it. And I'll leave the rest.

state of grace/overwhelm

Well, the show last Friday went... perfectly. We got to the club a bit early (after a two hour drive) and had to do a bit of standing around, but this also meant that we managed to score a legal parking space right by the entrance--no small feat in Cambridge, Mass., and cause for much rejoicing. Things just sort of fell into place from there. The sound guy and the other bands (six in total - it was the record label's ten year anniversary party) were all friendly, cooperative and generally cool. The sound check went fine--the club was boomy but we could hear ourselves. We took a nice walk after, ate snacks and drank chai. An old friend met me at the club when we got back. His excellent seventeen year-old daughter and her boyfriend stopped by, too. She unfortunately couldn't stay because the show was eighteen-plus (grrr), but she brought a mix she'd made for me of songs which incorporate a particular chord change for which she, I and her dad all share a very strong, very unusual affinity. It was a lovely gift. There was free homemade Korean food at the club, as part of the celebration. Can you even stand it? And as the time to play drew nigh, the crowd became more and more liberally peppered with good friends, loved ones and devoted fans.

I was calm generally; it helped a lot that G was there to help me in case of emergency. This was my first rock show! I understood that all sorts of things could go wrong: with instruments, effects, cables, amps, miscommunications... As I had no previous direct experience with that sort of thing, I'd just have to deal if something came up. But nothing did, to speak of. I adjusted my amp volume mid-song when I heard unwanted feedback. And I almost came in singing in the wrong spot once, but caught myself immediately. That was it for snafus, if they even qualify. On the plus side, the audience loved our set and responded with generous enthusiasm. The music gelled nicely; everything clicked. I could hear myself, so I sang in tune. One thing flowed smoothly into another. There was a little gaggle of dear ones standing right in front and in direct line of sight, singing along, rocking out and cheering wildly. I had taped a spare pick to my electric guitar in case of droppage (ain't that just the cutest thing?), but I didn't even have to use it. And I was singing with my favorite friggin' band. It was great.

After the show, fans made a point of approaching me to say "great show." These were folks who knew I was new to the lineup. One, a dude I recognized just by virtue of his being as big a fan as I am and being at many of the same shows I'd attended, went out of his way to gush about specific things I brought to the mix. The gaggle of dear ones from the front row had decided that I had been "The calm at the eye of the storm" up there, ..."a calm, strong presence, bathed in light." Wow! G was getting the love, too. He has a fantastic, rockin' yet solid stage presence; he's a blast to watch, and many friends and fans couldn't say enough about that. The head of the record label gave me a big hug and said I was amazing. Actually, he then went on to say he couldn't believe I'd even gone on stage "in these circumstances," which I felt funny about because I knew I'd been outed as a newbie, but T (formerly referred to here as 'R', the lead dude) made a point of explaining after we left that a moment before I had walked up and gotten that hug, the guy had been raving about what assets G and I were. Only then was it mentioned that this was my first show, and that I had basically learned the electric guitar so I could do it. "It only adds to the mystique," he said. Mystique! Gotta love that.

So. Huzzah. Wish I had a picture to show you. Will post something if any are passed along. And I hope something else is scheduled soon. This rock thing is rather fun, I have to say.

There was a party with many of the same folks to attend the next night, which was lovely. But I began to become aware that I needed down time soon. The morning after the party, yesterday, I took someone close to me to an A.A. meeting. This is something I've been doing to support her for the past month or so, once a week, but I swear I get as much out of going as she does, if not more. Yesterday's topic was spirituality, and I cried nearly continually (as inconspicuously as possible) as one excellent, beautiful person after another shared their ideas about how they had been helped by God (as they understood God). I was blown away. One girl told of how she had woken up once on the bank of a river with two homeless guys after passing out in a drug and alcohol haze, and she realized that in that state and in that place, anything could have happened to her. But these two men had watched over her. As she came to, they reassured her that all was well and that she was safe, and they offered her some soup. Beautiful. It all got me thinking about what Jesus said about the meek, about how doing good to anyone was as doing good to him, about entertaining angels unawares. There is spiritual light and beauty out there, and it is everywhere.

So by yesterday afternoon (when I had a sing and a singing community business meeting to attend) I'd gotten back into the good ol' mode of spritually porous mushiness, so sensitive, receptive, and emotionally filled up that I could barely function. I started to shut down; my communication became edgy and inadvertantly intense. I really must learn to manage overstimulation. Hey! A thought: I refer to that state to friends by saying I'm "full." Maybe what I need to do to manage it is to empty out a bit, by giving some away! I tend to want to shut down and curl up alone, but maybe if I instead made an effort to share and give to others at those times rather than pushing them away, I'd find my balance. Hmm. I hope I remember to try this next time.

Last night, I used isolation, french fries and formulaic cop show repeats to fix me up. And it worked fine. So. Life's good.