time distortion

Sitting at her computer, she looks at the invitation and wonders where all the time went. She wonders about hearing from someone after such a long time. It seems like forever, especially when she thinks about how, back then, not a day would go by that they didn't see each other or at least speak endlessly on the phone. She wonders where she's been, what she's been doing, if they even know each other any more. She sits in silence, remembering the good times they had, wondering if it would all come flooding back or if they would turn out to be strangers after so much time passing.

She sighs and hits reply, thinking "why not?" ...after all it had only been a couple of weeks.

water

She grew up around water. Never having lived more than a few minutes from the seashore, the ocean was the place she felt the most at ease. As though the rhythm of the tide could wash away any troubles she had, pulling them out into the clear blue with each crested wave. She could swim before she could walk - that's what they said. She paddled around the pool like a playful otter when she was little and then sleek and swift like a dolphin as she got older. Nothing gave her more comfort than being immersed in the cold water of that bay - her bay - so cold it hurt sometimes, making her skin tingle into numbness and her teeth chatter through her blue lips.

So it was ironic, you see, that this was how she would die. That the liquid she could sink into for hours on end had somehow turned against her. As the fluid accumulated in her lungs she tried to comfort herself with the idea that drowning should be an ideal way to go for someone who spent so much time in the water; it should be comforting somehow.

But it wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be floating, swimming, smelling salt air. Her lungs were not supposed to be filling with fluid here, in this dry room as she lay in this bed, the machines trying to force air into her lungs. She wasn't supposed to feel herself becoming less and less able to breath. If she had to drown, and that's what was happening, why couldn't it be out there in the ocean, floating.

And suddenly she found herself there. The cool water surrounded her as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She smiled as she settled onto her back floating and then sinking. And as the water closed over her head she was no longer afraid. This was home.

The people clustered around the bed wondered at the sudden peace on her face as she breathed her last shallow breathes and then breathed no more.

disheartening, disheartened

Some days I really have a difficult time liking people. Not individuals so much as people in general. The entity that is people.

I have a job in which a large part of my work involves the recruitment and coordination of volunteers. And so I need to put my best, most positive face on and really sell what we're doing; in some way I need to make people want to help out. Even on my worst days, I have to make it seem like it's worth their while to help. And most of the time I think I do an ok job. Pretty good in fact. I've always been pretty good at rallying the troops, so to speak. I have a number of people who work very hard for me and I am very thankful to them for all the work that they do.

But then there are days like today. Days where I am rallying troops for something not even I want to do... so that, in itself, makes it harder. And then, at the last minute... not one, not two, but four (4!!) people call to cancel. Within hours of the event.

And suddenly I feel not only resentful towards the individuals who have bailed but also completely bad at my job. Bad.

It's hard when you are not completely the authour of your own fate... you know?

more...

I worked the merch table at a really great show the other night. And while the headiner was playing this young guy came up to the table, extremely excited about the band and bought the CD. Now honestly, it was like this kid had discovered electricity! He was so pumped to see and hear something new, so thrilled to be "in the know" about this band.

The band is a three piece, one guy on guitar, one on drums (with a suitcase for the bass drum), and one rotating through a number of stringed instruments - guitar, banjo, ukelele... and singing. From their website: "... call their music Death Country – dark, gritty folk music built around whiskey-drenched vocals and lyrics evoking images of love, loss and murder. In their soul-thumping bluegrass songs, banjo keeps time to a strange and chunky angular stomp, with vicious Kentucky-hardcore acoustic guitar and somber, achingly confessional vocal harmonies."

Bluegrass. Like electricity, it's been around for awhile. And while these guys are definitely darker and have a harder edge than traditional bluegrass... they are undeniably bluegrass.

And please don't get me wrong - I think it's great that this guy was so excited about this band. I think this band is well worth getting excited about. And I was, in fact, really happy over the idea that someone would get that excited about this band as though they were something brand new (and they are definitely something that hasn't been done in quite this way, at least in this neck of the woods, or quite this well, in a very long time). And I hope this opens a new musical door for that guy. I hope he ends up with a whole new world of music to listen to.

I am not in anyway diminishing his experience. It was just really interesting to watch and think about since I was already reflecting on some of these ideas.

I "discovered" Fado music in much the same way two years ago. Fado is a type of Portugese folk music - mostly sea songs, laments about people lost at sea, love put on hold for a sea voyage, that sort of thing.. but it is the style and emotion and passion of the singer that is the most important element. I knew nothing of this music type, nothing of the virtually never-ending history of the traditions behind it. I just knew that this beautiful music moved me and that I had to hear more.

Maybe that's all I needed to know.