The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.
When I Have a 50th Birthday in July, God Willing, I Might Host a Celebration
When I turned 35, I hosted a party in our backyard and haven't hosted a birthday party since then, as my wife Pat never wanted one for any of her big birthdays. It seems appropriate to celebrate this upcoming milestone, which I hope, God willing, to be healthy for.
Right now, I'm having some scary health challenges, where I might have nothing wrong, or I might, God forbid, have cancer in my cervix, my endometrium and my breasts, and I won't know more until mid-December, so I keep trying to distract myself with work and Pat and cultural things like plays, the Rockettes and TV. Note added on December 29th and then again later: Am out of the woods, that is, the polyps in my cervix and endometrium are no longer there and they are benign. And had a breast aspirated in mid-January and that turned out fine, too, thank God.
Yesterday morning, I thought, if I'm healthy, I must host a party for my 50th this summer, and if so, I want it to feature music that would keep me dancing practically the entire time. And I hope that most of the people I'd invite would be willing to do a lot of dancing, too.
If I do host a party, I want to blast these tunes from our back deck and have family and friends spill out beyond the deck into the yard for dancing:
A few songs from my earliest years:
The rest are faves from my older sisters' records and then what I loved from the radio:
Showing posts with label music as therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music as therapy. Show all posts
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Buoyant Blues
The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.
Escaping, Through Music, But Not Really
Starting at 1:40, which is probably where it always began when DJs played it on WBLS-FM, the song almost makes me forget my grief. Almost:
It's a great time when songs like this are playing on the radio -- my dad's employed again and I'm learning Disco and Ballroom dancing from David Jones in my hometown, Stamford, Connecticut, so that I feel like I belong at the 11 Bar Mitzvahs and six Bat Mitzvahs I attend between 1977 and '78.
This song comes a year later, but it's the sort we Hustled to at all of the Bar and Bat Mitzvah receptions, and I miss it today. Who knew then that five years later, my dad (z"l) would be dead of common bile-duct cancer?
This next song...
...also gets good about 30 seconds in and almost makes me pound away the blues of my pastoral session from earlier today. A Rabbinical Intern at our shul, wants to know what God would say to me after I ask, "When can I just fall apart?"
"Never," God says, I tell her. He says, "Keep going. It won't serve you to fall apart."
At ~1:20 in, God might as well say:
Or He could be as Kind as a number of the Psalms and pledge:
The Rabbinical Intern tells me, "Let's look at Psalm Chaf Zayin. Keep reading."
I read aloud, "For my father and my mother [in that order] have left me; but the Lord will take me up."
"Do you believe that you can let God into your life to help you?" The Rabbinical Intern asks me and I'm almost embarrassed at her revival-style inquiry.
"I *can*, yes, but will I?" I say, barely aloud.
Last night on Twitter, a former Modern Orthodox Jewish day schoolmate and I had an exchange of tweets around an article that compared and contrasted coming out as Atheist to coming out as lesbian, gay, bi or trans. He's an Atheist and one of only three friends of mine who identifies as Atheist...that I know of. He's definitely not:
Didn't God give me this great music for dancing, escaping, wanting to live, for hope and joy, even in the midst of my sadness and fury?
Can't I shut my eyes right now, even as I'm typing and be transported through the furniture from *The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe*? Dancing the whole way! God, for a moment, I've become even younger than Bat Mitzvah age.
Now, back to the present, where I feel very alone. Indeed, Pat is not home right now, but even with Phoebe, the kitty, here in her plush bucket-bed next to me on the floor, I'm just by myself, except for my Disco and Funk friends:
What if I could time-travel and heed the eventual call of this video to go to Barbados for a weekend in 2010, for three days and nights of "Pure Rare Grooves"? There's no such thing as a geographic cure, they say, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to escape my mourning. I am parentless. I am childless. Who will mourn for me? Ok, that was melodramatic.
Ever since I went to a '70's dance party at my friends' Stephanie and Laura, I'm craving dancing in public, and there seem to be fewer opportunities for public dancing than when I was younger. "Don't stop me and I won't stop you," as this song commands:
"Are you angry at God?" asks the Rabbinical Intern.
Later, I think of an answer: Not when I'm dancing, or rollerblading:
Or "Funkin' for Jamaica" and getting to see the beautiful, female singer for the first time by watching the video, which I usually don't like to do; what they produce is always less appealing to me than what I see in my head. Not this time, though. And the mens' spirit is uplifting. They love making the music maybe more than any musicians I've ever seen.
The Psalm book I was reading from today had been a gift to my mom (z"l) from me. I inscribed it 15 years ago, in 5760 of the Hebrew calendar:
When the Rabbinical Intern and I were talking earlier, why didn't I notice that my mom (z"l) had underlined part of the last sentence of the very Psalm that the Intern asked me to read aloud, "...be strong, and let thy heart be of good courage...."
Escaping, Through Music, But Not Really
Starting at 1:40, which is probably where it always began when DJs played it on WBLS-FM, the song almost makes me forget my grief. Almost:
It's a great time when songs like this are playing on the radio -- my dad's employed again and I'm learning Disco and Ballroom dancing from David Jones in my hometown, Stamford, Connecticut, so that I feel like I belong at the 11 Bar Mitzvahs and six Bat Mitzvahs I attend between 1977 and '78.
This song comes a year later, but it's the sort we Hustled to at all of the Bar and Bat Mitzvah receptions, and I miss it today. Who knew then that five years later, my dad (z"l) would be dead of common bile-duct cancer?
This next song...
...also gets good about 30 seconds in and almost makes me pound away the blues of my pastoral session from earlier today. A Rabbinical Intern at our shul, wants to know what God would say to me after I ask, "When can I just fall apart?"
"Never," God says, I tell her. He says, "Keep going. It won't serve you to fall apart."
At ~1:20 in, God might as well say:
Or He could be as Kind as a number of the Psalms and pledge:
The Rabbinical Intern tells me, "Let's look at Psalm Chaf Zayin. Keep reading."
I read aloud, "For my father and my mother [in that order] have left me; but the Lord will take me up."
"Do you believe that you can let God into your life to help you?" The Rabbinical Intern asks me and I'm almost embarrassed at her revival-style inquiry.
"I *can*, yes, but will I?" I say, barely aloud.
Last night on Twitter, a former Modern Orthodox Jewish day schoolmate and I had an exchange of tweets around an article that compared and contrasted coming out as Atheist to coming out as lesbian, gay, bi or trans. He's an Atheist and one of only three friends of mine who identifies as Atheist...that I know of. He's definitely not:
Didn't God give me this great music for dancing, escaping, wanting to live, for hope and joy, even in the midst of my sadness and fury?
Can't I shut my eyes right now, even as I'm typing and be transported through the furniture from *The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe*? Dancing the whole way! God, for a moment, I've become even younger than Bat Mitzvah age.
Now, back to the present, where I feel very alone. Indeed, Pat is not home right now, but even with Phoebe, the kitty, here in her plush bucket-bed next to me on the floor, I'm just by myself, except for my Disco and Funk friends:
What if I could time-travel and heed the eventual call of this video to go to Barbados for a weekend in 2010, for three days and nights of "Pure Rare Grooves"? There's no such thing as a geographic cure, they say, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to escape my mourning. I am parentless. I am childless. Who will mourn for me? Ok, that was melodramatic.
Ever since I went to a '70's dance party at my friends' Stephanie and Laura, I'm craving dancing in public, and there seem to be fewer opportunities for public dancing than when I was younger. "Don't stop me and I won't stop you," as this song commands:
"Are you angry at God?" asks the Rabbinical Intern.
Later, I think of an answer: Not when I'm dancing, or rollerblading:
Or "Funkin' for Jamaica" and getting to see the beautiful, female singer for the first time by watching the video, which I usually don't like to do; what they produce is always less appealing to me than what I see in my head. Not this time, though. And the mens' spirit is uplifting. They love making the music maybe more than any musicians I've ever seen.
The Psalm book I was reading from today had been a gift to my mom (z"l) from me. I inscribed it 15 years ago, in 5760 of the Hebrew calendar:
5760
Dear Mom,
May these Psalms comfort you whenever and wherever you need comforting.
Love,
Sarah
When the Rabbinical Intern and I were talking earlier, why didn't I notice that my mom (z"l) had underlined part of the last sentence of the very Psalm that the Intern asked me to read aloud, "...be strong, and let thy heart be of good courage...."
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Sad Music to Match My Mood
The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.
These Songs Help Me Feel My Sadness Around the Loss of My Mom (z"l)
Not all of the lyrics are sad, but all of the melodies make me feel sad, and not all of the melodies are entirely sad, but sometimes the lyrics are. And sometimes, they're neither, but they remind me of sad times. And sometimes, they're just moving to me in a sort of sad way.
Charlie Brown Christmas song by Vince Guaraldi
One Hundred Ways by James Ingram
Wedding Bell Blues by the 5th Dimension
One Less Bell to Answer by the 5th Dimension
Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton
Problem by Ariana Grande, featuring Iggy
Where Does the Time Go by Julia Fordham
Father Figure by George Michael
Rhode Island is Famous for You by Michael Feinstein
I've Got You Under My Skin by Nenah Cherry
It Never Entered My Mind by Rodgers & Hart, sung by Ella Fitzgerald - This was the song that made my mom (z"l) sad after my dad (z"l) died.
That's the Way I Always Heard It Should Be by Carly Simon
The Piano Has Been Drinking by Tom Waits
Such Unlikely Lovely Lovers by Elvis Costello with Burt Bacharach
God Give Me Strength by Elvis Costello
The Message by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five
Sof la'Sipur (End of the Story) by Yehudit Ravitz
Yo Ya by Poogy - reminds me of dancing to the record in the living room where I grew up, the living room that we'll be listing along with the rest of the house tomorrow, to be sold.
Lost in the Supermarket by The Clash
Black Boys on Mopeds by Sinéad O'Connor
I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt
No One Is Alone from "Into the Woods" sung by Bernadette Peters
Sunday, December 20, 2009
My Cross-country Skiing Adventure
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies.
Brief, but Sweet
What an excellent afternoon I've had, thanks to a satisfyingly arm-wrenching amount of exercise on my cross-country skis. I wore my iPod and ski-goggles and still felt the wind, burning the exposed part of my cheeks, just like when I played in the snow as a kid or went down-hill skiing throughout my adolescence. And it's the most powerful feeling I know to walk with my left arm slung over the front half of my skis as I walk to and from my destination with them perched on my left shoulder. Just like with rollerblading, probably, I think I look so much cooler than I do when I'm carrying the skis so cavalierly....
The sun was bright and the air was colder than I expected. Cars passed and I wanted to be seen, but didn't look at the people in them, as I didn't want to seem less cool by doing so.
If I could play in nature daily, I'm sure I'd be calmer and more satisfied with my life.
Here was the musical score for my adventure:
Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me with Science" is continuing on my laptop where my iPod left off. It reminds me of dances during my senior year of high school, after my dad of blessed memory died. Music is so hope-delivering. Teena Marie's on now: "I Need Your Lovin'" -- bought it twice by mistake, but it's so good, maybe I'll listen to it twice. Reminds me of rollerskating at 15.
"Square Biz" by Teena Marie came next, in '81 and was an even better roller-skating song. Lady T's "Lovergirl" came out my sophomore year at Michigan and it reminds me of going to the town's lesbian bar at the time, the Rubiyat, as clandestinely as possible. Watched, mesmerized, as a smooth-dancing brunette led another woman around the dance-floor to it.
Tears for Fears' "Shout" came out the same year and it told me persistently to "Shout, shout, let it all out...." I didn't listen for another three years, when I finally came out as lesbian to my family. Fortunately, no shouting was involved.
T.V. Carpio was introduced to me just a couple of years ago by a colleague at work. He told me she sang the Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand" to another woman heartbreakingly, from the movie, "Across the Universe;" I still need to see the film.
I'd like to say I recall hearing Sylvester's "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" in 1978 when I was 13, but I'm not sure that's true. Still, as soon as I did, it became a favorite and is playing on my iPod now. "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega reminds me of living with my first girlfriend on Roscoe and Broadway in Chicago, even though "Luka" was the song that came out in 1987, when we lived together. "Tom's Diner" came out in '84 apparently. Till reading about it on Wikipedia just now, I never realized that it was referring to the restaurant near my partner's aunt's home. Pat's aunt died in 2006, but I still pass the restaurant all the time on my way to class at Teacher's College.
What memories will I recall in 2029 (God willing) about the music I'm listening to in 2009?
Brief, but Sweet
What an excellent afternoon I've had, thanks to a satisfyingly arm-wrenching amount of exercise on my cross-country skis. I wore my iPod and ski-goggles and still felt the wind, burning the exposed part of my cheeks, just like when I played in the snow as a kid or went down-hill skiing throughout my adolescence. And it's the most powerful feeling I know to walk with my left arm slung over the front half of my skis as I walk to and from my destination with them perched on my left shoulder. Just like with rollerblading, probably, I think I look so much cooler than I do when I'm carrying the skis so cavalierly....
The sun was bright and the air was colder than I expected. Cars passed and I wanted to be seen, but didn't look at the people in them, as I didn't want to seem less cool by doing so.
If I could play in nature daily, I'm sure I'd be calmer and more satisfied with my life.
Here was the musical score for my adventure:
- Your Woman - White Town
- Everything You Want - Vertical Horizon
- Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice
- My Boo - Usher & Alicia Keys
- Automatic - Ultra Nate
- New Year's Day - U2
- Pride (In the Name of Love) - U2
- I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking for - U2
- Spread My Wings - Troop
- All I Do is Think of You - Troop
- Bonita Applebum - A Tribe Called Quest
- Fast Car - Tracy Chapman
- Talkin' Bout a Revolution - Tracy Chapman
- The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me) - Tom Waits
- Life Is a Highway - Tom Cochrane
- Hello It's Me - Todd Rundgren
- No Scrubs - TLC
- Voices Carry - 'Til Tuesday
Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me with Science" is continuing on my laptop where my iPod left off. It reminds me of dances during my senior year of high school, after my dad of blessed memory died. Music is so hope-delivering. Teena Marie's on now: "I Need Your Lovin'" -- bought it twice by mistake, but it's so good, maybe I'll listen to it twice. Reminds me of rollerskating at 15.
"Square Biz" by Teena Marie came next, in '81 and was an even better roller-skating song. Lady T's "Lovergirl" came out my sophomore year at Michigan and it reminds me of going to the town's lesbian bar at the time, the Rubiyat, as clandestinely as possible. Watched, mesmerized, as a smooth-dancing brunette led another woman around the dance-floor to it.
Tears for Fears' "Shout" came out the same year and it told me persistently to "Shout, shout, let it all out...." I didn't listen for another three years, when I finally came out as lesbian to my family. Fortunately, no shouting was involved.
T.V. Carpio was introduced to me just a couple of years ago by a colleague at work. He told me she sang the Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand" to another woman heartbreakingly, from the movie, "Across the Universe;" I still need to see the film.
I'd like to say I recall hearing Sylvester's "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" in 1978 when I was 13, but I'm not sure that's true. Still, as soon as I did, it became a favorite and is playing on my iPod now. "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega reminds me of living with my first girlfriend on Roscoe and Broadway in Chicago, even though "Luka" was the song that came out in 1987, when we lived together. "Tom's Diner" came out in '84 apparently. Till reading about it on Wikipedia just now, I never realized that it was referring to the restaurant near my partner's aunt's home. Pat's aunt died in 2006, but I still pass the restaurant all the time on my way to class at Teacher's College.
What memories will I recall in 2029 (God willing) about the music I'm listening to in 2009?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
"Don't Stop Believin'"
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Unbound from Self-bondage
Occasionally and usually playfully, I acknowledge my self-absorption, and am pretty certain I've done so right here in this blog. Early this morning, though, it didn't feel funny.
Blame it on too little sleep; no swimming; working by myself at home too many days in a row; missing the cats after getting into a nice rhythm of having them around me all day while I worked; recent reminders of personal disappointments, e.g., not having succeeded in conceiving a child -- unwittingly, a colleague invited me to sit at the IBM table at the upcoming "Working Mothers" magazine gala...whatever the reason, I was in a dreadful mood as I drove to work this morning. Dreadful.
Driving over the Tappan Zee Bridge, the sun was just beginning to rise and I saw some pinkness on the horizon and even as I registered its beauty, it made me sadder. I was actually moved to pray to God aloud by myself in my car. And it would be neat if I could tell you I heard a disco-fied version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" after praying, but I'm not sure that's true.
As I heard the song, I recalled how much an adorable colleague from BlueQ (IBM's Canadian GLBT employee networking group) relished the song -- how she lit up when she heard it during the reception of a conference we were both attending in Austin last fall. Thinking of the colleague and her sweetness distracted me momentarily, but only momentarily.
Only one other piece of the morning cheered me briefly; as I put on my necklace while getting ready, I thought of my friend Radhika, who had given it to me when Pat and I lived in India in 2007. And then I was sad again, as I missed her.
The day would have to be just something to get through.
And then this afternoon, I spoke with colleague and friend. Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of the birthday of the baby-boy she lost shortly after child-birth. I was staring into the fall foliage, disturbed by the unkindness of nature as I listened to her confide in me.
"The better part of me feels like I should just shut up and listen," I said, "But I want to tell you that the closest I can come to empathizing is by thinking of how I felt, realizing that I couldn't have a baby -- well, I suppose I still might have been able to have one if I had gone to extraordinary measures, but after nine IUI's...well, still it's a lack, more than a loss....Well, it's a loss, but of what I never had, whereas your son was already a person with a personality. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."
I told her I loved her when we hung up and I do. And I wish that people's love and high, high regard for my friend could heal her magically, but what would healing mean in this case? Surely, it should not mean a dulling of her memory.
Connecting, Not Isolating
While listening, of course, I also realized how small my bad mood was in the giant shadow of her justified grief. It did not make me feel better to hear of another's misfortune so much as it restored me to my most loving self, being able, mostly, to listen. I've written here before about my favorite saying from Ethics of the Fathers: "Al tifrosh meen ha'tsibor."/"Don't isolate yourself from the community."
Probably, it's my favorite because it's a challenge for me at times not to do so. I'm an extrovert, but also sometimes, I think my extroversion is just an aggressive shyness, which I've written about here before, too.
In talking with that friend -- who would be justified in wanting to isolate from the community -- I was inspired that she was not doing so; I did not need to be cocooned in my own crummy mood....I don't think any of this part was conscious at the time.
Talking with my friend and then also being scheduled to join two different virtual community meetings today for work, my self-bondage was further freed. In both meetings, I asked questions that made me feel so much more connected to this world, and potentially, might have even been helpful to the other participants.
Why Self-destruction Doesn't Pay
My sadness and self-destructive impulse, if I think about it, began last night -- not long after receiving that gala invitation -- and I recall now that I tweeted, "Enjoying an escapist mood." Fortunately, the escape was through TV, rather than an even more tranquilizing substance...and fortunately, that's as self-abusive as I ever get -- using TV to distract me from my own life when I'm feeling scared or sad.
Now, of course, I'm feeling defensive, and like I need to qualify that not all of my TV-watching is so that I can become tranquilized (though probably, it's true more often than I'd prefer to admit).
I digress. My point was going to be about the value of resisting self-destructive impulses. I'm so glad that I felt present and useful at work. By the time I left the office, I was able to notice and be grateful for the foliage, the unseasonably warm evening and that it was still light out. Almost never do I get to leave during classic drive-time.
The down-side of leaving at prime-time is the traffic, but the huge upside is the special mixes of music that one of my favorite radio stations, 107.5 WBLS, plays at that time. My mood lifted high up during a series of favorites, including:
TLC's Creep and then Alicia Key's "Teenage Love Afair."
The part about staving off self-destruction hit home as I was driving back over the Tappan Zee Bridge and this time, the sun was setting, and this time, I was able to love the purple-orange, stacked-striated clouds. They reminded me of our kitties' fur or Halloween-hued whipped cream, and I enjoyed imagining raking my hands through them.
Upon reflection, another song broke my sad mood this morning for a few minutes: "I Need Your Lovin'" by Teena Marie. And when I got to work, a colleague had posted the following status in his Sametime instant message updater:
"Chieli Minucci...you haunt my dreams..... I love you and your light-jazz stylings welcoming me to another new day while I am waiting for a 6am conference call to begin. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HNbq2s_2Os." That made me smile, so I guess God was listening to my car-prayers.
Unbound from Self-bondage
Occasionally and usually playfully, I acknowledge my self-absorption, and am pretty certain I've done so right here in this blog. Early this morning, though, it didn't feel funny.
Blame it on too little sleep; no swimming; working by myself at home too many days in a row; missing the cats after getting into a nice rhythm of having them around me all day while I worked; recent reminders of personal disappointments, e.g., not having succeeded in conceiving a child -- unwittingly, a colleague invited me to sit at the IBM table at the upcoming "Working Mothers" magazine gala...whatever the reason, I was in a dreadful mood as I drove to work this morning. Dreadful.
Driving over the Tappan Zee Bridge, the sun was just beginning to rise and I saw some pinkness on the horizon and even as I registered its beauty, it made me sadder. I was actually moved to pray to God aloud by myself in my car. And it would be neat if I could tell you I heard a disco-fied version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" after praying, but I'm not sure that's true.
As I heard the song, I recalled how much an adorable colleague from BlueQ (IBM's Canadian GLBT employee networking group) relished the song -- how she lit up when she heard it during the reception of a conference we were both attending in Austin last fall. Thinking of the colleague and her sweetness distracted me momentarily, but only momentarily.
Only one other piece of the morning cheered me briefly; as I put on my necklace while getting ready, I thought of my friend Radhika, who had given it to me when Pat and I lived in India in 2007. And then I was sad again, as I missed her.
The day would have to be just something to get through.
And then this afternoon, I spoke with colleague and friend. Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of the birthday of the baby-boy she lost shortly after child-birth. I was staring into the fall foliage, disturbed by the unkindness of nature as I listened to her confide in me.
"The better part of me feels like I should just shut up and listen," I said, "But I want to tell you that the closest I can come to empathizing is by thinking of how I felt, realizing that I couldn't have a baby -- well, I suppose I still might have been able to have one if I had gone to extraordinary measures, but after nine IUI's...well, still it's a lack, more than a loss....Well, it's a loss, but of what I never had, whereas your son was already a person with a personality. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."
I told her I loved her when we hung up and I do. And I wish that people's love and high, high regard for my friend could heal her magically, but what would healing mean in this case? Surely, it should not mean a dulling of her memory.
Connecting, Not Isolating
While listening, of course, I also realized how small my bad mood was in the giant shadow of her justified grief. It did not make me feel better to hear of another's misfortune so much as it restored me to my most loving self, being able, mostly, to listen. I've written here before about my favorite saying from Ethics of the Fathers: "Al tifrosh meen ha'tsibor."/"Don't isolate yourself from the community."
Probably, it's my favorite because it's a challenge for me at times not to do so. I'm an extrovert, but also sometimes, I think my extroversion is just an aggressive shyness, which I've written about here before, too.
In talking with that friend -- who would be justified in wanting to isolate from the community -- I was inspired that she was not doing so; I did not need to be cocooned in my own crummy mood....I don't think any of this part was conscious at the time.
Talking with my friend and then also being scheduled to join two different virtual community meetings today for work, my self-bondage was further freed. In both meetings, I asked questions that made me feel so much more connected to this world, and potentially, might have even been helpful to the other participants.
Why Self-destruction Doesn't Pay
My sadness and self-destructive impulse, if I think about it, began last night -- not long after receiving that gala invitation -- and I recall now that I tweeted, "Enjoying an escapist mood." Fortunately, the escape was through TV, rather than an even more tranquilizing substance...and fortunately, that's as self-abusive as I ever get -- using TV to distract me from my own life when I'm feeling scared or sad.
Now, of course, I'm feeling defensive, and like I need to qualify that not all of my TV-watching is so that I can become tranquilized (though probably, it's true more often than I'd prefer to admit).
I digress. My point was going to be about the value of resisting self-destructive impulses. I'm so glad that I felt present and useful at work. By the time I left the office, I was able to notice and be grateful for the foliage, the unseasonably warm evening and that it was still light out. Almost never do I get to leave during classic drive-time.
The down-side of leaving at prime-time is the traffic, but the huge upside is the special mixes of music that one of my favorite radio stations, 107.5 WBLS, plays at that time. My mood lifted high up during a series of favorites, including:
TLC's Creep and then Alicia Key's "Teenage Love Afair."
The part about staving off self-destruction hit home as I was driving back over the Tappan Zee Bridge and this time, the sun was setting, and this time, I was able to love the purple-orange, stacked-striated clouds. They reminded me of our kitties' fur or Halloween-hued whipped cream, and I enjoyed imagining raking my hands through them.
Upon reflection, another song broke my sad mood this morning for a few minutes: "I Need Your Lovin'" by Teena Marie. And when I got to work, a colleague had posted the following status in his Sametime instant message updater:
"Chieli Minucci...you haunt my dreams..... I love you and your light-jazz stylings welcoming me to another new day while I am waiting for a 6am conference call to begin. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HNbq2s_2Os." That made me smile, so I guess God was listening to my car-prayers.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Spirited Materialism
The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.
Bindi'ed Buying Spree
After the temple visits -- I forgot to mention that Ganesh had a bright, red swastika painted on his forehead -- Pat and I set out to boost the Indian economy a bit.
Everything about yesterday countered what I was taught in my Modern Orthodox Jewish day school for the eight years I attended it:
Do not admire or enter other people's houses of worship lest you be suspected to be leaving your own tradition for theirs; do not appear to worship anything remotely idol-like; participate only in Jewish, and no other religions', rituals; do not ride on the Sabbath; do not spend money on the Sabbath....
I wasn't being willful -- just less observant than I learned to be as a kid....Still, I felt in violation of traditions I had been taught...though not sufficiently to keep me from what I wished to do during my Day of Rest.
In addition, I had a new sort of religious anxiety yesterday: Our driver is Hindu and I didn't want to offend him by wiping off the bindi, and so I wore it all day long. Into G.K. Vale to get my Trivandrum photos developed; into Gangarams Book Bureau; into the Cauvery Gift Centre of government-sponsored hand-crafts; into Hatricks Sports shop; into Planet M....I wondered if Hindus who've been to a temple go shopping afterwards, or if my fresh bindi was mocking Hinduism through its accompaniment of me in my materialistic pursuits.
Lovely Leisure
Right or wrong, yesterday was pleasurable nearly beyond how I've allowed myself to let go in India so far. Other than the night of dancing on the beach in Trivandrum with my colleagues earlier this week, until this weekend, I have been pushing, pushing, pushing myself with nearly no break; it was worth it from a work and school achievement standpoint, but I did finally listen to my mom about being kinder to myself in terms of re-gaining some balance.
We bought some gifts for loved ones and a number of gifts for ourselves, too. I bought three books, Corridor, which I relished and finished last night; Dance Like a Man by Mahesh Dattani, which I've just started; and The Diary of a Maidservant / Ek Naukrani Ki Diary by Krishna Baldev Vaid, which I've also just started.
We bought a bunch of DVDs and CDs, too, including *The Namesake,* which was touching, but not one of my all-time favorite movies by a long-shot; "Jana Gana Mana: Exclusive renderings of the [Indian] National Anthem by the musical maestros of India;" "Shooter," starring Mark Wahlberg, who we like; "Glory Road;" "Lagaan: Once upon a time in India;" "Perfect Stranger," starring Halle Berry and Bruce Willis; and three for 500 rupees: "Against All Odds," with Jeff Bridges and Rachel Ward; "America's Sweethearts," with Julia Roberts, Billy Crystal, Catherine Zeta-Jones; and John Cusack; and "London," with people we've never heard of and Jessica Biel.
I bought some remarkable jewelry at the Cauvery Gift Centre, including sterling silver pieces with iridescent Labradorite, Black Onyx and Mother of Pearl.
Music Thrills
My guiltiest pleasure yesterday: Buying pop CDs. I always love the compilations I get in other countries compared to what I find in the United States. I bought "Klub Arabia, The Biggest Hits from the Clubs of Arabia;" "Popcorn: 38 tracks that still snap pop and crack you up!" including Erasure's "Oh L'Amour," Carl Douglas' "Kung Fu Fighting" and Musical Youth's "Pass the Dutchie," a favorite of mine from high school; "Sandstorm," including tracks by a group called the "Bombay Rockers;" "Disco Desi," which includes a track called "Moksh" by a group called "Whosane;" and "Best World Music Album * in the world ever! *," which was produced by EMI Music India and most of the tunes of which seem to originate from India.
Whenever I hear "Pass the Dutchie," I feel like I'm with the singers on a Carribean ocean-front beach. Escaping that way was especially welcome when the song was a hit, in the Fall of '82, when my dad was dying. On the same CD, I'm now listening to Modern Talking's "Cheri Cheri Lady," which reminds me of dancing at Bar Aton, a club on the Mt. Scopus campus of Hebrew University in Jerusalem, throughout 1985/5746.
Please, God, may I always be able to hear music, in 2007/5768 and for the rest of my life....I wish all of you could hear Maduar's fun "Hafanana," playing on Klub Arabia in my ThinkPad right now. Effectively, you can.
Bindi'ed Buying Spree
After the temple visits -- I forgot to mention that Ganesh had a bright, red swastika painted on his forehead -- Pat and I set out to boost the Indian economy a bit.
Everything about yesterday countered what I was taught in my Modern Orthodox Jewish day school for the eight years I attended it:
Do not admire or enter other people's houses of worship lest you be suspected to be leaving your own tradition for theirs; do not appear to worship anything remotely idol-like; participate only in Jewish, and no other religions', rituals; do not ride on the Sabbath; do not spend money on the Sabbath....
I wasn't being willful -- just less observant than I learned to be as a kid....Still, I felt in violation of traditions I had been taught...though not sufficiently to keep me from what I wished to do during my Day of Rest.
In addition, I had a new sort of religious anxiety yesterday: Our driver is Hindu and I didn't want to offend him by wiping off the bindi, and so I wore it all day long. Into G.K. Vale to get my Trivandrum photos developed; into Gangarams Book Bureau; into the Cauvery Gift Centre of government-sponsored hand-crafts; into Hatricks Sports shop; into Planet M....I wondered if Hindus who've been to a temple go shopping afterwards, or if my fresh bindi was mocking Hinduism through its accompaniment of me in my materialistic pursuits.
Lovely Leisure
Right or wrong, yesterday was pleasurable nearly beyond how I've allowed myself to let go in India so far. Other than the night of dancing on the beach in Trivandrum with my colleagues earlier this week, until this weekend, I have been pushing, pushing, pushing myself with nearly no break; it was worth it from a work and school achievement standpoint, but I did finally listen to my mom about being kinder to myself in terms of re-gaining some balance.
We bought some gifts for loved ones and a number of gifts for ourselves, too. I bought three books, Corridor, which I relished and finished last night; Dance Like a Man by Mahesh Dattani, which I've just started; and The Diary of a Maidservant / Ek Naukrani Ki Diary by Krishna Baldev Vaid, which I've also just started.
We bought a bunch of DVDs and CDs, too, including *The Namesake,* which was touching, but not one of my all-time favorite movies by a long-shot; "Jana Gana Mana: Exclusive renderings of the [Indian] National Anthem by the musical maestros of India;" "Shooter," starring Mark Wahlberg, who we like; "Glory Road;" "Lagaan: Once upon a time in India;" "Perfect Stranger," starring Halle Berry and Bruce Willis; and three for 500 rupees: "Against All Odds," with Jeff Bridges and Rachel Ward; "America's Sweethearts," with Julia Roberts, Billy Crystal, Catherine Zeta-Jones; and John Cusack; and "London," with people we've never heard of and Jessica Biel.
I bought some remarkable jewelry at the Cauvery Gift Centre, including sterling silver pieces with iridescent Labradorite, Black Onyx and Mother of Pearl.
Music Thrills
My guiltiest pleasure yesterday: Buying pop CDs. I always love the compilations I get in other countries compared to what I find in the United States. I bought "Klub Arabia, The Biggest Hits from the Clubs of Arabia;" "Popcorn: 38 tracks that still snap pop and crack you up!" including Erasure's "Oh L'Amour," Carl Douglas' "Kung Fu Fighting" and Musical Youth's "Pass the Dutchie," a favorite of mine from high school; "Sandstorm," including tracks by a group called the "Bombay Rockers;" "Disco Desi," which includes a track called "Moksh" by a group called "Whosane;" and "Best World Music Album * in the world ever! *," which was produced by EMI Music India and most of the tunes of which seem to originate from India.
Whenever I hear "Pass the Dutchie," I feel like I'm with the singers on a Carribean ocean-front beach. Escaping that way was especially welcome when the song was a hit, in the Fall of '82, when my dad was dying. On the same CD, I'm now listening to Modern Talking's "Cheri Cheri Lady," which reminds me of dancing at Bar Aton, a club on the Mt. Scopus campus of Hebrew University in Jerusalem, throughout 1985/5746.
Please, God, may I always be able to hear music, in 2007/5768 and for the rest of my life....I wish all of you could hear Maduar's fun "Hafanana," playing on Klub Arabia in my ThinkPad right now. Effectively, you can.
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