Monday, May 31, 2010


There are assumptions that we all make. We do. We may try hard not to, but we do. We judge. We question. Most of all, we judge and question ourselves. Sometimes we try so damn hard that we keep failing at what we're trying to do. I bet you didn't know that I was in love with Culture Club as a kid. Of yes, Boy George had a special place in my heart, maybe it was because it was the 80's or maybe I just liked his eye shadow. I would dance around the living room hoping that my moves and voice would land me a spot on Star Search. Boy George was eventually replaced with Vanilla Ice and Kirs Kross. Then I discovered music, the kind that you feel, that moves you without a catchy lyric. It can make you cry with one note and smile with the next verse. The kind that brings you closer to the cute guy holding your hand in the Fillmore. Or to your high school best friend and the stars in a field in Northern Michigan. Or to your parents while watching Aretha Franklin. Or to yourself when you're all alone on a Sunday night. Such a simple thing that sustains us in moments of highs and lows. I wasn't planning on writing a blog entry on music, but somehow this is where I ended up. I was just thinking and sometimes this is how my thoughts drift. I am not going to say that one musician is better than another. Shit Insane Clown Posie was just important to me as Taj Mahal... sometimes you need a different mood or perspective. Sometimes you need a catchy lyric and sometimes you need pure emotion and rhythm. And sometimes you need to just cuss and head bang especially as a woman... yup ladies or should I say fuck yeah ladies.

Ah shit, hope you guys can hang on for a longer entry. I got a little off track. So going back to the first few sentences. Those regarding judgement, blah, blah. So I have something to admit. Even with a Lucky Thong and a running skirt, I feel an urge to be tough. Maybe it was the few years of playing football with the boys during recess. Or trying to run with my close guy friend in junior high track practice. Shit maybe Vanilla Ice and Kris Kross really brought out my don't mess with me because I'll try to come back fitter and stronger attitude. Or maybe I've got a bit of a feminist side and I'd really love to see women crossing the line in front of men (no offense guys). Even though I feel this urge to be tough, I struggle. I settle in comfort. I am learning. Learning to push up Mt. Diablo huffing and puffing, grateful to get to the top four minutes faster than previous training runs. And extremely grateful to the guy that encouraged me that I could dig deeper. Through the climbs, tears, and desires I am discovering that it is ultimately about rhythm. Life. Music. Running. Breathing. Living. The rhythm changes. Sometimes it is equivalent to a simple slow breath as I lay in bed at night trying to slow down my thoughts. And sometimes it is like a trendy lyric. And other times it is something you feel with every heartbeat...

1 comment:

Sunshine Girl said...

Rock and roll, 'cause you got rhythm, baby! Loved this post.