I suppose if more than one person says it, then it must be true. Of course if I make it about someone else, in the end it's still making it about me. Or maybe making it about me is about someone else. Blake? Are you listening?
This sucks.
So in a previous episode, it was me and Tony Soprano being chased through the streets of Paris. In tonights episode (of the show, not my dreams), Tony's wife goes to Paris for a week. Coincidence? Perhaps Dr. W. knows...
Another blast from the past. Perhaps more directly applicable, given the weekend focus on ego...
Fame, (fame) makes a man take things over
Fame, (fame) lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, (fame) puts you there where things are hollow
Fame (fame)
Fame, its not your brain, its just the flame
That burns your change to keep you insane (sane)
Fame (fame)
I don't think this one applies to me directly...maybe in some sideways metaphysical way. Used to be a favorite of my long ago ex-roommate and partner-in-crime Tom.
I guess I shoulda known
By the way u parked your car sideways
That it wouldnt last
Well, my nagging hip injury finally got the better of me, and I decided (in consultation with Larry, sifu and friend) that I might need to chill on kung fu for awhile and try alternatives. So tonight I started back at ground zero in a beginning tai chi class. I suppose it isn't really ground zero as we're all a product of the experiences that brought us to this point in time, but in some ways it also is also more frustrating. As I began my journey learning the Yang 8 movement form I found my hands going to spots and motions ingrained through the last 2 years of kung fu. But that is part of the lesson...learning to "empty my cup" so I can have more tea.
A long, involved dream. An argument with an usher, small pipes on the organ, no signal on the cell phone, and a lot of walking. No wonder I'm tired...
Lela, our one-eyed cat, finally hit her 10th life today. A tiny pound rescue, Lela only had one eye. Not sure what happened to the other one...but from all we could tell, she'd had a pretty tough life. We adopted her from the shelter back in '00 or so...I can't remember exactly when. This evening she wanted to go out. When I lived at the house she was outside all the time (and in, and out, and in, and out...). When I moved into the apartment, since it was on the 2nd floor she rarely ventured out.
Nutso 5 or so days shaping up. Tomorrow I head north on a plane, then south on a motorcycle. Saturday and Sunday I race and instruct in the desert. Monday I head north, then east on a plane, ending up in Shanghai.
I need a program. And plenty of Airborne. That stuff rocks...
Two dreams. One was a toss off..."obvious" to me. The other, juicy, full of fodder, ripe for analysis. So of course one of the critical elements was in the toss off...a number that was in the dream. $12,000 to fix the Subie. "What does $12,000 mean," she asks. I have no idea. My 911 cost a little under $9K to fix when it had its concrete excursion. Then she asks me what I pay her. Holy crap.
Hey, at least I grabbed a towel and some shampoo from the house with the failing foundation. Need to "clean my mind." The bad news is the foundation is me. So I have some work to do.
No, not that kind. A travel visa. Next month I head off to Shanghai to explore my latent Chinese side. First I have to navigate the whole embassy thang. I probably should avoid the chicken sashimi, and no playing with dead birds.
Lots of pics of course...
Been in a work slump for some time now. Luckily my shrink has a suggestion: think about it. Great. I think it hinges on the fact that I've gone through a bunch of transitions, and am not finished. Well, you're never finished, but I sense that I'm still hanging on to my old "work" issues. And am searching for what I want to do when I grow up. In the past I've always played safe. I'm still playing safe, but am out on a bit more of a limb now that I'm on soft money. But I *think* that what I really want to do is create. Follow the new mantra: sound/image/ideas/speed. Now how to get paid for those 4 things...
but a pillow in the waiting room...
| Your Personality Is |
|
You are both logical and creative. You are full of ideas. You are so rational that you analyze everything. This drives people a little crazy! Intelligence is important to you. You always like to be around smart people. In fact, you're often a little short with people who don't impress you mentally. You seem distant to some - but it's usually because you're deep in thought. Those who understand you best are fellow Rationals. In love, you tend to approach things with logic. You seek a compatible mate - who is also very intelligent. At work, you tend to gravitate toward idea building careers - like programming, medicine, or academia. With others, you are very honest and direct. People often can't take your criticism well. As far as your looks go, you're coasting on what you were born with. You think fashion is silly. On weekends, you spend most of your time thinking, experimenting with new ideas, or learning new things. |
so says blogthings...
| Your Hidden Talent |
 And while this may not seem big, it can be. It's people like you who serve as the catalysts to major cultural changes. You're just a bit behind the scenes, so no one really notices. |
So you have this dream...and you remember it. In fact, you wake up with a visceral reaction to it. Then you try to analyze it. Unlike some dreams, you *know* who the players are...but are things always as they seem? Maybe the place is telling you *who* the dream is really about. Or maybe the place is telling you about the time telling you about *who* the dream is really about. I don't know.
No wait, I don't know's on third...
Sometimes I get the feeling that if I could just find the key, I could unlock parts of my self long since ignored, tattered, and torn, and start to heal them. The problem for a problem solver like myself (hmm...), is that there isn't just one key. There are many. It's more like a combination lock, and slowly the tumblers fall into place. But even that metaphor doesn't work, as there still isn't a single "aha" moment where all is revealed. So perhaps it is a bunch of locks on a bunch of doors, and slowly you work your way through them. I don't know. I do know that at least one key was found yesterday. And while the door that it opened won't make it all better, it does explain a lot. More will be revealed...
If you're into dreams you might take a look...
No, not the stupid tv show (that I've never seen...so perhaps it isn't stupid, but right now I don't care). I can't find my CDs. I've found some of them, but the lionshare have gone missing. I've been living on iTunes for so long I haven't taken stock since I moved.
I also can't find my Real Book 2 (jazz music book) or a stack of charts that I used to play with Kaz. I hate it when things disappear. But I guess that is part of transition...some things fade away.
repeat as necessary
Funny how music always comes to the rescue, and amazing how sometimes the feelings are simple and other times they are complex. There is an online argument about Neil Young. I made a comment or two, and ended up for whatever reason posting the lyrics to "Helpless." This is one of my ex's favorite songs, but I came to know it long before I knew her, seeing Young play it along with the Band in the movie The Last Waltz. But today of all days it seems even more appropriate...
So this morning it was a helicopter ride with some faculty from work, then riding on the landing gear, then a leaky roof in the back bedroom of a house where I was staying. Did I mention the ceiling was cinder block?
The unconscious marches on...
So I had this dream a few days ago where this woman (who could be a couple of people of either gender) kept talking to me and calling me "Blake." Now that isn't my name. First or middle. I don't have any friends named Blake. I asked my dad and there is no Blake in the family tree. The only Blake that came to mind was Blake Carrington. And that just didn't make sense to me.
There are a lot of hard things in life. But perhaps the most difficult is really living "one day at a time." It is so hard to avoid planning routes, seeing paths and destinations, and creating those expectations that rarely are met.
But life is a grand experiment. And now I'm trying to be in the moment. And enjoy that moment, be it happy or sad, pleasure or pain, calm or frenzied. Tomorrow doesn't exist. And yesterday might as well have never happened. Well, except for what we learned. That we can carry with us.
"when you lose, don't lose the lesson."
I did a database upgrade a few months ago and ended up "losing" a ton of my blog posts. Most of them in fact. I've been slowly adding them back but it is tedious work (cut and paste from a huge backup text file). If you peruse the archives you'll run across some of them. One thing that was a commen thread was "I'm tired" posts. I remember that time...it ran for about a year before I moved out, and then for some time afterwards. Well I'm tired again, but I suppose for somewhat different reasons. Then I was weathering external storms and internal choices. Now I weather internal storms and external choices. Or something like that. Hmm...maybe I am dyslexic. But its funny how once you go through the one-way door, you cannot go back.
not your traditional xmas photos...
Well, in yet another synergy of my proactive paradigms (it's a joke people), mother nature has lovingly provided just the right weather for me to work through my xmas day stuff. Gloomy. Kinda chilly. Fog in the morning, and fog later tonight. Yup...just about perfect.
Well, 22 years ago to the hour, I was about 10 pills, one gram, and half a quart into a watershed night in my life. And here I sit in '05. Don't know that this is a watershed night...more will be revealed. This is the first xmas eve and xmas I've spent alone though. Just me and the cats. Not totally alone though, as I'm just back from dinner with friends. But from now until Monday when I pick up my son...by myself.
It's after midnight, and as usual, sleep is not coming easily. iTunes is on shuffle play, and I've been grabbing my guitar from time to time. But I'm too tired for that right now...just listening. The Pretenders are up right now.
I've written an email but can't really send it yet. I need to sleep on it. Let it percolate. Honor the process. Times like these make me wonder if it is worth it. Maybe I was on to something with the anesthetizing. But then I come to my senses. Now it is the Allman Brothers, Whipping Post. Feels like i've been tied to the whipping post indeed. More will be revealed...
xmas eve 1983 was an ausipicous one for me. I almost died. I should have died. I had enough coke, booze and pills in me to choke a horse. My heroin-addict roomate had to prop me up since in his words, "you weren't breathing too good."
Well, I finally had the last meeting of a 4 year relationship this morning. It went better than expected in part because I have some serious sturm and drang going on elsewhere so there was something to chew on. I try, but parts of me resist. I make progress, but it seems like maybe it isn't enough. I'm not sure that I can live up to expectations. I'm going through extraordinary changes right now, and am managing pretty damn well I think. However, I make mistakes, and some things are very difficult. Some people don't return your calls, and others say things you'd rather not hear. Some of them true, others maybe less so. But at least for a few moments, I can live like a king.
I spent the morning with a friend. A close friend of his committed suicide on Monday. I found out about it because he posted on the BBS I have been a member of for over 4 years now. I didn't have all the answers, but felt that I needed to stop by his shop this morning and just sit for awhile. So we did. Then I was reminded of a poem that contained a line that has been told to me many, many times.
The concept of loss is not lost on me (hey, aliteration). We all suffer from the pain of loss, be it material, intellectual, or emotional. But these days I'm trying to honor the emotional side of the house, and loss is pretty rampant recently. I don't have many close friends, or people who really know me well, so if/when I lose one it is a pretty big blow.
For some reason I never thought that a Green Day song would become an anthem for me...let alone a number of tracks. But such is the case. While I seem to rotate around what is touching me at a particular moment (and often changing in minutes within the same day), this one always speaks to a part of me. Perhaps because when you come down to it, we really do have to walk alone. Yes, we can have friends, lovers, and family. But parts of the journey, be they inside, outside, long or short, have to be walked alone. That being said, in your heart you're never alone...
I've been told that I'm courageous. For a variety of reasons I suppose, but mostly because I've been through some very bad times, and have managed to not only survive, but in certain cases, thrive. Of course this notion is under challenge right now as I move to a new phase of working on me. And in part, the old ways that served me well from a survival mode are what are holding me back now. My courage needs to meet more honesty...living life as an open book. In my professional life I learned that honesty is not the best policy. But what I'm growing to understand is that in my personal and emotional life, honesty is the *only* policy that has any chance of working. Anything less leads to just more heartache and pain. And I've had enough of that for one life. Well, I likely haven't, but right now I feel like it. I need a good night's sleep...
They say that "rigorous honesty" is the best way to go through life. I'm not sure who "they" are, but at least that's one idea I've heard. I've tried very hard over the years to ascribe to that plan of action, but it is very difficult. The reason? Fear. It permeates me. It is what drives the insomnia. It is what pulls the wagon off course. It is what silences my inner self when I know I should speak. It is the true 4-letter word.
Lately I have worked on being as open and honest as possible. And I've done pretty well, except for a couple of slip ups. Errors of omission, based in fear. Fear that someone would get upset. Fear that I would end up alone. Fear that things wouldn't work out ok. But of course all of that is a self-fufilling prophecy. When you try and "protect" someone from the truth, you know the truth will come out eventually, and with more dire consequences than if you had just broached things from day one.
So to those that I have hurt through a lack of honesty, I offer a sincere apology. Know that it was not based in anger or contempt, but rather in fear. My own fear. I'm working on that these days. Not only coping, but digging to get out the roots. Like I never did right when I was pulling weeds for my mom. But that's a whole other story...
OK...show of hands. How many are in therapy? No, not physical therapy, but rather mental. You know...either seeing a psychiatrist, psychologist, couselor, etc. Well, for the past 4 years I've been seeing one. And a few weeks back I told her that I was going to switch to someone else. This all hinged on my discovery of Dr. Bail. I went to a day-long workshop with him and a number of his protoges. At some point in the moment I had what alcoholics (ok, raise you're hand if you're one of those too) call a "moment of clarity." So long story short, I decided to find a new therapist that was of the Bail school of psychoanalysis.
Greetings from the Lone Star state. I'm here in Austin, Texas at a Sakai Developer's Conference. Geeky, eh? I'm no programmer, but evidently I'm a tech "mover and shaker" of some degree, so I'm representin'. I got in at about 4:30pm local time (2:30pm PST) and hadn't eaten anything all day except cheese/peanutButter crackers. Mmmm, but I have a high metabolism and needed more. Finally I got to the lovely Red Lion Austin, and walked next door to Pappadeux. For dinner was a Sauza margarita and bacon-wrapped shrimp stuffed with jalapenos and cheese. Cajun meets a bit of tex-mex. Works for me.
I was supposed to be in the desert racing today. Well, actually finishing my license. But circumstances conspired against me. According to the "rules" I need to do both saturday and sunday, but sunday isn't possible as I've got my son, and he's not up for a trip to the track. I figured I'd just do today, but when I woke up at 5am and heard the wind (and felt the chill), I decided discretion was the better part of valor, and I climbed back into bed. Haven't had much sleep lately anyway...
Had this low-grad bug now since Sunday. Usually I just power through things when I'm sick, but I've got a crazy schedule this week, so I'm trying to actually sleep and rest. Sunday I was in bed until noon...thankfully my son is happily occupied by a combination of video games and direcTV since he was staying with me Saturday night. I've had think tanks every night this week, so the 14 hour day thing is not conducive to staying healthy. As such I've tried to work from home and take it somewhat easy during the day. Hopefully this will go away soon, but reports from friends (ie the ones who probably infected me) are that it can be about 2 weeks of fatigue. Ugghh...
This Perilous Relish guy...he's got it right. How he manages to avoid the mechanized hum of another world I know not. Or perhaps he embraces it.
Did I mentioned that I'm meditating now? Did I mention that I feel a non-sequitor coming on?
It rained today. In southern california. It never rains here. The girls only warn you. And me with a motorcycle but no rain gear, a subaru still in the shop waiting for a fender, and a race car but no tread on the tires. Luckily the ex with the ex-4-runner to the rescue.
I wonder when things are going to turn around? I suppose when I throttle steer my life in a different direction...
Well, as a result of "heartburn", my doc wanted me to see the cardiologist, and the cardiologist wanted me to do another perfusion stress test. I did one 3 years ago after having an "I'm turning 40 and I think I'm going to die" attack and concomitant full body scan. That showed calcification of the right descending artery (ie "the widowmaker"), so hence the stress test. 3 years ago it came back normal, but the doc wants to make sure that my heartburn is in fact acid reflux or equivalent and not something worse. So fast I did, and in goes the IV. Then the radioactive tracer, then under the imaging camera for 20 minutes while it collects data. Then hooked up to the ekg, and onto the treadmill for 12+ minutes. Then another blast of radioactive tracer, wait 30 mintues, then under the camera again. At the end of the month I'll find out what the story is. Fun, eh?
you get kicked in the stomach. I hate it when that happens. I thought I was figuring things out, and I thought that I had achieved a modicum of stability. Silly me. That obviously isn''t what my higher power has in store for me. Well, back to the drawing board. Hey, at least I broke 1:20 at Willow...
I made the mistake (or maybe not) of listening to Simpleflower tunes today. Shuffle play on iTunes is a dangerous thing when you''ve got a bunch of rough mixes, scratch tracks, and unfinished songs in the playlist. My life was going wrong for quite a few years, but in retrospect, was buoyed up by music. When the music fell apart, the other parts came down with it. The first major shot was snapping in Tokyo while on tour with Kaz. I never quite was right after that (May ''03). The fatal blow was when Simpleflower dissolved.
Looking back I had put so much of my emotional energy into the music...pinned so many hopes on the joy of making the music, that when it ended, everything else ended too. For the last month or two I have rarely picked up an instrument. I placed a couple of ads, but never hooked up with anything, in part because I just don''t feel like it. To top off the domestic changes, there are health issues now (not mine) that just make me want to climb in a hole...or hope on my bike and ride...and ride...and ride.
Well, another day, the other hand problem. This time, it''s my right hand. The pinky and ring finger don''t really want to move much. That makes plucking the bass strings a little difficult. And as an added bonus, my left thumb is acting up again. So it looks like a more ice and more rest for me, although I''ve got rehearsal on Thursday night, and studio time coming up this weekend. I''m wondering if the new medication to lower my cholesterol is causing some of these problems. Better living through chemistry.
When it rains, you get wet. And I''m a very good driver in the rain. Well, I rested my thumb until rehearsal on Saturday, and all went well. Although I still could tell that it wasn''t quite right, and I didn''t want to do much vibrato as that puts extra pressure on the thumb.
So today my pinky on the *right* hand starts acting up. Typing is a pain (pun intended). You''d think I was old or something...
Well, our and are usually stands for rest and relaxation. Well I''m trying to do the rest part, the relaxation is more difficult to find. It''s difficult when you think that your musical career might be an end. Of course, I always jump to the worst-case scenario. It''s the fatalistic streak in me. The problem is, a base or guitar player isn''t really much good if their hands don''t work. I even got worried enough to pull out some old piano music starts saying, if I could get my keyboard chops up. Of course that requires hands too.
I''m still tired. To be continued...
Well, what a festive couple of days. Sunday started auspicously enough, with a surf session gone bad (see previous post). Then rehearsal with a guitarist audition that was ok, but not a right fit. Then after rehearsal a slight pain at the base of my thumb. Then not so slight. Then excrutiating if I moved my thumb the wrong way. By Sunday night I was unable to brush my teeth using my left hand (and I''m left handed). Monday it remained bad, and I was unable to get ahold of my doctor (that is a whole other story). Tuesday morning it was still bad, and I managed to get an appointment to see an orthopedic guy. As luck would have it the pain subsided, but the diagnosis based on the xrays is in: arthritis. Gee, that''s just dandy. More later..
Rehearsal today...went fine. Then the left thumb starts hurting. Now I can''t move without screaming in pain. It hurts to type this. I''ll never play music again. Time to eat a glock...