Today… simple.

I’m counting Suicide Lounge.

Simple, in that… that’s something that counts for me right now.

Not so simple is… WHY it counts.

I remarked the other day that I still feel like I’m hallucinating when we rehearse or play together.

Not an exaggeration.

These guys know what they’re doing, and I just get to SING! I sing… and sing… and sing… And then they tell me maybe I need to do this, or that… and I do this or that… and I sing some more…

And my lord, it feels so good.

I think it may be saving my sanity.

Everyone has, you know, LIFE to deal with. Everyone has problems, large and small. Everyone cries, hurts, loves, loses, gets frustrated, and is just trying to get by.

This helps me get by when all the other things pile on and I’m not sure if I’m GOING to get by.

Maybe it’s some of the lyrics in songs, alternately humorous and profound:

“Hey there baby… WHERE do you think you’re goin’. You know I’m NEVER gonna let you leave me allllll alo-ine.”

“I’ll forget you, I will, while yet you are still burning inside my brain…”

“Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered…”

“And you say I’m a fool-around, Honey that may be true, But I’d sooner fool around, Than be a fool for a fool”

“Trust in me…. JUST… in me….”

“God bless the child that’s got his own.”

It all counts. It counts because these guys are so good, and kind, but HONEST with me that I’m just honored to be there. It counts because I’m not singing all the time, and I prefer it that way. It counts that we have fun, and nobody takes him/herself too seriously, but we ARE serious about what we do being good. And we ARE good.

It counts… because when I’m singing… I’m not here, I’m not me, I’m in that other place where all I have to do is feel and channel what I’m feeling.

I like that place, and there are only two ways I can get there. I find… I need to visit it more often than I thought. I think, deep down, I’ve known that all along, I just… never had the chance.

These days… Suicide Lounge is the only road I have to get there.

It helps.

And it counts.

I know, I know, it’s late. But it’s still Friday.

Memories

“…like the corners of my miiiiiiind….”

I had to do that.

Today I’m counting memories. But I don’t see them as misty, or water-colored. They’re the jewels that still shine, even when the frame of our lives has grown dull, misty, water-colored, gray, or even dark.

I’ve been thinking about that lately, having lost a dear and very treasured friend. I don’t have her. I don’t have her voice, or her thoughts or opinions… but I do have what I remember. I do have the memories of all the fun we’ve shared, of all the wisdom she’s offered, of all I know of her.

(That’s her with her husband.)

Memories are cool that way… because even in the most dire of moments, even in the darkest depths of grief, I’ll remember something she said, or a joke we laughed at together, something silly that was done, or said, or worn… and suddenly I’m smiling…

Then, this last week, I got to see people I knew 20 years ago… and THAT brought back memories I didn’t even know I had.

More smiles, more laughter, more wistful remembrance.

People come and go in our lives. Friends grow apart, move away… We get older, and more involved in our own paths, losing track of the paths of others…

We meet new people who light up our lives and burn deeply into our hearts and minds. We love unreservedly…

And that doesn’t always work out either… but oh, the memories. So many beautiful, precious, important memories.

The first sight of a face that becomes etched in the mind for all time…

The ghost of a touch, a whisper…

The smell of cologne…

The echo of laughter…

A favorite pet…

The first time you hold a baby in your arms, so tiny, precious and fragile…

The gaze of adoration from a loved one…

A remembered holiday tradition…

(Ok, who didn’t do that with the olives at a holiday gathering?)

The vista you saw as you gazed across the horizon from your childhood home…

The profile of a sleeping child…

Awards won, endeavors accomplished, victories gained…

A memory is enough to change your body chemistry… it can evoke feelings of desire, longing, love, lust, sorrow, anger, regret… and oddly, I find that time does not diminish the effects of some of these.

Memories, links to our past selves, signposts that help mark the paths we’ve taken to be who we are today.

Photos can fade, mementos can be lost, people taken from us… but always, we have memories. I pray fervently I never lose mine.

Today I count memories, because sometimes… they’re all we have left of those grand moments in life.

I’m counting! I’m counting!

That, right there, should count.

But that’s not my count today.

No, today’s count is…

Unsolicited Advice

Marvel with me now:

“Oooooooooh…”

“But Joy,” you say, “How does unsolicited advice count? Don’t most people find it useless, or get annoyed by it?”

That is most certainly, very often, the case.

Still, unsolicited advice can be eye-opening. It can call one’s attention to something that has been ignored. Maybe we get annoyed because it forces us to see things from a perspective we find uncomfortable or just inconvenient.

Unsolicited advice offers a fresh opinion on things that may have become bogged down in the wants/needs/desires, self-serving instincts, and emotional drama of the individual to whom it’s being given.

Example:

When a 25 year old male looks at a 38 year old female after discussing a brief history of the travails of the heart of said female along with her lament that she just… can’t… stand it… any more… and says, “Grow up, Joy” …

This…THIS is unsolicited advice. It gives pause.

But it is truth, isn’t it? Unsolicited advice can be a gentle nudge, a slap in the face, a derisive smirk, or even the offer of a hand up out of one’s woes.

It’s usually very heartfelt. It’s often given with the best of intentions.

Nobody ever said you have to TAKE the advice, but value it when it’s given. Think about it. Consider why the person would say what they said in the way that they said it. Ponder what your situation means to them, and maybe that will help you adjust it to what it should mean to you. Take a moment to look at the bigger picture, from a 90 degree angle, and from a few steps back.

You won’t always agree. Often enough you’ll do precisely the opposite of what is suggested. Just don’t discount it outright. Listen, process it, and then, after you’ve allowed the information to add to your own understanding and judgement, you can make an even more informed decision. (Note I did NOT say a ‘better’ decision, because sometimes… we just have to make bad decisions. It’s part of the eternal growth process.)

Unsolicited advice.

It counts.

Today, I’m counting… um, Idunno-what-to-call-’em.

You know, when Julie Andrews (note: I always wanted to be her when I grew up, a topic for another blog) said, as Maria in Sound of Music, “Whenever God closes a door, he always opens a window.” It’s THAT which I’m talking about.

Those little openings.

Something ends, but if you turn your head, something new is beginning somewhere else if you bother to notice.

Walking down the road with your eyes everywhere but on the road, and you trip, and you have to look, and you realize there’s another path branching off… and YOU can take it…

Orrrrr… maybe there’s that person that shoves something in front of you and says “Here. Looky. Try THIS. Ain’t gonna kill ya if ya try…”

Not sure what I’m talking about here…

Hope?

Life goes on?

A little courage to look out that window; to turn your head and change course; take that path less traveled; say “Ok, yeah, thanks, I’ll give it a shot…”?

Had anyone told me 10 years ago that at THIS point in my life I’d be dancing AND singing anywhere but in my shower, I’d have said they were insane (while secretly wishing it were true).

It IS true.

I am where I am, doing what I’m doing, because of the choices I’ve made. They haven’t all been the most wise choices, but the bad ones… those are sitting somewhere in the dust on the road BEHIND me.

Because I opened up my eyes and dived through the window, looked to see what was going on around me, BOLTED for the path less traveled and listened (and gratefully accepted) when opportunities were offered, stepping through those apertures that appeared in front of me.