On Remaining Misunderstood
Monday, January 6, 2014
Self-Help
Personal growth might not be a tumor on your spleen, but might occur as the new gaping wound in your inner life that you've just stumbled upon. Maybe you've had a recent personal crisis that brought your attention to it, and it might have brought you a brand-new revelation that for many years now you've been a person who, if you'd have known him outside your own self, would be someone you might keep at arms-length.
This disturbing new way of thinking will certainly come with a packet of previously-ignored information about yourself that you weren't so vividly aware of. It might include information like: How your mother treated you, or how your father did not treat you as a child; how you spent your youth being bullied by peers; how you found ways to not stand up and walk out in the open- where you were fair game... ad nauseum... Perhaps your life and behavior were founded on a principle of avoidance and camouflage so subtly, maybe even brilliantly crafted, that you embraced this way of being and forged all your relationships around this premise... and so spent your life in a kind of self-deceit...
Well that's the state-of-affairs part. The actual personal growth part has to do with what you do about it, especially if you are seeing all this new and soul-rocking scenario against what you thought your life was.
And now doesn't it almost feel as if everyone you know and care for have all been waiting to see the best of you, rather than the excuse for yourself you seem to be? Too hard to take in all at once? It's a true saying that the people closest to you believe in you- but really it's you who needs your better aspect to be realized, after all, and not them so much. And yes, you have to deal with this right now or you can't move meaningfully forward in your life anymore- which is, of course, the reason it's reared its nasty head at you.
You might learn what "Stockholm Syndrome" means, or what "Borderline Personality Disorder" is. You will most likely come to see yourself with renewed eyes, and whatever you call the process or the obstacles you have to overcome, it will be a great thing.
Now that you've come to it, well I don't have any answers for you of course. I'm busy cutting a path for my own answers. Which answers might provide inspiration for some, maybe, but won't address your own, just-for-you plate of personal head-and-heart tripping. So go and get on with it, go and dig it up- it's your life. It's going to hurt, it may render you stunned like a deer in headlights at times and might even aggravate some of your already tried-and-tired relationships that are the result of this fray of yours in the first place. But it'll be worth it. Just keep walking. Seriously- there's nowhere else to go anyway.
This disturbing new way of thinking will certainly come with a packet of previously-ignored information about yourself that you weren't so vividly aware of. It might include information like: How your mother treated you, or how your father did not treat you as a child; how you spent your youth being bullied by peers; how you found ways to not stand up and walk out in the open- where you were fair game... ad nauseum... Perhaps your life and behavior were founded on a principle of avoidance and camouflage so subtly, maybe even brilliantly crafted, that you embraced this way of being and forged all your relationships around this premise... and so spent your life in a kind of self-deceit...
Well that's the state-of-affairs part. The actual personal growth part has to do with what you do about it, especially if you are seeing all this new and soul-rocking scenario against what you thought your life was.
And now doesn't it almost feel as if everyone you know and care for have all been waiting to see the best of you, rather than the excuse for yourself you seem to be? Too hard to take in all at once? It's a true saying that the people closest to you believe in you- but really it's you who needs your better aspect to be realized, after all, and not them so much. And yes, you have to deal with this right now or you can't move meaningfully forward in your life anymore- which is, of course, the reason it's reared its nasty head at you.
You might learn what "Stockholm Syndrome" means, or what "Borderline Personality Disorder" is. You will most likely come to see yourself with renewed eyes, and whatever you call the process or the obstacles you have to overcome, it will be a great thing.
Now that you've come to it, well I don't have any answers for you of course. I'm busy cutting a path for my own answers. Which answers might provide inspiration for some, maybe, but won't address your own, just-for-you plate of personal head-and-heart tripping. So go and get on with it, go and dig it up- it's your life. It's going to hurt, it may render you stunned like a deer in headlights at times and might even aggravate some of your already tried-and-tired relationships that are the result of this fray of yours in the first place. But it'll be worth it. Just keep walking. Seriously- there's nowhere else to go anyway.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Swimming With Sharks
Got screwed by dealing with Craigslist, but it was my own damn
fault. The details are now too tired for
me to reiterate another time, but suffice to say that although I knew it was
indeed my own (un-) doing for dealing with inscrutable miscreant/angling con-job
types who populate that venerable soup-line of internet trading posts, still
you gotta recognize that dishonesty in the face of good faith (mine) sucks
worse than a three-hour bus ride with your best friend's mother-in-law.
Anyway I now have a noisy bass preamp to replace the beautiful, albeit
too-hi-fi Eden WT-405 amplifier I used to own.
Didn't love the Eden at all really, but it was better than the odd, and
loud, hum and hiss in this poorly laid-out Ampeg SVP-Pro I do now own. The newer edition of the SVP-Pro, that I
don't have, is great- and really this one actually DOES SOUND really good,
aside from the noise... I will bring it
to B-Sharp Music in Providence to see if Dave can do anything for it, but we've
spoken and he's doubtful... I have to try everything though, since the stupid
thing's here. No, wait- it's just a box
with a bunch of circuits in it. I'm the
one who went through with a bad deal to get it...
Craigslist can be a great thing.
If you find what you need for the right price, sell something because
you need the cash, or run into a great deal or opportunity then it's a good
resource. In fact I recently got a nice
little gig off Craigslist, building a set of 'end-caps' for a retail
display. Might generate some more work,
which'd be fine. I also found a
Portuguese festival band to audition for, which I've been with now for about 3
years. Okay, winners. But this was a profoundly gone-south, bad
episode. It's left me sour and
morose. Because it was, again, my own
fault. God I hate that.
Okay so briefly, here's what went down. I posted an ad to sell the Eden. Got an answer, a proposal to trade it for my
recent desire, an Ampeg SVP-Pro that the guy had laying around. I have wanted an SVT all-tube bass amp for
years to replace the one I traded off to Ric's Music in Seekonk back in '95, so
it sounded like a way to get there without the needed $1,000 or so, which I
ain't presently having. So having read
all about this special-est of all bass preamps here and there, I decided I'd do
it. The guy ended up implying to me that
if he were coming to my place he was going to want to know it would be a
deal. He had sort of a hard-luck story,
so I went with it, figuring I had worn such shoes before... I plugged it in when he got here, and it
seemed ok. I held to my word and we did
the deal. The Eden he went away with, I
knew, was flawless... he left, "happy" in his more or less
downtrodden state. So...
Over the next month or so I found it very noisy after all. Life is full of non-music things with school
issues, family-man duties, work, kids, cats, house, etc... and now a couple months
later I find time and the confidence to write the guy an email and voice my
complaint. I was met with "It's
been too long, and can't do anything about it now". But here's the thing: The preamp has a noise issue, and he knew it
did when he offered it, and when he gave me his hard-luck story to get my
sympathy (brings a song to mind). Well I
can't make him deal with me without going postal... and getting wrathful and vengeful
about it is not only distateful and unseemly, he also knows where I
live. I'm not living the "carefree" life of a bachelor... so it's either be amicable about making it right, or it's a closed
issue. It isn't going to be amicably
resolved. So I lose, and have to cut it
free and let it go. God I hate
that. But ok, I'm letting it go.
Sometimes I think that in 51 years I've learned damn little. Maybe I've learned a little more today,
because I hate it when I do this kind of thing.
At least I have my vintage, way-pre-Fender and good-sounding SWR heads,
an SM-400 and an SM-400s, the latter of which is now having a loud, annoying
'Pop'. Some of us had a loud annoying
pop when we were kids, but this one's at the amplifier's input. So when I go get the SM-400 out of the shop
tomorrow I can drop off the SM-400s, along with the Ampeg preamp. Maybe we can get a noise-ectomy for it.
Yay, gear.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Lobo
I'm sitting next to Lobo, listening to the strains of Serenada
Espagnole played by my younger daughter and her violin teacher. My kid goes to her house after school once a
week, has been for about 6 years now, to not only sharpen, but truly realize a
meaningful aspect of her musical talent.
Both my kids are nearly prodigious musicians with a natural feel for
their respective instrument. They've got
highly sensitive and focused ears that I wish I had, and they both sing in a
traditional Anglican choir. I have, in
recent years, come to understand just how much of a poor hack and a charlatan I
really am in light of the prowess of my progeny, who seem to have a pretty good
chance of doing something reasonable with what they've got. Keeping them at it is the thing, but when I
find myself "chasing rabbits" with them when it's practice time, I
remember all the famous Grammy-winners I've ever heard thanking their moms and
dads for all those years of constant prodding, and then I can muster up the energy
to give them a good nagging.
Mrs. Freese is 85 or so, and used to play her violin on Broadway. Her dad made her play hours a day, often not
letting her leave her room until he was satisfied with what he heard coming
through the door. Her intonation has
bent a few degrees south since those days of show-stoppers and ovations, and
marriage to a man who wouldn't let her leave his sight has had to have some
kind of adverse effect on her inspiration factor... but she's a good teacher,
never leaning harder than what she perceives her student is willing to deal
with. She's got a good sense of where
her students are at, and if the kid wants to play, they'll do it, she
figures.
Lobo is laying next to me on the old divan as I type, dozing fitfully
while screeling glissandos sail and arc from a high D through the room. He's a Pomeranian, small as a toy football
and might be old enough to remember that day someone brought Fire back to
camp. He almost got put down last week,
but seems to have come back, as it were; he took a fall halfway down the staircase a few days ago. He's got a bum-leg, gets constipated a lot,
and is currently severely dehydrated.
The whole house pretty much reeks of Lobo's presence- and incontinence. But he's a good old fella, and it's certain that love suffers all things- especially little things, like not making it to the litter box. I have a
feeling we're going to be missing him pretty soon... and new carpets and some minor re-hab are going to be small consolation.
These animals we keep- the whole pedigree/breeding thing is so weird, and definitely un-natural, but somehow there seems to be an agreeable nature to the relationship. Dogs generally accept their position as Man's Sidekick; even to the point of what appears to be the cheerful wearing of sweaters, hats, and other unlikely/human-like apparel. They even- some of the more intensely bred varieties especially- seem to take on a sort of low-level humanity, even mimicking the personalities and nuance of their charges. Dogs have an uncanny (pardon the suggestion of a pun) way of getting along with people, almost as if it's their commonly understood secret occupation to keep us company, help us out when the chips are their down-est, look out for us. Even when, like Lobo here, we have to take care of them to the point of being a full-time nurse. But I suppose they're giving us someone to bestow love upon, to keep us in some kind of good grace and keep us out of trouble. Funny how I'm so ready and willing to believe there's some high-calling, some kind of mission these animals we've modified into our own likeness must be on. I just came here for the violin lesson, and now I'm writing science fiction.
These animals we keep- the whole pedigree/breeding thing is so weird, and definitely un-natural, but somehow there seems to be an agreeable nature to the relationship. Dogs generally accept their position as Man's Sidekick; even to the point of what appears to be the cheerful wearing of sweaters, hats, and other unlikely/human-like apparel. They even- some of the more intensely bred varieties especially- seem to take on a sort of low-level humanity, even mimicking the personalities and nuance of their charges. Dogs have an uncanny (pardon the suggestion of a pun) way of getting along with people, almost as if it's their commonly understood secret occupation to keep us company, help us out when the chips are their down-est, look out for us. Even when, like Lobo here, we have to take care of them to the point of being a full-time nurse. But I suppose they're giving us someone to bestow love upon, to keep us in some kind of good grace and keep us out of trouble. Funny how I'm so ready and willing to believe there's some high-calling, some kind of mission these animals we've modified into our own likeness must be on. I just came here for the violin lesson, and now I'm writing science fiction.
Hmm...
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Red Room
So it's been a while since my last entry... I'm sitting in our 'Purple
Room' here at home, waiting for an answer to my morning phone call inquiring
into the day's activities, and musing over the events of late. Two days ago we created "The Music
Room", and did a little home arranging, trading 'purposing' between spaces (I hate the new lingo, the making of verbs out of nouns, seemingly at the whim of the moment). It's much nicer to be in the house now, and
there's the beginning of an environment that is actually civil in nature and
comfortable to be in. It's been 14
years, it's about time I guess- now that the kiddies are old enough to
appreciate it and learn to take care of it.
As am I, finally...
I was also able to- and really it was by necessity, as one thing is
tied inexorably to another around here- get into arranging the band room in the
basement. Got some clutter like stray
cables and junk "music gear" squared away, built a small shelf for the
PA and recording jig out of some scrap MDF from a side-gig, the small
refrigerator (for beer, etc.) holding up an end of the shelf. It's tidy, in a junkyard office-trailer sort of way. And it was just in time for rehearsal last
night, how convenient. "The
Same" are beginning to get our feet under us, just a little bit... as long
as I'm on the subject... and I do mean
it when I say "a little bit"!... but it's happening and that's
encouraging. We're even doing a Cheap
Trick tune, "Downed", from the In Color album. We don't sound like Cheap Trick though... we don't
sound like Husker-Du either, or The Dead Boys.
We sound like The Same... which is, so far, on the good side of
lackluster- but, there's a voice trying to emerge. You know, in fact I'm cheating us with all this disparaging talk- we really are sounding
alright. We sound 'like something'... pretty good,
even. To really be fair, this Bad News Bears of basement rock bands might just go
play a few shows and generate some kind of notoriety pretty soon. That's notoriety, not to be confused with fame. And a little notoriety might even be favorable...
especially if we're good. More on
that...
Anyway we've got all the acoustic instruments, and the piano, moved
into one space, what was until now referred to as 'TheRed Room'. 'The Grey Room', where the piano used to be, is adjoined to the kitchen, and that
was a bit of a schized-out and uncomfortable situation. It
was incongruous; the Feng-Shui was all wrong.
Now the Grey Room is for sitting, next to the busy-but-homey kitchen, and
that relationship works. When you
have company, see, you're not flustered or harangued, and you can make tea or cook
an orderly dinner in the homey kitchen while taking part in a reasonable conversation that's going on in the
sitting room.
The Red/Music Room now has its proper place removed one more environment away from the kitchen area, and its personality
is finally established. It's comfortable in its new
purpose, and the '74 Polytone 212-300 bass combo amp snugged into a little recess by the entrance to the room really finishes the vibe off nicely. It's a strangely period-appropriate 2x12 combo amp
that'll be perfect for my elder kid's piezo-pickup-equipped string harp, on the occasion it needs to be
amplified for those loud, semi-drunken bluegrass jams our local bluegrass-festival-mongering friends will make us have now. We still need to put away
some bins loaded with pictures and kids' artwork that are taking up some precious floor-space, and hang the more novel
framed items on walls, but what's ever finished in your house anyway? We're not of retirement age yet, and spend too much time on our feet to really need everything all settled anyway. But home is a good place, when you make it home. Takes a lot of work to make that happen, and
it might even require a serious wake-up call- as one can get used to an environment compromised by seemingly endless vibrant activity. But when you
finally do it, it's worthy. I like being
home.
Now, where are my red shoes...
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Hurricane Day
Monday, October 29, 2012
Hurricane Sandy is loping along her wanton path somewhere several hundred miles south and slightly west of us here in RI. Word is she's supposed to be turning west
into New York and New Jersey by now.
It's about 4:45, and her intensity in our little neighborhood has only
'moved up a notch' since I was up on the ladder at 7 a.m. screwing 3/8"
plywood over all the fragile old window sash on the front of the house. I might even say I'm just a mite bit
disappointed in the low-level performance of this "Monster Hurricane"
we've been hearing about for the last 2 days.
I haven't really been checking in on weather a few hours now, as
it's been sort of a quiet and uneventful time here. We've all whiled away the day sort of hanging
out, each of us with our own rendition of "doing nothing". Been kind of nice actually.
I watched the first episode of "Battlestar Galactica" on
Netflix, after having spent a couple weeks being brought up to speed on the
otherwise, to me, incomprehensible story by the entire season of its pilot
prequel,"Caprica", which provides a reasonably entertaining
back-story. The original version of
"Battlestar" was in fact produced in the 80s, and it's recieved a
good deal better production this time around.
The story has also been made a fuller experience with inclusion of the
afore-mentioned prequel, and is all together pretty engaging and not so campy
at all- the only potential exception being in the ultra-hot, ambitiously blonde
Cylon nymph who inhabits the mind of the traitorous human scientist (but I'll
concede it's actually an intruiging nudge at what we in our pop-society call
"mental illness")... funny I don't remember her character's name...
My wife has been entertaining the piano to facilitate learning her
music for choir practice, between visits sitting outside the kitchen door to
commune with Sandy's periphery and cooking various food items for us all to
browse through the day. My kids are
upstairs playing "Animal Jam" on-line and being checked in on from
time to time by their annoying parents.
My elder kid and I took a walk out to the pond earlier today to watch
the wind-spirits fly across the surface of the water, look for still-living
palm-sized snails, and lean back into the wet gusts of wind.
So far we haven't had need of any emergency measures or hunker-down
sessions. It's just been a quiet, sort
of pleasantly listless day of rest. I'm
almost bored... and quite content with it.
Ah, and now I think I'll go see if
I can dig up that bottle of Moxie I bought yesterday, which seems to
have disappeared. Might be my kids have
taken after their old dad.
And with that I'll sign off, leaving you with the word my friend and
band-mate Larry said to me over email early this morning, "Stay dry and
vertical".
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