To those on stage

Last night I saw Ween at the Paramount.  And may I say, fucking wow!  And I'm not sure I even like them.  But wow, they are a talented bunch.

I've been going to concerts for over 20 years and would consider myself a veteran.  It's become quite a hobby for me.  I've always found people's hobbies to be interesting.  Of all of the infinite choices of things to do/see/eat/experience how did you arrive at that interest?  Additionally, I could drive myself crazy pining after all the interesting things I'd like to be doing, especially in a city like Seattle.

So why concerts?  Why have I spent so many thousands of dollars on a couple hours of entertainment with varying levels of obnoxious fellow guests, lines, waiting, standing and waiting and then waiting some more when it's all over and I've forgotten half (who am I kidding, way more than half) of the playlist?

1. I am completely addicted to music.  There aren't more than 2 waking hours in my day that don't involve music.  Headphones on the walk to work, headphones at work, repeat, music during dinner and jukebox if I happen to hit a watering hole.
2. Living history.  Seriously.  I'm tired of politics.  And museums don't really do it for me.  But watching the Eagles at the Gorge on their 30th anniversary tour with my father who was there for their first tour, well seriously, that's historic.  Or when Tom Petty announces an honorary band member of the Heartbreakers who's been with them since the 70's and Stevie Nicks floats across the stage, where else would I want to be?!
3. If you can't be one, join them!  I was in choir for much of my primary education.  I LOVE to sing.  Sadly, my love for singing is not matched with talent.  Plus, I would hate to be famous.  But oh how I love to sing along with those beautiful and talented voices.  I will never forget the Summer Nights on the Pier with my sister and the Indigo Girls.  As the sun sets the crowd matches the volume of the songbirds on stage and we all finish the song together.  They sigh and say that it was the best crowd singing they'd ever heard.
4. Inspiration meets lost opportunity.  You would never know it, and I have no evidence it exists.  But the writing I could do to "cover" these concerts would surely be my best work.  If only I'd had paper, or taken the time to stop singing along and record some thoughts on the symbolism, set list and scenery.  But then I'd miss that drum solo...
5. People watching.  Hello!  So many lesbian make outs at Lilith Fair!  The most ridiculous parrot head costumes that you'll see in a couple hours on the Parrot Head fan cam on the screen behind Jimmy Buffett.  The people too drunk to sing and too drunk to stop.  And for Ween in particular, the most ridiculous hippy/hipster dancing you can imagine.
6. Spending quality time with a life partner.  I have to admit, I don't really like much of Dave Matthews and Ben Harper's new music.  And sometimes I have to take a couple months or years of sabbatical from them.  But in the end, I always return to their sides.  Some songs, I can tell you for certain, will be in my life forever.  No one can take Live at Luther College away from me.  No one except for me knows who I'm longing for and mourning the loss of when "Ghost" crosses the playlist, but I'd like to think the Indigo Girls are right there with me.  So even though I've seen G. Love half a dozen times, I'm still going to show up to reconnect and spend some quality time with him before he heads to Fargo (seriously, who goes from Boise to Fargo and skips Seattle?!).
7. Dance, dance revolution.  Seriously, when else do you spend 3 straight hours dancing and singing?  Some would say at the club I suppose.  But if you know me at all you know how agitated I get waiting in line and paying to go to a glorified bar.  Not going to happen.  Plus, chances are, you're with likeminded people at the concert who are also in love, or at least interested in courting the artist on stage.  So I can jump up and down at a rock concert, sway at a slow jams show and get my groove on at hip hop shows.  And luckily, most people have their eyes on the stage so I can convince myself that I'm mostly being ignored...thankfully.

To those I've envied...

It can happen anywhere, at any given moment.  And you're especially prone if you enjoy people watching. The opportunity exists on tv, magazines, sidewalks, parties, and facebook.  Every where I go I find myself watching for clothes, pets, houses, cars and relationships that I would like.  You look at the context, the cues and the "results" and you think, "if I had more of ___ or less ____ I could have _____."  Some days, when I've spent WAY too much time perusing the electronic lives of others I get a really bad case of the "poor me's".  How can I not?  Just look at how much fun she is having on vacation and look how clever he is.  Look how cute they are together and what a nice job she has.

When you encounter someone that has that boyfriend that yours should learn from, or the apartment that I should move into, we make such a snap judgement on ourselves, and on them, that what they've got tops what we have.  I don't know about you but I am definitely prejudiced about these judgements.  I don't spend a lot of time trying to find the exceptions or the subtleties that might render my reality preferable.  Nope.  They're luckier, happier, better.  From the slightest comment or the one "telling" photo, I can conjure a whole biography of this lucky person.

So maybe that's a human condition.  Maybe we all tend towards envy.  So what?

Well today I'm thinking of those that I've envied whom I later changed my mind about.  These people stand out.  In particular the friends, or mutual acquaintances that you have over the years.  You know them well enough to have a pretty full picture of their life.  In a relationship for 4.5 years, two dogs, a condo on Capitol Hill and a degree from....  They may dress better than you or have more well-shaped opinions or whatever.  And you appreciate them while you envy them.

But then one day you get the call, or read the posting, or stumble into one of them alone in the grocery store.  And it becomes clear that she got laid off and he's dating a 19 year old and the whole world you had painted as their thumbnail is no longer...or never was.  Sometimes, these moments provide so much information that you learn that most of that thumbnail was just your own projections of what their life must be based off....what?  Their clothes?  Their soundbites?  Whatever it is that we base our value judgements on, the person that we've decided has it all and then some was really just like us all along.

Or maybe they weren't.  Maybe they didn't have it half as good as I do.  Why now am I just considering all that I have going for me?  Regardless, I am.  In the wake of another's tragedy I am reminded just how much I have to be thankful for.  Envy seems so silly!

How many times have you been appalled by the reality of someone you thought you knew?  I bet you've got a really awful story conjured up already.  People who personified what you view as normalcy until you found out about their parents, or their secret hobby.  Yes, I know it would be more exciting if I gave an example.  But honestly, you get the point.

So today I'm suggesting we stop being so hard on ourselves, and on our little corner of the world that we call our life.  Let's be proponents.  Don't feel guilty being honest about how amazing your dog really is (Burton's the very best and YOU know it :-) and how well your boyfriend treats you (every single day).  Not because it might make someone envious of me, but because my envy doesn't get to eat at me today.  Today I will instead be nourished by my own reality.  No hollywood actress gets to walk anonymously down the waterfront and slip quietly into a warm apartment that holds two creatures that think you're the coolest chic on the block.  No amount of designer clothing will beat the sweats and boyfriend T-shirts I'll relax in as I eat my 5 star dinner prepared by my A+ boyfriend.

Not only does this appreciation make me happier, it also enables me to bestow the appropriate appreciation on those in my life that make it such a wonderful place to be.  And I hope it's not too much of a stretch to hope that it makes those around me who find themselves in a less than ideal situation believe in the possibility of a better future.  Not out of envy, but hope.

My lil Jojo...

I have a Jojo.  Do you?

Jojo is a girl that I have "known" for the better part of a decade but didn't have the occasion to really know until I moved to the Eastside of Oly.  Thanks to friends of friends, we occasionally get the accidental introduction to someone whom fits so well into our lives that you wonder how it's possible that you've only been friends for a short time.

While it's only been a year, I can tell you volumes about my Jojo.  I won't.  I know she wouldn't approve.  So let's stick to the highlights...

First of all, I should confess that she's not actually my Jojo.  Just a brief perusal of her facebook page reveals that there are many who claim her as their own Jojo.  This tells me so much.  I may be her Sheabird.  And my dog is her Lil-bubble-gum-nosed-Burtie.  I could go on with her other petnames but you get the point.  Suffice it to say that we all love our Jojo and our petnames...and I'm not usually one for pet names.

Jojo loves.  Jojo gives.  Jojo feels.  And Jojo tells.  I always thought that I wore my heart on my sleeve.  I was wrong.  Jojo has shown me what that term actually means.  The honesty and pure, visceral, emotion that she wears openly not only impresses me but endears her to me.  How many of us can openly own up to our foibles?  What about those daily little reminders that to err is human?  Or those moments when humility is the only option?  Personally, these realities of the human experience tend to be the ones I fight hardest to hide.  Am I dishonest?  Nah.  Mostly just too prideful.  But Jojo appears fearless in her willingness to share these deeply human moments.  And it seems from the responses that are posted, that I'm not alone in the relief and wave of relatedness that others experience in her wake.

I'm thinking of this, and my Jojo, as I try to wrap my brain around what it is to blog.  How to blog openly and meaningfully while navigating those walls and fences?  How honest is it safe to be?  How much can I share without regretting it?  Am I dodging this curve ball by following the inclination to write about those I love best?  I guess the best answer I can hold up to these questions is that the people I'm hoping to showcase here are the ones who have taught me the most about myself.  For it is safe to say that most of my existence has been enriched, supported and illuminated at the hands of those whom have shared themselves with me.

Jojo came into my life just weeks after it last imploded on itself.  I was still in the throws of an unmarried-divorce, unpacking in my tiny hole of an apartment.  I was still giving myself license to burn the candle at both ends as I worked and drank myself through the wreckage and reconstruction.  So it was that I had my first girls' night with her and our mutual friend, Janelle.  At first I figured it was the jager bomb that was loosening my lips as we had those initial conversations.  Now I know it was just the comfort that I feel in sharing the worst and best parts of my life with her.

Over the proceeding months I was fortunate to have a Jojo to sit with me on a broke-down balcony overlooking a parking lot, or in a kiddy pool in the front yard or in a booth at a downtown bar, and sift through the bits and pieces of our past and present to try to determine how in the hell we both got here and where the fuck we wanted to go next.

It wasn't purposefully or perfectly synchronized, but we both ended up taking flight near the end of that long year.  Unfortunately for me, she went South while I went North...literally, not figuratively :-)

There are only a couple people I miss in Oly and she is definitely one of them, although she no longer resides there.  But I now have the distinct pleasure of watching electronically as she takes flight.  I hope that she knows that while this Sheabird, and many other petnamed-pals are aching for her presence, that we all are first and foremost cheering and pushing her forward.  After many years of being the anchor for so many, she is now sailing on unknown seas.  And I've been there...haven't you?  It's scary as hell and every day is torturous and spine-tinglingly exciting.

I hope that the heart she's carrying on that sleeve of hers is able to absorb all that's bombarding it while protecting her just enough to keep her sweet, happy and honest.  Because wherever she may go, we all still need to know our lil Jojo is there.