A Little Bit of...Writer's Encouragement from the Past

I'm currently packing up all my things (once again) and moving across town.  The most beneficial part of packing, I find is going through all of the "stuff" I have accumulated over the years and rationalizing whether or not I really need to keep it.  As a historian - or so I've made this point before - I have difficulty parting with the media of my past.  Yes, you may call me a hoarder for that!  But, I don't think there's much wrong with being nostalgic for certain things from our past.  A prime example of this is my writing assignments from elementary and junior high.  As I sorted through a three-ring binder filled with schoolwork circa 1990-2001, I realized that I truly had talent as a young writer.  Where it went, I am currently on the search for...

I have a shady memory. Discussing a recent weekend, a friend asked if I had truly been drunk enough to blackout.  "No, I never blackout," I told her.  "But I have a bad memory as it is...and sometimes I chose not to remember a lot of what has happened, whether or sober or not." I feel this applies to my childhood quite profoundly.  Thus the necessity for continuing to keep so much more of the artwork from that time of my life.  The rest of the memories - the people, the places, the situations, embarassing moments - can be forgotten, reminisced over with the friends those people have become in my life, again, revisitted, and re-friended based on who they are now rather than who they were back then.

I do have a fairly functional memory for songs, though, and this is one that always makes me tap my foot.  In grade nine, I wrote a report drugs and Hollywood.  Like many blossoming teenagers in small towns with nothing else to do, I was obsessed with learning as much as I could about show biz.  As I became more involved with doing too many other things with my life, this obsession faded.  This song marks the hallmark of my obsession with Hollywood.  It was re-worded from Lou Bega's hit at the time: Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit of...).  Whenever I hear the song today, I am taken back to the Health classroom (our junior high theatre), half of the girls in my grade nine year (as we had to be separated for Health/Gym class at that age) and the accolades I received for standing in front of them all, just singing as best as I terribly could.  I was like Weird Al Yankovic, but way way cooler ;-) ... and he was pretty cool back then!

Several months ago - perhaps even years - I tried to find the version of the song that I had written.  It was only tonight, looking through an old old box that I finally found it!  So, I thought I would share it...

I really hope you remember how this song goes.  If not, open this link in a separate window and read the lyrics to the rhythm...

Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit of...)


One, two, three, four, five
Every one in show biz, says "Let's get high!"
Get the time, on probation, it's all right
Tool man says he got some if you want it
But really don't wanna
Big bust like he did in seventy eight
He must stay clean 'cause cops are keen
Just like Dreyfuss, Downey, Demi and Rio
And as I continue, you know they're getting stronger
So what do they do, I really beg you, my Lord
To them smokin' is part of a role
Any deal does, it's all good, let them dunk it
If they want it with a crumpet...

A little bit of cocaine in their life
A litte bit of heroine by their side
A litte bit of alcohol is all they need
A litte bit of drugs is what I see
A litte bit of smokin' in the sun
A litte bit of parties all night long
A litte bit of death, here I am
A litte bit of drugs makes you their man

Rain Pryor was a druggie and now helps teens
Demi in the eighties wasn't keen
Recently the same is Charlie Sheen
Ben Afleck's dad and Rachel Leigh Cook
Get the message across without being shook
Clap your hands once and clap your hands twice
'Cause it looks like some peeps are doin' it right

A little bit of River lost his life
A little bit of Belushi on the other side
A litte bit of Bowie got all he'd need
A litte bit of Feldman in the nineties
A litte bit of Freddie's dad is gone
A litte bit of Presley and his songs
A litte bit of Barrymore and her dad
A litte bit of help keeps it a fad.

Some do all to keep away from drugs - P.U.!
They can't run and they can't hide
Most celebs just wanna touch the sky!

A little bit of Elvis in my life
A little bit of Corey by my side
A litte bit of Phoenix is all I need
A litte bit of Charlie is what I see
A litte bit of Rob Lowe in the sun
A litte bit of Farley all night long
A litte bit of David Bowie, here I am
A litte bit of drugs give lessons to them all.

Juggling

"Five jobs?"
"Yep."
"Five?!?"
"Yeah, still hasn't changed."
"How do you do it?"
"Oh, well, you know, I like to keep several balls in the air, switching from one thing to the next as often as I can. It helps inspire me ..."

BULL$#%&!

This is my life right now.  A few months ago, I actually took the time to count how many different forms of employment I was keeping and realized that it was legitimately five.  Three of them are working independently for myself, which I call the "soul jobs"; one of them is no longer in the picture; and the fifth is a laid back serving gig that brings me into contact with a lot of interesting individuals who are helping me grow and become a stronger artist.  Sadly, that growth becomes addictive, the lure of the actual paycheques keeps me focused on only the money-making jobs, and my real ticket out of this life of juggling gets lost beneath a desk overflowing with papers from the "In" basket.

I came home tonight with the thought of starting to pack - a moving-into-a-cheaper-place chore my lack of a genuine income produces - but ended up baking for a fundraiser tomorrow: just another "growth" task I've decided to take on! As I finished washing the dishes from that task, I realized what I'm doing to myself...I'm procrastinating my way into failing as a writer!?!

So, instead of turning on some music to numb my soul while I begin the arduous, yet enjoyable task of sorting through my things and preparing to start a new life again, I opened up the laptop, typed away at the keys and put in a half hour's work at job five of five.  One day, I know, that will be job number one...but until then, I just gotta keep writing.  Even if it means putting down the other four balls for a moment to catch my breathe.

Weekly Inspirational Quote

"What we earnestly aspire to be, that in some sense we are."
~ Anna Jameson

Defining The Quarter Life Crisis

I've been working on this one for a little bit, so I apologize in the delay...

I was at a party the other night, and I was asked what I do now that I've left the bank. After answering that question a few times prior to the party, I jumped right in with the fact that I am blogging. The music blog is the easiest one to understand, but I couldn't leave out this one. This is more of your traditional blog - sub-regular rants on life, getting older, and the difficulties of merely being alive and having emotions - yet it is the one that I talk the least about. So, standing in front of a dozen or so people, I began my explanation...

This blog was actually the beginning of it all. Well, no, that's not entirely correct. The first one was supposed to be about my travels in England, but that didn't pan out. So, then, when I got back I started this one. Remember, two years ago when I faced the possibility of being 100% unemployed for like six weeks? That I would like to mark as the beginning of the crisis. (...although truthfully, I wasn't all too rational in my decision to move to England, either,... I guess I'll just leave it up to future analysts of my autobiography...)

After running through a quick list of what I am doing as a writer (and the side jobs, as well), the party broke down into smaller groups. This is always ideal. I hate parties where everybody tries to talk to one another and you just sit around in a big circle pretending to all care about the same subject matter. I never connect well with a large group of strangers, but I hit it off BIG TIME one-on-one with new friends. (My friend would later thank me for bridging the gap between her different groups of friends, which I took as a huge compliment. I love meeting new people, so I love going to parties where I have the opportunity to do exactly as I did there. It was nice that my skill was appreciated. AND, if you're ever throwing a mixer with a wide array of people, you know who to call!)

As several conversations erupted, I found myself at the corner of the buffet table, talking to a scientist. He seemed interested in my blogs, and we began talking about this one. I went through a brief history of it, and he seemed confused. "What do you mean by 'Quarter Life Crisis'?"

"Well," I began. "You know how people, when they're in their late forties, early fifties and they suddenly change careers or start dating somebody half their age?"

His confusion did not seem to be lessening, so I continued.

"Well, I'm too young to be doing that!" (I paused for a laugh, but there was none...) "...but, well, I think there is this common feeling among people of our generation, you know, that are in their twenties and faced with similar concerns about their life. They start asking themselves, 'is this REALLY what I want to do for the next forty or fifty years?'; 'will I be happy with this decision five years from now?'; or sometimes even, 'why haven't I accomplished that yet?!?' These are all valid concerns, and, I've found that writing about it makes me feel better. And my readers, when they comment, are going through the same things."

He still looked confused, so I paused to let it sink in.

"What does 'Quarter' mean?"

My new friend's first language was not English, and, like always, I had answered the question of my own agenda rather than the real question. (Does anybody see Being a Better Listener on my New Year's Resolution list?)

My explanation got me thinking, and, as it turns out, when I dwell on a question, it turns up in a lot of my conversations. Later that week, I was talking to a customer at work and discovered that he had been going through a similar situation for the last few years. Unlike myself (who ran kicking and screaming from the institution of higher learning after they handed me a piece of paper covered in calligraphy), this new friend had hid from his fears through school and travel. I was a bit jealous... The real world is actually a terrible place to hide from one's uncertainty about the future. I felt better knowing that he was going to graduate this spring without any better understanding of what he should be doing with his life than what I have. And he's in the Scared Stage. I'd never want to go back to the Scared Stage!

The problem, I think, is that we have so many decisions in front of us. Normally, I discuss this with my fellow females since we have the feminism of the 80s to thank for our decision-making problems. Sure, women could do whatever they wanted to before the 80s, but now there's even more pressure for us to choose not only whatever it is that men did before us, but to be HAPPY with our choice. And it's not even about choosing not to have babies or to have babies (trust me, with this war on right now, I'm definitely feeling the embracing of the latter over the former!). We can even choose to have babies and have partners who stay home to raise them. In fact, it's almost like our choices SHOULD be more original. The last few generations have sent so many shockwaves through the history books that there is this tiny little bit of pressure resting on the shoulders of all womankind to do something even greater with our lives. We all should aspire to be the next Oprah...

I apologise for the helter skelter of that rant. I've been holding in it for a few days, now. You see, over the holidays, I brought up Rosie the Rivetter, and how she has an action figure created after her. I love it. I love Rosie the Rivetter! When I brought her up, though, there was a conversation about how much the campaign she represented helped get women into the work force. I won't deny that the campaigns to get women to work during the war were impressive, and widespread enough to convince even the most conservative individuals in the far corners of this country to consider allowing women to do the hard labour of the men they had sent off to fight without being too concerned about that woman's children, or her 'delicate nature.'

It wasn't the beginning of feminism, though, nor was it the end. The post-war emphasis on family and motherhood certainly sent a vast majority of those women packing from the factories back to their pantries. The celebration of suburbia only continued that trend, making motherhood once again an issue of class moreso than a natural power to be proud of. (If you could afford to have children and not have the wife work as well, you were of the middle class or above.) Then came the pill, and more and more women could postpone their baby-having days to build a career. Some "spinsters" (women who never marry) were even truly successful in the careers that came their way due to the civil rights movements of the 60s.

Then, well, we can't forget the Sexual Revolution; if only because that makes us believe that Britney Spears is being really powerful when she pouts just a little bit and 'allows' her lover to physically abuse her. (If you don't understand, just ask, and I'll break it down for you.) After the sexually-charged 70's, though, we are faced with the 80's, where Dolly Pardon bemoans working a full-time job, Cyndi Lauper claims "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," and, okay, maybe we should blame Madonna - just a little bit - for what we've allowed Britney Spears to get away with...

Except that, Madonna had class. Dolly Pardon had pride. And Cyndi Lauper was filthy rich! They may not have been pressuring women to get into the workforce, but they didn't have to. Women coming of age at this time had known their entire lives that they could do ANYTHING they wanted to when they grew up. And they did! Yeah, yeah, I know there's still a glass ceiling, and there's still social taboos that need to be kicked out of the office buildings women are now dominating,... but that leaves us with a lot to live up to!

Now do you understand why I had to give up the feminist cause for something that needed more work? I'm a bit terrified of what my foremothers expect from me...

Don't worry, I know it's difficult for men, too. All those girls who were told they could do anything grew up alongside those boys that weren't told anything about the future. Hmmmm....yeah, I guess it could be worse. I could have had that plan that had been given to my gender for the last few generations ripped from my hands by some scary spinsters, had it split in half and only be given back the top part of it. If I thought reaching that glass ceiling was going to be tough, imagine what life would be like if that's where I was meant to start!

Don't worry, I explained what a 'quarter' was to my new friend...