“CLUSTER F**K”

“More, better, brighter, happier, more productive”
Radiohead

When I got sober in the winter of 1999, I promised myself fresh flowers for my home every week, to shop, and get anything I wanted at the natural food grocer, and try to realize a life long dream of making a record.  Now that my entire coffer wasn’t going to be handed over to King Alcohol, I could funnel my new, found funds over to another large entity, a corporate establishment that has conveniently popped up all over this country, like the coffee equivalent of Micky D’s who (I hate to admit) have amazing product. My husband has nicknamed our natural food dealer “Whole Paycheck”.

When I awoke yesterday to an entirely free Saturday, I had every intention of writing something, analyzing my record to see if I needed to add to, take away from, or just leave it the fuck alone as is, and mix it. I got up, and went directly to the computer (first mistake). I have been visiting Myspace like it’s some sort of oracle that will have further instructions for me on what to do next, some opportunity might be there waiting. I’m like this with the mail as well. My husband knows not to get the mail, it’s an “understanding” we have. He knows his wife very well, and is generous with me in so many silent ways.  There might be a check from someone, there might be an invitation, SOME VERY IMPORTANT piece of information may be awaiting me.

The other day in my email, a reporter from the Wall Street Journal wrote to me. My heart skipped, it’s, it’s …..THE MEDIA trying to contact ME! All my hard work, all my dreams about to take flight………..but no, the inquiry was not about me. I am humbled at every turn. The reporter was looking for one of my friends who write a wonderful blog called “Momshells”. It’s funny. Three women who live in “Swank County” (Marin), who have much disposable income, and see clearly the ridiculousness of it all! The blog possesses many moments of beauty…..Truth be told, I was stoked for them about the Wall Street inquiry.

I think the origin of this mail, and now email obsession, was born at around the age of 6. While riding my big wheel, with my best friend across the street, I caught a glimpse of something hanging from every mailbox as far as my eye could see. At closer inspection I saw that The Nabisco Company hung free samples of corn chips on every mailbox on our street.

Though I couldn’t read much of the bag, I recognized the Nabisco emblem to be the same as the Nilla Wafers in the cupboard. I knew the company was affiliated with treats, “ding, ding, ding” rang the treat alarm. I found, and still find free samples of anything to be thrilling. The little addict in me saw hanging treasure just waiting to be horded, counted, arranged and later consumed in private, away from all siblings, parents and kitties, though I knew we were going to have to be stealth on our chip thieving mission.

Upon even closer inspection, I saw that there were coupons, something my Mom could really use. Yeah, I’ll give my Mom all the coupons, I’ll tell her we just found them in the woods….in a bag….but I was 6, and not well schooled in the art of thievery, and I didn’t lie yet, so my friend and I began to pick them off one by one, eating, and disposing of all  evidence as we went along, inside of the mailbox’s we just hit. Ever since that day, I have been looking for miniature boxes if Tide, and free disposable hand wipes, along with that big check that’s coming any day now. The Publishers Clearing House also got me all riled up, all those free stamps! But Ed never came to my door.

Instead of forming a new blog entry, or doing my short morning meditation, and conversation with…..whatever is listening, (mistake #2)I went to see if I had received any BLOG COMMENTS (I am beginning to love them as much as snail mail). I attempted to try and edit some concert footage taken of me for use on my websights. (mistake #3)

Holy Lord, what a cluster fuck that was! This was something I KNEW not to go into alone, but like any good will full, ambitious, impatient, gal who is just about to release a record into the unknown, I decided I would just see if I could learn the program in a few minutes and do it my self. Holy delusional, glutton for punishment Batman! After
an hour, or four I called my 16 year old friend, who is a movie editing expert to see if he could save me from smashing my computer against the wall.

“Sure Aim, but I can’t come over till next weekend.”

Fuck.

I walked away…..momentarily, checked my mail, and email again. Nothing.

Double Fuck!

Like any good forgetful, insane, stubborn, apparent lover of self imposed torture…I tried again.

Let’s just say I got NOTHING accomplished. I ignored all red flags, tried to heave every roadblock out of the way…to no avail. I paid no attention to the fact that I was nowhere near the flow. The movie editing Gods were busy with someone else. Check in later when you are in a better place, when your 16 year old wizard is with you.

Yet another lesson in the art and craft of practicing patience. Not one of my strong suits.

On days like these I have to go back to the basics. Put on Naughty by Nature’s “Hip Hop Hooray”, (a fantastic feel better song) take a long walk up a big hill, call someone else and tell them that I am insane right now. Say no to the cool Reggae concert benefit my husband and I were invited to, and ask myself…Aim? What would be the best thing for you right now? The answer arose after a couple minutes of contemplation:

Send your man off to the show, to give his support, and to have a couple Red Stripes for the both of us.  Take those reusable “Whole Paycheck” grocery bags, and spend your Saturday night alone, browsing the aisles of a place so full of abundance, it can’t help but rub off. Get the rest of “Rescue Me” season four and “Gossip Girl” as back up. I’ll watch the entirety of just about ANYTHNG, I’m a whore with my DVD viewing. Light some candles, sit at your piano, and sing those songs you just recorded to the empty room. Listen for the songs yet to come through you. Do what you love doing, for simple sake of doing it. Eat an amazing dinner, while listening to Luscious Jackson’s “Fever In Fever Out” record. Love yourself in any way you need loving. End the night with what you had originally intended: write something, and that is just what I did. I adore having date’s with myself.

Attempting to live a life of quality, rather than quantity, to practice acceptance even when I am struck by instantaneous, and scorching cases of envy, impatience, or frustration that crop up like Herpes! (all forms of fear by the way) What I need to do is stop, and look at who, and what is around me. I am married to an exceptional human being, I work 18 hours a week at an incredible school, I got to make a record, we own our cars, I have a roof over my head, and a cupboard full of food. I live like a queen……Oh yeah, and I didn’t have a hangover this morning. Wow.

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