A quote. It suits me for today. A rallying cry, I think.
“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too; “
— If: A Father’s Advice to His Son by Rudyard Kipling
Read the rest here.
Several years ago, I used to date a musician. We’ll call those “the dark years.” He was the real deal, taught himself to play, had the “gift,” was making a living (such that it was) playing music.
We would often have debates. He was a true music guy. I, on the other hand, am a fan of words.
He often told me that it was the music that mattered. The words were just something that floated on top. It didn’t matter if they were there.
Obviously, this ticked me off.
Over time, I learned to appreciate more of the nuances to music. How a driving drumbeat could make an otherwise dull song into a moving tune. How one hamfisted musician could ruin a whole piece. How the sounds tell a story that the musician weaves together.
He never, however, learned to appreciate the words.
I used to say that even the cheesiest song in the world could offer up some value, some deeply meaningful bit of emotion or philosophy or declaration. I even gave examples. He would reluctantly agree that the words I’d quoted had meaning, but not in the context of a song.
I got to thinking about this again today while listening to my iPod. Thinking about how seemingly throwaway songs can actually yield something meaningful tucked away in the lyrics.
The song that got me going was The Spinners classic “Working My Way Back to You” (originally a Frankie Valli song).
The lyric that “gets me” is this:
“I used to love to make you cry/It made me feel like a man inside/
But if I’d been a man in reality/You’d still be here, baby, lovin me”
No doubt The Spinners knew how to lay down an amazing groove, but this pop-y hit song speaks of redemption. The guy had a great girl, he “ran around like I was free”, then was *shocked* when she got self-respect and left him. He realized he’d blown it BIG time.
Those words, that lyric I quoted, is a really great turn of phrase. It shows a depth of self-awareness rarely seen in top 40 hits.
Those words, to me, make the song. I listen to the funky beat line, but I *wait* for those lyrics. They make me feel something.
I’ve got plenty more examples. Watch me work!
Here we go, the most bubblegum of pop tunes, Britney Spears’, “Baby One More Time.” Not the most musically interesting song, but well produced.
Don’t think about the song, the bouncy music, just read:
“My loneliness is killing me/And I must confess/I still believe/
When I’m not with you lose my mind”
Once again, a song of “didn’t know what I got until it was gone.” Earlier the song talks about “I shouldn’t have let you go” and now the narrator is alone and missing the one they took for granted.
In reading the words, I can feel the regret. Who among us hasn’t left someone behind only to find themselves all alone and losing their mind a little bit about “what might have been?”
See what I’m saying? The words have meaning!
Ok, I went to Billboard’s Top 100. Number one song right now is “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas.
Pfew…this one might be tough. Not all songs have a redeeming lyric, but most do. Let me think on this….
To be fair, this song IS a lot about the sounds. About the tones that Will.i.am can put together so well.
But there is a message there…go with me on this.
“I like that boom boom pow/Them chickens jackin’ my style/They try copy my swagger/I’m on that next shit now”
Sure, it’s a brag, but it’s also true. Since the success of the Black Eyed Peas, there are a TON of imposters trying to work Will.i.am’s style. He’s reminding us that while people are mimicking the last thing he did, he’s onto the next thing. He’s a trendsetter, not a follower. He’s ahead of the curve and a not so subtle reminder to people to remember the original.
It makes me feel like he’s frustrated trying to be an original while everyone falls in behind trying to take what he made. As an artist, I completely get that.
Whew, ok, that one was tough. But I got there.
I could go on with examples all day. I guess that music matters to me so much, but everyone enjoys music for different reasons. I think that anyone who can write lyrics is, in their own way, a poet and a philosopher. The meaning shouldn’t be discounted just because a song is viewed as too pop or too cheesy or too whatever.
I think both the words and the music matter, but as a writer, I can zoom in on a well-turned bit of phrase and feel like I’m in the flow.
When an artist can make someone feel, feel something, anything, whatever emotion, then I believe they have succeeded.
The very heart of creating.
I rest my case.
But in a good way.
Had the opportunity today to go to a “town hall” with the new VP of my group.
Due to the merger with another, larger, company, things sure are changing.
The old VP (who has since left the company) was very straight laced, serious and business-head only.
This new VP, in reference to the changes we are going through and the fact that it is unpleasant said…
“It’s like that old joke…how do you eat sh*t?………very, very fast.”
We were all startled. I think it was a several moment pause before we laughed.
New guy curses a lot. He’s got that engineer sense of humor. And he seems really on top of his game. And he has a potty mouth!
Well ok! I can hang with that. To be honest, that being all serious and business-head was really hard for me to manage!
%$#*!!!
While getting ready for work this morning, The Feline was busting my chops. She likes to do this, especially when I’m tired and groggy at oh-dark-thirty in the morning.
Sometimes I humor the animal (or, er, myself) and have a “conversation.” It goes something like this:
_______________
Feline: Meow!
Me: What’s that you say?
Feline: Meow!
Me: Constantinople? Really?
Feline: Meeeow!
Me: Met at the bazaar? You know, they don’t even call it Constantinople any more. You’re so old fashioned.
Feline: Meow!
_______________
That is but one example.
So this morning, The Feline and I engaged in another of our lengthy conversations. Here’s the rough transcript:
_______________
Feline: MEOW!
Me: Had a bad dream, huh? Sorry to hear it.
Feline: Meow
Me: Maybe you should try cutting the kibble ration and sleeping less?
Feline: Meow!
Me: That’s interesting. You know they say a dream about eating fish means many conflicting things. Could be attachment issues.
Feline: Meow!
_______________
It was then that I thought to myself, “Hey, I could do that whole Pet Psychic routine. This is easy!”
Why did my brain drift over to “Pet Psychic?”
I’ll tell you why.
Recently, I pitched a literary agent about my latest work. Last week, I got feedback from the agent. He said (in not so many words) that a main plot point of my story wasn’t entirely plausible.
I found that odd, since that plot point was something that had actually happened in my life (“write what you know!”).
But ok, I took his very professional feedback to heart (maybe too much to heart, if you were to ask The Good Man).
With that in mind, I went to the library to check out items in the “new fiction” section to see what IS plausible enough to get published these days.
That’s where I found this gem.
“Pet psychic, radio host, four-time widow, and dedicated rescuer of distressed animals, Mary Catherine rushes in to help a turtle stranded in a house, only to stumble over a body. With the rescued turtle as the only witness, MC works with the initially skeptical police to discover the real murderer.”
Unh huh. So a pet psychic getting the eyewitness account from a turtle IS plausible enough to be published?
Ooookaaay.
And the clincher from the book jacket:
“Includes recipes for pet treats!”
Well there you have it.
The Feline remains non-plussed.
I remember that day. St. Paddy’s Day, 2007. Yes, a magical day by all accounts.
No leprechauns leaped. No green beer was guzzled. No four-leaf clovers were molested.
But I did have the luck of the Irish : wink :
It was on this date, two years ago, that Oh Fair New Mexico breathed its first blog post.
It was The Good Man who first suggested the theme for my blog. He went with the “write what you know” angle, and it worked. Ok, more often than not, this blog is my personal ramblings and not really NM related, but that’s ok too. I took the idea and ran with it, as they say.
I’d wanted to write a blog for the discipline of writing something every day. I wanted more than an extensive journal rat-a-tapped in Word and kept on my hard drive. I wanted a place to publicly air my thoughts and twisted ideas.
I remember in the beginning, I timidly sent Avelino Maestas an email asking for advice. His blog seemed so freaking cool, what with his gorgeous photographs interspersed with is his witty, smart writing. I had NO idea how to blog, and Avelino very kindly gave me some pointers and encouragement and then out of the nest I fell to test my own ideas.
So here I am at 532 blog posts later and I think my wings are getting a bit stronger.
My work as a writer has increased IMMENSELY because of the discipline of writing this blog every weekday. Some days I cramp up for ideas and then I force myself to write something anyway, even if it’s terrible. Some days, I have more ideas than I can put down in writing.
Often, my loving husband (who was but a boyfriend when this whole thing began) will say, “I can’t believe you blogged about that” (most recent example was about the toilets at a restaurant we visited).
Occasionally I have blogged about something that hits me on a very deep emotional level, and I know that maybe no one wants to hear me, but I have to say it anyway.
Once or twice I’ve even gotten political.
My most popular post thus far caught me off guard. I wrote it for me, the melancholy of a NM ex-pat longing for home at the holidays. But it evidently struck a chord with some of the folks back home, too.
So I continue on with my blog. It’s for me. It’s for you. It’s for New Mexico. Each year I go through the agony of missing where I come from and reconciling to where I live now. The ebb and flow of life.
For all the folks who give me a read now and then, thank you. I actually cannot properly express my gratitude. As someone trying very hard to make a go as a writer, any pair of eyes on anything I write is a genuine gift.
I realize that these sort of blogiversary posts are rather self-congratulatory. Heck, in the midst of all the rejection letters I get from publishers..if I don’t pat my ownself on the back, who else is gonna do it for me?
By the way…The Good Man has promised me a dinner at a really nice restaurant when I get 100 visitors in one day on this blog. The closest I’ve come is 88. So my goal in the third year of blogging is to finally collect on that dinner! I know ya’ll can help me with my cause!
Meanwhile, Oh Fair New Mexico, you still sing a song in my heart. You and me, we are one. Thanks for the inspiration and for my humble beginnings.
Cheers to the next 500 posts!
Photo by Karen Fayeth