I've Got a Jones Like Norah...

Before I started cleaning my apartment today, I was searching my collection for a soothing, unobtrusive album to listen to. I started with Herbie Hancock. A classic. There are few things more perfect to me than good piano jazz, and Herbie is one of the best (see his performance at the 2008 Grammys).

When that album was over, I went searching again. I wanted something in the same vein. I own a lot of jazz records, but wasn't feeling like listening to sax or trumpet. Then I came to Norah Jones' second album, Feels Like Home. When I got the album (in 2004, when it came out), I didn't love it. There were a handful of tunes I was really into, but the album got shelved after a few listens, only to be brought out when I was in the mood to hear Creepin' In (the duet with Dolly).

Something made me put it on today. I can't believe I didn't love this album immediately. I am mad at myself for not falling for its not-so-subtle bluegrass sensibilities.

So now I have a new theory about this album (and some others): Sometimes you aren't ready for the music when it comes to you, and it will resurface when you are ready. It isn't that you aren't "in the mood" for something. It's that it really doesn't affect you until you are ready to let it. For whatever reason, 4 years ago, I didn't care about this album. I remember thinking to myself on the second or third listen "OK. What's the big deal?"

Now I get it.

You Think You Know Me Well (but...)

I am having to remind myself to interact with people lately. It’s not good. Most acquaintances’ problems and stories are the least interesting thing to me right now. I don’t want to hear about it. I possess all the makings of a hermit.

I have said it before- it is not the people around me who are the problem. It is definitely me. I am still compassionate and empathetic to people and their issues, I would just rather not be the one they come to.

For as long as I remember, I have been the one people come to for advice. Advice on pretty much anything, actually. Where should I go to dinner? What should I wear? How should I break up with her? Should I get back together with him? I have loved it. I do love it. I want to be the one people trust and respect enough to ask for opinions and advice. That said, I don’t want every single person I know to pick my brain every day. What is my favourite restaurant in Ottawa? I don’t really want to share that. It is trivial and silly and a little bit selfish, but can’t a person keep some things to herself every now and again?

In my experience, when you tell people these little things- preferences, etc.- they seem to think they know you. Knowing that I like an Italian restaurant does not mean that you know me. Knowing I am from Ottawa does not define me as a person. It adds to who I am, but it is not who I am. Asking me for insiders’ tips on the places I have lived will not make us closer. It will annoy me.

There are people who, no matter what they ask me to divulge, I will. I trust them with the information. More importantly, I trust that they know that not everything I tell them is some clear window into my personality.

What He Wanted

I found this on my computer while looking for something else I had written. This, more than anything else, has shown me how much my life, attitude....self, has changed in the past year. So much so, that it makes me feel awkward to read this.

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He took what he wanted and left. There was nothing else, after a year of friendship, for him to extract from knowing me.

I invested so much of my time and energy and emotions into getting to know him. Sacrificed so much of my time and energy and emotions into getting him to see what I had wanted him to see, instead of laying it all on the table and saying 'take it or leave it'.

In the beginning, it was fun. It was a fresh start in a new city. I could be whatever I wanted to be, and what I wanted to be was myself. I just hadn't considered that that wouldn't be enough for him. That should have mattered, but it didn't.

I should have known from the beginning. Each and every time we met for any reason, he was late. Should the red flag have been that he didn't care enough about me to show me the respect to show up on time? I didn't think it was a tall order. And, of course, I let it slide. At that point, I'd rather have had him late than not at all.

Almost a year into knowing one another, he kissed me. It was something that I had wanted for so long, that I found myself overwhelmed by these feelings of relief and happiness and confusion. I wanted him. I wanted him to feel the things I felt. I wanted a relationship. I wanted his attention. I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. I didn't stop to think that what I wanted was not at all in the same vein as what he wanted. He wanted physical contact. He wanted to feel needed. He wanted to know that a woman could want him more than he wanted her. He wanted validation.

I was left in the wake of his emotional disaster. He didn't realize what he had done until after it had happened. As women, even one kiss can progress the relationship so far forward that the men are often the ones left behind. He came back with apologies and explanations that meant nothing to me. I heard them, but didn't accept them. After all, you can't accept what you don't believe. The apology wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't the gesture.

After the kiss, there was nothing left of mine for him to take, he just hasn't realized it. He doesn't want to resolve himself to the fact that I don't need his attention anymore. I am sick of being present and accessible and not getting the same thing in return.

So now I'm wondering to myself, did he take what he wanted and leave when there was nothing more to take? Or did I not get what I wanted and leave when he had nothing more to give?

In No Particular Order...

There are a few songs that, no matter how many times I’ve heard them, I simply cannot skip over.

The songs vary in huge ways. Different genres, artists, styles, tones, topics. Whatever it is that makes me stop and listen, every single time, I couldn’t tell you.

I have a friend from college, an incredible musician, who could never skip over a song or stop it dead. If he wanted to skip, he’d fade out the volume then skip. If he was turning off his stereo, he’d fade out the volume and hit stop. His explanation was that every song and artist deserved the respect of not being cut off.

I’m not that serious about it. I will skip 20 songs in a row on those days when iTunes – always on random - isn’t reading my mind (which I’m convinced it does sometimes).

One of my favourite things to do with iTunes is to select artists and albums to create a mix for the day, based on my mood. Very rarely will I just let all the artists and albums play through on random.

I did today. All artists. All albums. The very eclectic 1366 songs. Just play.

Of the songs that are on my iTunes at work, these are the top 22 I can never skip, in no particular order. Why 22? I cut the list down from about 35, and these are the ones I absolutely refused to remove.

Lesson Learned- Alicia Keys feat. John Mayer
Keep it Loose, Keep it Tight- Amos Lee
Part II- Brad Paisley
So Small- Carrie Underwood
Go- Common feat. John Mayer
Like A Star- Corrine Bailey Rae
Stay Away- Dave Barnes
Sophisticated Lady- Ella
If I Were Your Woman- Gladys Knight
Steamroller- James Taylor
Frontin’- Jamie Cullum
99 Problems- Jay-Z
Little Wing- Jimi
I’m Old Fashioned- Coltrane
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room- John Mayer
Back To You- John Mayer
Through The Wire- Kanye
Diamonds From Sierra Leone- Kanye
French Café- Marc Broussard
Heavenly Day- Patty Griffin
Kwah/Home- RH Factor feat. Anthony Hamilton
Uptight (Everything’s Alright)- Stevie

This is quite possibly the most manic and disjointed playlist ever. If we're using the High Fidelity rule of mixtapes, John Cusack would not approve.

The Toaster Theory

It’s Valentine’s Day. The single girl’s least favourite day of the year, by most accounts. Everywhere I look today, it seems there are tools intended to make people feel more at ease with their single-dom (I admit I just made that word up). The Internet is flooded with Valentine’s Day-specific content. So far, I have seen the following- ‘Valentine’s Day Movie Ideas for Singles’ and ‘Best Anti-Valentine's Day 'I Hate Love' Songs’.

Now, since I’m a sucker for lists, I did read them. I didn’t agree with all the choices, and of course there are a lot of movies I’d watch on Valentine’s Day instead of Titanic. And how stock a pick is ‘Love Hurts’? I mean, at least put some thought into it!

If anything, I think the single people on Valentine’s Day are forced into feeling terrible by what the attached people project onto them. “Poor you, alone on Valentine’s”. I am alone the other 365 (366 in a leap year) days. No one pities me then – I don’t think – so don’t pity me now.

I’ve always thought Valentine’s to be completely ridiculous. Even as a child, I resented every moment of gluing foam hearts on a brown paper bag to hang from my desk, and getting the class list to write out Little Mermaid valentines to drop in my classmates' decorated paper bags. I’ll wear red on any day of the year other than Valentine’s Day. I got cards in the mail from my mom and dad and my sister. That’s all the love I need right now.

Sound bitter? It really shouldn’t. I’m just not into anything with this much hype (New Year’s, Halloween…). Is Valentine’s a complete ‘Hallmark Holiday’? Probably, but Hallmark can’t survive on birthday cards alone. Have I ever been in a relationship over Valentine’s Day? No. Do I care? No. The clichĂ© is that every day, you should express your love and admiration for the person you’re with. No one I know needs cinnamon hearts do that on a daily basis.

Surprisingly enough, I’m not depressed, angry, or really affected at all by today, other than being inspired to write this.

Truth is, I’m in a great mood. I am comfortable with myself and the fact that I am single. I am not listening to the family members who say, “You don’t need one of those [a boyfriend] anyway.” As a friend of mine would say, “it’s not a fucking toaster.” Eventually I will have ‘one of those’ – a boyfriend, not a toaster - and I’m sure I’ll still have the same outlook on February 14.

I don’t need a 'special someone' in my life to tell me how wonderful I am one day a year. I can tell myself that any time I feel like it. That sounds conceited, but it isn’t. There is a huge difference between megalomania and self-assuredness. I am far from thinking I am perfect; I know I’m not. But I am content with who I am, who I have been, who I am becoming, and where I am coming from to get there.

Since when is loving yourself not enough? Maybe they should make candy hearts with sayings like, “I love me” on them, (though I just read an article on the impact of candy hearts on the environment, and the reasons we shouldn’t eat them...want to bet the scientist who did that study was single?)

Embrace Your Inconveniences

Sometimes I can't sleep. I go through random bouts of insomnia; sometimes for no reason, but more often than not, it is stress related. For the longest time, I would just lay awake and, to be honest, cry about how I couldn't sleep. I tried everything I could think of to get myself to sleep, to no avail.

Just recently, I went through a week long spell in which I got roughly 20 hours of sleep over the 7 day period. The first night was spent the same way it always was- tossing and turning, cursing whatever was keeping me from dreaming. Then I came to the conclusion that if I wasn't going to be sleeping, I should be doing something productive with my time. I caught up on reading, wrote, organized my closet, rediscovered albums in my library that I hadn't listened to in years. I was still exhausted during the day, but had a strange sense of accomplishment. I had done the things I had wanted to, but couldn't find time to do during daylight.

Life throws you inconveniences. There is no way of avoiding them. It is all in how you deal with what is given to you. I believe, with evidence, that it is in our nature to sidestep the messes we are dealt, as opposed to facing them head on. Why spend time trying to clean up something we have no control over? However, giving these problems the brush off generally only makes them bigger, or brings on new, different things we have to deal with. We often chalk these situations up to fate and do the bare minimum required to stave off potential disasters; hold our breath until the next problem surfaces. But, the more we accept these inconveniences as fate, the less we try to fix them.

Conversely, as these things happen, they will always seem like the worst thing at the worst time. Obviously, this can't possibly be true. We make situations worse by putting more energy into them- and usually not the right kind. There are things that require our attention, but is it really worth it to spend a half hour of your day- or more, for some- reliving the problem? I know I'm guilty of this (though not as guilty as a lot of people I know), and that some days you just need to vent. But, when does venting stop being therapy and begin being wasted energy? Why do we feel the need to drag others into our problems? Chances are, they are dealing with their own.

I don't want embracing to be misconstrued as simple optimism- that's not what I'm saying (those who know me, know I'm no optimist). I just mean that sometimes life's detours can lead you through some beautiful scenery, or change the destination altogether. It's up to you whether you choose to see it. Do I think that every change is for the best? No. Do I think that changes come when you least expect them? Sometimes. Sometimes the change comes when you need it most, and didn't know you did. Embrace it.

Places To Go

Somehow, even though it still fills at least half my day, I miss music. I physically feel like I can't possibly have enough time with it. Even when I am listening or playing, it's like I can't get to the next song quickly enough. I can't wait to hear the words and feel the chords and what the next person or song has to express.

I think it is the only thing I love. I hear lines and songs and intricacies I wish I had (or could) come up with. I think anyone who creates anything feels that. The longing to be better at what you love, as if you owe it to the art itself to do it justice. In futility, your failure to be perfect shapes what you become, what you create. I'm sure well over half the music I listen to on a daily basis, the artist would like to have back for a couple days. Adding lines, changing a word, adding a riff. It blows my mind to think that music is never a finished product. Even the people I think are brilliant, hear music and think the same thing I do, "I have so many more places to go."

There comes a point in the creative process when it becomes less about what you need to say, and more about doing right by thought- the one that made you grab the pen in the first place. You put words on the page and then you need to come up with the perfect melody. The melody that sounds like the words. The melody that showcases the words. And vice versa. You come up with a melody, and putting the wrong words to it can make it sound terrible. The hard part is to not abandon the thought when things start going sideways. I have a theory that if something is that easy to abandon, it never meant that much to you in the first place. It may be part of a bigger feeling- the path that gets you to where you need to be.

The greatest frustration in writing comes from not getting what you think you want out of it, which isn't the point at all.