Open Your Eyes…

It’s astounding to realize that something I was supposed to do regularly seems to have fallen off the face of the earth and I’ve only just now gotten back to it.

I created this blog what seems like eons ago and two years has passed since I gave it a thought but as the title here says, so much time can change so much.  Friendships begin, sometimes end, or change for the better.  Lives become upended by something as tiny as two pink lines on a white plastic stick.   People grow, change, come into your life, you lose jobs, find new ones, buy cars, pay bills and somewhere in the midst of all the chaos, you find beauty and if you’re lucky, sometimes stumble into just sheer happiness.  The only thing is…. you have to work to keep it there.

I’ve learned that the past two years and I’ve grown to where the work doesn’t feel like work, it’s the easy as breathing day to day ins and outs of my family.  Sure there are still bills, cars still break, we still get sick and the dishes still need to be done, but atop all the minutiae is a genuine calm and comfort that I am where I belong.

It was over two years ago now that mine and my husbands world was upended by what I mentioned earlier, two pink lines on a white plastic stick.  A couple of hyperventilating phone calls and one doctors appointment later and the world began to spin… we were starting a family.  This was truly a revelation from two people who had decided that having children wasn’t a necessity, it wasn’t out of the cards but it also wasn’t squarely in them either, we’d have been happy together with our cats.  Fast forward from that day to now and I can’t fathom why it wasn’t a necessity, our daughter, our colorful, sometimes crazy but altogether adorable daughter is such a bright spot in this house that I can’t see it without her.

I won’t wax poetic and swear that pregnancy was a magical experience that I want to experience five times over… it’s not.  Pregnancy, for me at least, was riddled with aches, pains, nausea, bleeding, a stomach virus and mood swings that made me (as well as my husband) question my sanity.  And those who say that having a child is expensive? Believe me that’s not anything close to a joke, but on the other hand when there is this tiny little person growing inside you, money suddenly seems the least of the worry.  All you know is you need a crib and it doesn’t so much matter how much it costs, you just want he or she to be safe.

There are two small portions of pregnancy I would repeat, the first being the initial ultrasound, if you thought the world spun after you saw the white plastic stick.  It’s nothing next to the sound of a heartbeat filling the exam room you’re in, if it wasn’t real before… it is now.  The second is a few months down the road yet, but kicking and movement, I loved those.  For a scant amount of time, she was only mine. She danced in my belly to Maroon 5 (yes, I’m serious), would headbutt my hand while I watched tv and sort of calmly swim about when I was lying in bed.  For the entire length of my pregnancy, only my husband ever felt her move, she did it for no one but us.

8 months, a week in the NICU and seven more weeks saw us being working parents, trading shifts of who had our daughter, sending her to grandparents while we worked the weekends and still it seems like we missed nothing.  We were there for the rolling over, the sitting up, the first tooth, every doctors visit, first steps, smiles, laughs, each moment sending a giddy rush of adrenaline when she does something new.

Now, at 19 months old, she’s wrecking the house, running, laughing, has a full set of teeth, completely soaks the bathroom at bathtime, chases the cats, turns off the Playstation, empties the shelves of DVDs, grows out of clothes faster than they can be bought but it’s still a breathtaking experience to watch her.  She learns shapes, words, hand gestures, gives hugs and kisses, she dances happily, sings scales with her Daddy, waves hello to every friendly face, loves the zoo, lights up when she sees any of her grandparents, and that barely scratches the surface of the new things she does every other day.

So while yes, parenting can be exhausting, it’s a job I’d never trade.  It’s always just a little bit more fun than it is work and from pink lines to birth, from the first day home to her first birthday and for every little thing new she’s done since then, I see miraculous beauty (though it is sometimes smeared with peanut butter).

With as much emphasis as I place on music, it only makes sense to me that I should blog about one of the things I love best in this life…. music!  Honestly, there is no such thing as too much of it and I rarely tire of it and desire complete silence.  It continues to amaze me how much a single song can change my mood, cheer me up, bring me down or outright make me think of things that hardly ever cross my mind.  With an 8gb (small by some standards, I know) IPod that is bursting at it’s plastic seams and my ITunes that comes in with nearly 2500 songs on it, I feel I’m nowhere near done.  I find a new song, (or perhaps new to me as I rarely pay attention to the radio), and it seems its no time at all before I’m all but thirsting for new tunes, a different style, a favored artist or even something just lyrically beautiful.

These online games my husband introduced me to, while they are a -tremendous- time suck, they’ve afforded me the ability to meet several people who have done wonders to broaden my musical horizons, whether it’s my best friend from New York dragging me into the chaotic, drum driven songs of Avenged Sevenfold or the operatic rock of Kamelot or my other friend waaaay over in Vegas introducing me to the offbeat lyrics of Ludo, I’ve run into things I’d likely never have found on my own.

Alternately, there are the tried and true songs and artists I was raised on that I still love, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, the Eagles, ZZTop all top the list but none quite come close to my sole favorite from that time, Sir Elton John.  While I grant that the man is not the most talented lyricist, his piano playing could soften even the most anti-musical person with the passion and fluidity that just seems to flow so effortlessly from him onto those lovely ivory and ebony keys.All these random thoughts come to me as I sit at work, listening to the satellite radio that my store owner had installed.  While for the first year and a half of my employment we subsisted on the LOVE channel, (think Bette Midler, Frank Sinatra, Faith Hill and songs of that sappy nature from the 70’s-90’s) which was good I grant you.  Recently however, Ray, Lois and I, I believe, mutually agreed that something newer was needed.  

Enter, Sirius Satellite Radio’s station, The Blend.  Quite easily one of the better stations I’ve heard, it runs the musical gambit from the late 70’s to music made in the past three or four months.  Now, I cannot say it’s -completely- diverse, as there is a fair bit of music I adore that isn’t really meant to play in an upscale jewelry store, but it certainly hangs in there.  I recall listening to it that first day, hearing things like the Eagles, Roxette, Hall and Oates, the Beach Boys and I assume it’s an oldies station.  Slowly, mingling into the mix, are the familiar and loved (at least by me) songs of Maroon 5, Michael Buble, Daughtry, Uncle Kracker, Lady Antebellum and many others.   I spend much of my day singing to myself now, much to Ray’s dismay I believe!Stations like the Blend as well as Pandora are other ways that I find new music, I’ll load up an artist that in my eyes does very little wrong.  Case in point is John Mayer, of his four or five albums, I believe he has released two songs that I dislike strongly, I’d say that’s a pretty good track record I’d say.  The enormously talented Mayer combines his strong, bluesy guitar style with a more pop-influenced background, low, sultry vocals and lyrics that always make me sit up and take stark notice.  It’s rare to find an artist that I am such an avid fan of, but my affinity for John has brought me the likes of Lee Dwyze, Matt Nathanson, Train, The Script and others on the mellow note.

Lyrics tend to be my favorite part of music on the whole.  A song can have a catchy beat, or a nice rhythm that makes you want to move… but if the words are trite and ridiculous, I hate it regardless, as is the case with the idiotic “Porn Star Dancing”.  Nice beat… but the lyrics are typical, trashy and in general just horrible.  On the other hand, I’ve found songs so slow and written from such a painful place that one might be moved to, I don’t know, jump out a 12th story window on a bad day and somehow I find them beautiful such as Breaking Benjamin’s “Dear Agony”, or “Victim” by Avenged Sevenfold.  Uncle Kracker’s “Smile” always brings to mind thoughts of my husband, I cannot listen to “Dirty Laundry” by Don Henley without thinking of my father and his wife dancing in their den.  Dance routines still flow effortlessly through my mind with the first strains of “Bent” by Matchbox 20 or Alanis Morisette’s “Uninvited”.There is the rare occassion that I will fall for entire albums like Savage Garden’s “Affirmations”, the album is easily ten years old and one of my favorites to this day.  “Heavier Things” by John Mayer can mellow me straight out even if I”m angry enough to throw things through windows.  Jars of Clay’s “Much Afraid” takes deep root in my life, representing a book I was skeptical of that I grew to love, a Christian band I embraced even though I rarely embrace faith in general and a meaningful (but kept secret from me) reading at my wedding.  “Hands All Over” and “You’re Awful, I Love You” by Maroon 5 and Ludo respectively turn me into a bobbing, happy girl who can’t sit still.

Before I dart off to get lost in a musical world for the next twenty minutes until closing time, (and marvelling that my boss is a fan of Matchbox 20), please, next time you turn on your radio or your internet music app (because there is an app for everything).  -Listen- to what they’re saying, pay attention to the tune, the rhythm, the flow, the vocals, get lost in the entire thing and you’ll see my meaning.  Music itself, no matter your taste, is beautiful.

Everyone, at least once in their life, is inspired by another person.  For some of us it happens multiple times, and even the smallest things can set it off, a much-repeated quote from your father, a song lyric, or perhaps just the look of happiness on the face of someone they love when something is done right.  Even larger things still inspire each of us, a book, a favorite teacher, a church service, a close relationship with a family member, lover or even a friend.  In many of these cases, at least in my experiences, you’re inspired by something good, your favored aunt who is a nurse unknowningly steering you to the medical field, your automotive fanatic father who after much teeth pulling makes a genuine car enthusiast of you or a book turned movie that moves you to learn to cook.  The inspiration for this blog, came from quite the opposite place, a realization that maybe not everyone sees the world for the beauty it contains amidst all the bad.

I was fortunate enough a few nights ago to have one of those incredibly open, honest and just plain blunt conversations with one of my best friends.  There is something about the witching hour, times between midnight and three, that enables you to say things that most of us wouldn’t during the day.  That was the case in this conversation, it started simply enough, comparing answers to a questionnaire my father sent me earlier that day, typical things such as favourite food, ice cream, lunch meat and the more off the wall queries such as “Do you untie your shoes when you remove them?”  Soon enough if veered off into places we’d been, things we’ve seen and should we ever manage to meet one another in person (yes I met my friend on the internet) the places we’d show one another.  It moved me to start detailing (rambling as one does at 3am) the simple things about my home that I love, how the sun kicks off the water at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, the massive christmas tree that decorates the mall I work at or even the feel of the wind whipping through my hair as I floor the accelerator of my pretty blue Hyundai Tiburon.  My friend sat in almost silence, just listening to me, as he is prone to do when I begin to ramble and after a few minutes I stopped, and I asked why he was so quiet.  He replied that he wished he could see the world through my eyes, that I notice and love the things that he pays no attention to.  Now, having seen pictures of the area where he lives… I was frankly shocked, wondering how you can live in rural upstate New York and not notice beauty at every turn.

The next day, as I paced the floor at work trying to kill the last 10 minutes of my workday, my mind began to wander and I thought, why not detail how I see the world?  Everyone seems to be blogging these days, my wonderful father and his lovely wife are no exception as I am an avid reader of both of their blogs.  I decided as the last few moments of my workday dwindled that I would begin a blog of my own, detailing the things I love, what I find inspiration in and the beauty of even the simplest or even more complex things, there is beauty in both joy and tragedy, the sparkle in a young woman’s eye when she finds her dream engagement ring or the poignant sadness and strength felt at a candlelight vigil on the Virginia Tech campus, the some 30,000 students and alumni all gathered together to both mourn the victims of the April 2007 shooting.  I pulled all these thoughts together in the hopes that perhaps someone will read it and begin to notice the world around them and find joy in the beauty this world gives us every day.