She Put the Blue in Bluegrass

On Thursday, August 25, I experienced some sort of public emotional come-apart. Not how you might think, though...this breakdown occured in the dark (thank god) and was set to some fine fiddling. When my boyfriend, Jim, invited me to see Alison Krauss live in concert, I was all set. I mean, I like her little upbeat tunes, "Now That I've Found You" and "The Lucky One" being two of my favorites. I figured there would be some bluegrass involved, some happy little ditties about mining coal and prevailing against the tough odds. After a dinner of mussels and scallops at Cafe Society (another blog post....I unknowingly ordered the souvenir platter, a plate full of shells), I took my seat in the Orpheum and settled in for a pleasant evening.

What followed was a cruel ass kick.

Tiny little Alison came out on stage with her fiddle (violin? viola? I'm no musician) and might as well have cracked it over my skull. There is something about live music that gets me anyway. It is overwhelming, in a good way. To say this was overwhelming would be an understatement. The tears sprang up with the first song and by the end, I was ready for a nice warm bath and a straight razor. Don't get me wrong...the music was spectacular. Listening to the music without distraction; however, allowed me to feel the whole experience. Lyrics about lost love, heartbreak, longing, pining, dying, regret...she covered all of them. I was actually happy when I heard the upbeat strains of a non-radio played bluegrass type number. WRONG. There would be no prevailing against the elements here. Even hillbillies die with regret and unrighted wrongs apparently. And, it is just as sad.

Sitting next to my guy, I felt a little embarrassed. I had tears brimming in my eyes, ready to start flowing down my face. My nose was stuffed up and I was mouth breathing. I didn't want him to think I was some sort of emotionally unstable sap. I hate crying. Hate it worse than anything. And crying in public? No hotter hell. I try to avoid displays of emotion at all costs. But, then she did "Ghost In This House". It isn't enough that her own songs made me want to die, now she was mining the catalogue of other groups that did songs that made me want to die. The possibilities became endless and I felt a sense of dread. After the song, I had lost eyelid control and my face and collar were wet. During the applause, I did a big sniffle, trying to clear an airway. All those songs that I hummed along with, happily thinking they were sweet, were actually very dark and sad. And then came the encore. I considered myself lucky that "Whiskey Lullaby" had not made an appearance. Of all the songs in the world, that has got to be the saddest. Ever. In the world. We made it to the encore and I felt relieved that I didn't have to excuse myself to the ladies room to pull a Glenn-Close-Sobbing-In-The-Shower scene. Little Alison and her cohorts reappeared on stage and then made the last jab. "La la la la la la la" OH NO!!! DON'T DO IT!! PLEASE!!! I leaned over and whispered to my boyfriend, "I don't think I am going to be able to handle this." He looked at me crazy, he of emotional stability. I didn't even try to restrain the flow of tears at this point. Mercifully, they only did the first part and chorus. Then it was on to a gospel tune. Somehow, Alison Krauss can make meeting Jesus into something heartbreaking.

As we were leaving, I mentioned my suicidal ideations to Jim. He laughed and agreed that the music was sad. I said something about "Whiskey Lullaby" being the saddest song ever. Jim, clearly made of thicker skin than I, asked why I thought so...did that happen to someone I knew. WHAT? Were we not at the same concert, just now? No, I never knew anyone who was dumped and then became an alcoholic and then blew his brains out and then was buried beneath a willow tree. But, I didn't have to. That shit is SAD. This is why I don't like crying in front of other people, they don't get why. I cry every time I watch "The Color Purple". Have I ever been reunited with my long lost sister and my African kids after being subjected to decades of abuse from my Mister? No. In a sense, I am over-empathetic. I try to avoid pain and sadness, but when it creeps up, I am all in. During the dirges, I found myself imagining the saddest shit ever. Abandoned dogs walking in the rain, in search of their homes. Deathbed apologies. Old ladies looking out the window remembering their youth. Dogs waiting at the door for an owner who will never come home. Discarded teddy bears. I don't know why I do this, but it is a slippery slope. My brain just naturally goes there and I can't stop it.

Clearly, I have some issues. I go through my days, not expressing much emotion, trying to keep a blank face. It is my job to be the calm in the storm. And, I am good at that. I hear the bad shit, the worst, day in day out; and then I come home and play with my dog, clean my house, read fashion magazines, and forget about it. Or so I thought. Actually, I am saving up. All that pain and sadness avoidance is taking it's toll. I need to find a way to release some of that mess at the end of the day, so that it doesn't fester and run when I am supposed to be having a good time. In spite of the emotional purge, the concert was great. The music was beautiful, sad as it was. Alison Krauss is an extremely talented musician and the intimate venue of The Orpheum was perfect. I was on the arm of the best date ever and I liked my outfit. Through the tears, I was able to appreciate all of this and be thankful that I wasn't the one under the willow tree.

All Of Me

Seems I remember several months ago, while discussing my planned success with Weight Watchers, I smugly counted my chickens before they hatched. I made a half hearted effort at weight watchers, and threw $60 out the window. I may have lost 5 pounds, maybe. Fast forward a few months...I feel fat again.

I am taking a history lesson this time...I am not spending a dime on something that I, historically, do not see through. Enter the Fitness Pal app for my Iphone. This app tracks my food intake and exercise (he he he) and then spits out an analysis for me. It satisfies my OCD with data. I like entering, tracking, and analyzing data. I just don't like paying to do so. Fitness Pal makes keeping up with calories like a game: only the fewer points the better. Enjoy a glass of milk...plus 90. Walk Harriet...minus 100. So much easier than trying to figure out the point value of everything. I get a 1200 calorie allowance each day. Yesterday was day one.

After it was all said and done (and digested), I got a neat little snapshot of my nutritional habits. I was surprised at how nutritious my diet actually is. I figured I would just track my usual eating habits for a few days, to get an idea of where I need work. I had pretty much decided that my normal diet was about as healthy as cigarettes dipped in salt. Wrong. Take sodium, for example. I was nowhere near the daily sodium intake. And, I dined at McDonald's for lunch (although I did skip the fries.) Another observation is that I should never suffer a broken bone...ever. My calcium intake was right on target, maybe a little over. What can I say...I loves me some milk...and Tums. Eat two Tums...you have half your daily calcium intake. Cholesterol is not an issue either, didn't get close to recommendation. Of course, I realize that this is not necessarily a good thing, a balanced diet is just that...balanced. Both salt and fat are necessary. But, my idea of how I was eating was so bad that I figured I was teetering on the edge of a coronary. Turns out...not so bad.

I didn't feel guilty, the way I did with Weight Watchers. I did go over the 1200 calorie allowance, by 120 calories. This morning, it's a new day! No haunting deficit. One food mistake would follow me around for at least 7 days with weight watchers. I prefer to pay the tax and move on. Not that weight watchers is bad...it is actually a great program, but just not for me. Not that fitness pal is right for me, either...too soon to tell. It is just one thing in a list of changes I feel that I need to make, including cutting back my smoking, working on my procrastination, addressing my neglected creative needs, etc etc etc. Self improvement is my bag.

Lately, I have this overwhelming feeling that I am not enjoying my life. I am living it, but not savoring it. I am basically happy, but kind of on auto pilot...maintaining. Get up, go to work, work long day, come home, clean house, clean me, pet Harriet, go to bed. Repeat. That puts a lot of pressure on the weekends.

I remember many many many years ago, sitting around with some aimless friends. It was a Wednesday. We were making plans for the upcoming weekend. I remember saying to my then boyfriend, "I do NOT want to become the person who lives for the weekend." He had no idea what I was talking about. I'd be willing to bet that he is still living for the weekend. I need to enjoy all my days. Taking better care of my physical self will help my creative self come up with things that will make my emotional self happy.

And with that...I need to get myselves ready for work.