Little Sparrow

I am lucky that those closest to me read this blog, my mother for one. She suggested I feature Edith Piaf’s signature tune, Non, je ne regrette rien‏, "No,I regret nothing". I know a bit of a dramatic choice but is a beautiful song and when played at the end of her bio pic La Vie En Rose, it will leave you in tears.

I was vaguely familiar with the tune and Piaf’s tough but amazing life story but I did not know that this tune was adopted by the Foreign Legion. It was sung as the leaders of the failed 1961 Algerian coup surrendered themselves to prison and disgrace. Oh how wonderfully French.

Please listen not as the soundtrack to a defiant last stand (but a great choice) but more as a declaration of strength and hope for the future.

Some synchronicity as I have been dreaming of the South of France, an ideal warm and peaceful escape from the stresses of work and the chill of winter....just let me take my Corvette please.









Hugs,

April

Destiny and Twinkies

The last week has been a difficult one with my depression resurfacing with all the ill temper of the recent winter weather those of us in the New World have endured. Dealing with these demons while at work was particularly challenging. In my mind I had a number of stories prepared for why I looked so distraught. Luckily my office is relatively private and no one barged in yesterday.

I am sure my depression was evident in my posts, sorry for being such a downer, I am sure I sound like a whiney bitch. I was asked what is stopping me?

Good question, technically nothing except it would be my last day at work. My current position and thus the financial security of my family and myself would be sacrificed. If I were alone in the world I really would not care and would let the chips fall where they may.

The way forward should be clear, find another position. The difficulty and hard work associated with finding a new job and questions of do I tell when should I tell seemed to have paralyzed me into indecision.

A good friend reminded me that my destiny is womanhood and that I must work hard to grasp my goal, to allow myself to give up would be to condemn myself to the abyss.

Clearly I cannot maintain the status quo and must make the new job my utmost priority forsaking everything else. As Woody Harrelson said in Zombieland, “time to nut up or shut up”….perhaps an ironic choice in inspirational speeches but it was a cool movie…anybody got a Twinkie?




When I find a new song I like I usually play it constantly, so dig this undiscovered gem (to me at least) of the Tall Boys tribute to The Island of Lost Souls, great rolling, twangy groove:




Hugs,

April

I Just Want to Set the World On Fire

When I was younger the sound of the Tall Boys, Final Kick emanating from my old tube stereo was a signal I was in a bad mood, understatement more like when I was really really angry. When it felt like the blood was burning in my veins.

Something about this tune, perhaps the best psychobilly 45 ever, that both gave voice to and burnt out my rage. The male me was always angry and perhaps only happy when giving voice to that anger….I hate being this way.

I am listening to that song today.

Why?

Frustration with my life in waiting, fueled by jealousy of others who are free to move forward has overwhelmed me. No I am not proud of my emotions and much of that anger gets turned inwards.

I alternately, just want to set the world on fire or crawl into a deep dark hole.

But it’s not like Christmas at all

Stole that line from the classic Darlene Love song, Christmas (baby please come home). Helped put up the tree yesterday, dug out all the Christmas CDs including the amazing Phil Spector Christmas album, it even snowed creating a winter wonderland outside, but the Spirit of Christmas Present remains a stranger to me.

Darlene’s soulful plea is a honest note for those not feeling the whole Marshmallow World vibe.

Part of the problem is work, very busy laboring on a television project that is due in early January. Filmed this weekend and things went well, still one more shoot day to organize.

As part of the filming, put lots of miles on my old Toronado. She drove all over the place even across the border to Buffalo and back with nary a complaint.

Not bad for a thirty plus year old car but I do feel I was pushing my luck. Despite her mass and FWD a patch of black ice this morning almost ended things badly for the both of us.

Crossing an international border in this age of full body scanners, nothing says prepare for a cavity search like driving a big black vintage car in the middle of winter. Eye brows were raised and I believe I escaped x-rays and probes but the slightest margin.

I was a little put out that work prevented me from attending a big Christmas get together of girlfriends on Saturday. I did manage to get out for coffee with Marissa last night. It had snowed quite heavily but I was determined that April was not to be relegated to the closet for another week.

A little slippery as the plows and salt trucks had not passed by yet but good practice for the Monday morning commute.

I had a great chat with Marissa and felt a little better about things.

In the spirit of Scrooge I bring you one of the best Christmas songs ever and a wish that like Ebenezer we can shed the chains that bind our hearts.

Hugs,

April

Mirror Time

This morning my wife was rushing to get ready, hair makeup etc. She raised an eyebrow and with some friendly sarcasm said, I know you wish you had to do this each morning.

Well yes, but I do not doubt it can be a complete pain in the ass when you are running late and the children have to get to school. Getting ready as a guy is generally a lot faster but don’t try and tell me ironing a shirt, polishing shoes and shaving takes five minutes.

I do know how long it takes to get ready to leave the house (even longer in my case) but it would be a small sacrifice and then I could complain about it too.

Work is so busy GID naturally takes a back seat but it is certainly no cure.

Hugs,

April

Blast from the Past

“When the angel of death comes looking for me, when the angels sing, I hope I was everything I was supposed to be”

I unexpectedly came across this photo of my younger self. Taken two decades ago at least (I feel faint) at a car show with like minded rockabilly friends. I think this was during my university days just before I did my MBA.

Did I know then, yes but it was as if through a glass darkly.

I was a little hesitant to show this but I have posted a guy picture before. I must say that my hair was outstanding, I still have the motorcycle jacket and it fits. I had dyed my hair blond (not very well), I thought it would make me look more like Billy Fury.

It was a very odd sensation seeing this photo. I am really not sure what to make of my emotions, have I killed him, lost him, what would I say to my younger self? Transition now! Hang in there it will be ok? Just check out now! Don't do this to your future wife! I am at a loss for words.


Hugs,

April

Beauty Sleep

I was happy to get out Sunday and thought I looked ok but the few photos MJ shot made me look awful. I think I looked rather gaunt and haggard. I blame the lack of sleep and being stressed out at work. I can safely say that I now fully appreciate the concept of beauty sleep.

Bad news is that my current work load will not abate until sometime next week and there is no one but me to get the job done. Hopefully Sunday afternoon I will be able to take a breather. Until then every day and night is consumed by writing. It is a truism that we live in a downsized and razor thin world.

Writing to some comes easily (Stephen King comes to mind, someone please get him an editor) but apart from some rare instances it is like pulling teeth for me. The completion of an article, script or proposal leaves me exhausted and mentally drained.

So raise a cup of joe and wish me Godspeed.

Here is Glenn Glenn with One Cup of Coffee (And A Cigarette):




Hugs,

April