The Heroine's Journey ("One of the Greats" by Florence + the Machine)

For the past few years, I've created a pair of playlists every year. One is the vibe of the year, which is based on the energy I'm sensing around New Year's and add to it as I find songs that fit that energy; the other is my "Jess is Awesome!" playlist, which I've made for my birthday every year for the past four years. While the Vibe of the Year usually grows as the year progresses, I make an effort to choose about 10-15 songs for my birthday playlist to encapsulate the moment. To some extent, it captures my mood at the time of creation. For example, "Volume 2: In My Feels" featured "Desert Song" by MCR, "Stronger" by Hanson, and "Jenny, You're Barely Alive" by Rilo Kiley - clearly, I was going through something. Volume 3, in contrast, featured songs like "Golden" by Huntr/x, "In My Blood" by Shawn Mendes, and "Across the Universe" by the Beatles. One of the themes for that year was "Dying Star," which still feels like taking a deep breath of air when I listen to it. The first year was mostly songs that capture my essence, including my namesake, "Jessica" by the Allman Brothers. 

There are some eccentric and unofficial rules around the "Jess is awesome!" playlist. The first is that there's usually a theme song I choose (sometimes two, if I'm feeling especially Gemini Rising). The second - and this seems to be unintentional - but there must always be one Hanson song. Luckily, they have a pretty sizeable repertoire. And third - it's not going to change after July 6th, so the songs must be selected with intention. I was struggling a bit with composing the playlist this year. but I finally put it together a couple of days before my birthday, in a fit of inspiration. Right in the nick of time. For this year, the songs are largely aspirational and motivational - the attitude and perspective I would like to embody (or am embodying) as well as ideas I would like to bring into my life this year. As you may have guessed by the title of this post, "One of the Greats" is my theme for my 39th revolution around the Sun.

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I've been pre-occupied with this idea of greatness. Or, more precisely, this intense introspection into whether or not I'm doing what I was put on this planet to do. More often than not, the answer feels like a resounding "No!" Don't get me wrong - I am really good at my mundane job. And I could probably keep climbing up the ladder indefinitely....but do I want to? True, it keeps me busy - my days are a whirlwind of bullshit that keeps me spinning from task to task. Occasionally, it gets interesting. I'm proud of the things I've accomplished. I like the people I work with (for the most part). And I love the financial stability - arguably the best part of the job (and most mundane jobs) is the salary. That being said - if I won the lottery tomorrow, I'd be out of there in a heartbeat. It's a means to an end.

The harsh reality is that purpose is pursued in the dim light of early mornings and the darkness after bedtime hugs. It's built in the span of a couple free hours on weekends and on breaks during the work day. Often it feels like toiling with no outcome - there is only The Work. Often, there is no tangible reward so you must learn to love the process. It's about the journey and not the destination. And even then, even if you love it, you can burn yourself out from the disappointment. It takes discipline and devotion, when you have nothing left to give. At which point, you just start digging out the bottom of a dry well. In theory, that's where the good stuff is anyway.

In the past - and even now - I struggle with wondering if I'm wasting my time on this. I'm no good at this writing thing, so I should give up. There's no money in it, there's too much competition, everyone is writing something - what more could I have to offer? It used to make me quite depressed and - as the huge blank spaces in the timeline of this blog can attest - unmotivated to write anything, even when I'm overflowing with inspiration. But lately, there's this little voice inside saying, "Who gives a shit?" And instead of scrolling another hour when I get those thoughts, I've been coming here or to my Scrivener projects or to one of my many notebooks....and doing the work. My mind has been so loud this year. And there's really only one way to quiet it. 

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There are some songs I wish I could just shoot into my veins, they are so thoroughly in my blood when I hear them. This latest album from Florence perfectly captures where I am right now. Her albums often do that.  I think it's because we're so close in age (she was born in 1986, about 10 months before me), so we're going through a lot of the same milestones at the same time. That's why I originally wanted to write a 33 1/3 book about "Ceremonials" - in my 20s, it perfectly encapsulated where I was on my journey. Recently, I realized I don't resonate with it as much anymore. Maybe I've overheard the songs too much, or maybe I just have the latest album to compare the feeling to. I still love it but in a different way. The songs on "Everybody Scream" speak of overcoming loss and grief, and I've been through a bit of that in recent years. Florence experienced a miscarriage due to an ectopic pregnancy prior to writing "Everybody Scream." She nearly died herself. I cannot begin to tell you how devastating pregnancy trauma can be. And though I haven't experienced a miscarriage myself, others in my family have gone through the pain of losing children they desperately wanted. It leaves a scar. My heart goes out to her. Art often exists as a byproduct of healing these deep, soul-sucking wounds. I want you to keep that in mind as new technology brings up questions of what the purpose of art is, who gets to be creative, the importance of the creative process, and what is art anyway. Be prepared - we are about to go on a long journey through the lyrics of "One of the Greats." 

I crawled up from under the earth

Broken nails and coughing dirt

Spitting out my songs so you could sing along, oh

And with each bedraggled breath, I knew I came back from the dead

To show you how it's done, to show you what it takes

To conquer and to crucify, to become one of the greats

One of the greats

The first verse begins where many stories do - at the end. She went through a Death. This may have been her miscarriage story - in your story, it could be a loss of identity brought about by any number of things - and yet, in spite of that Death, she has to carry on. There are expectations, responsibilities, contracts she needs to fulfill. The show must go on, regardless of how she's feeling. Regardless of what she is going through. That's what it takes to be one of the greats - you keep going, even when you have nothing left in you. Yes, we state the underlying lesson at the beginning, because that's how you tell a story. The conflict and the lesson are usually co-present at the start, albeit dressed in poetic drapery. 

I kept a scream inside my chest, killed everyone I'd ever kissed

Hung them on the wall like trophies, each name, a stain upon my lips

I told the truth but could never see it through

You see yourself hung on the wall but that song is not about you

I wrote down all my fumbling visions transmitted by a television

Got everything I thought I wanted and cried hungover in a hotel closet

This is, arguably, my favorite verse. It's about the creative process. One of the most amazing things about Florence is that she's very soft-spoken in interviews - at the concert we went to in May, when she would talk to the audience, she sounded so quiet and delicate. But, man, when she sang, she filled the arena. It was amazing to behold. I find that's true about a lot of artists - even myself, at times. When I was acting, I was often told it was "scary" how I could transform into the characters. I became a different person on the stage and then morph back into this quiet, shy girl when rehearsal was over. This is the magic of the creative process - it draws something out of us when we don't feel like we're able to express it in other ways. When we don't feel like we can scream, even though the emotions we're feeling are bursting out of our chest. "I told the truth but could never see it through/You see yourself hung on the wall but that song is not about you." I found myself ruminating deeply on this lyric during my daily commute this summer. It reminds me of Anne Lamott's writing advice (which I'll paraphrase) - tell the truth but change the names....for legal reasons.

What I've realized lately is The Movie Star - or The Journalist or The Poet or The Exorcist or whatever stupid name I give people to explain their place in my story - they're all just characters in my performance. They're shadows at best. The Muse has always been me. These voices in my head are mine alone. The magic flows from my thoughts and ideas, regardless of what's happening in my life. Art is a process. You hear a song or read a book, and we think it's about a certain person in the artist's life, but it's not! It's about their experience. It's about them. A prime example of this is Taylor Swift - we point to lyrics and scream it's about Jake Gyllenhaal or Joe Alwyn, but no! All her songs are about her experience, her feelings, her fears and aspirations and troubles. Except "Wood" - I'm 99% sure that's about her husband's cock. Weird choice to put on an album but I'll allow it. I'm sure I've written spicier stuff so I've no place to judge.

Did I get it right? Do I win the prize?

Do you regret bringing me back to life?

Arms outstretched, back from the dead

Streetlights bursting overhead

Arms outstretched, back from the dead

Streetlights bursting overhead

I did my best, tried to impress, my childhood dream made flesh

And my dresses and my flowering sadness, so like a woman to profit from her madness

I was only beautiful under the lights, only powerful there

Burned down at thirty-six

Why did you dig me up for this?

Moving on. They - and by they, I mean the earth-bound ancestors who have written books about writing and the creative process - say that you start putting out the best work when you don't care anymore. When you're not trying to win anything. When you don't care about the views or the money. When you've scraped the bottom of your grief and have come up empty. When you're doing it just for yourself - that's when the magic becomes unbound. I wonder if I've gotten to that point yet. Or is this the same old drivel I've always written? If it is, do I care? I paused to consider it just now and all I felt was silence. I guess that's as clear a "no" as any. The truth is I wish I could profit from my madness - I think we all do - but even if I never make a dime from my writing, I'll still be doing it. I'm burned out from trying so hard, from being so aware of what I'm putting out there - hoping it's good, hoping it's worth reading, hoping it won't be misconstrued or misinterpreted. The expectations are overwhelming, when it feels like so much of what I'm writing is just screaming into the void. And that's where I am right now - the Void. Nobody can hear me scream here, so why am I doing it? The best answer I've got is I just gotta do it. 

You'll bury me again, you'll say it's all pretend

That I could never be great being held up against such male tastes

'Cause who really gets to be one of the greats, one of the greats?

But I've really done it this time, this one is all mine

I'll be up there with the man and the ten other women

And the hundred greatest records of all time

It must be nice to be a man and make boring music just because you can

Now don't get me wrong, I'm a fan

You're my second favorite frontman

And you could have me if you weren't so afraid of me

It's funny how men don't find power very sexy

So this one's for the ladies

Do I drive you crazy?

Did I get it right?

Easily one of the best bridges I've ever heard. Because who really gets to decide who becomes one of the greats? Historically, it's been men. That's not just me being radically feminist (even if I am) - every day seems to unearth another woman whose contributions to the world have been forgotten or overshadowed or even stolen by the men she worked with. The truth is, women often feel they need to be extraordinary just to hold on to what they have, because the bar is set too high in order to keep them down. I've seen it myself, being in a heavily male-dominated industry. The assumption I've most encountered in my career is I'm too timid to be a leader. And I'm not - I've shown time and time again I am outspoken and smart and have good ideas, sometimes better ideas than my male counterparts. The people I work with closely learn this pretty quick, but it's always the men (and occasionally women) two or three levels above me who have developed this false impression of who I am. That starting assumption is difficult to overcome. Recently, I've realized I've been taking on a lot of extra work at my job and the underlying reason has been to prove I'm worthy of a promotion. But I know I'm worthy of a director-level position. In many cases, I've been doing work my own managers should've been doing, advocating for things my leadership should've already been planning for - and I'm tired of burning myself out for people who have already made up their mind about me.

But the flip side of that coin is being a capable and intelligent woman means that the men you encounter who recognize your brilliance are often intimidated or even afraid of you. If I had a dollar for every man who said I scared them, I'd probably have like $10. Which doesn't sound like much but, psychologically, it takes a toll. Most women's response to this fear - including my younger self - is to make themselves smaller so others feel comfortable and safe. Dimming their light to be less frightening. Even in romantic relationships, many women worry about things like being the breadwinner or letting potential partners win at competitive games so they don't damage a fragile ego. After nearly four decades of living the female experience, I can tell you this isn't the way to go. You deserve to be seen for how beautiful and amazing you are - and if that scares some people away, the Universe is doing you a favor. It's trying to save you from the heartache of losing yourself, which is way more painful than any breakup or lost promotion could ever be. 

Side note - and this absolutely will come up in the future - I love the lyric "you're my second favorite frontman." It always makes me wonder who she's talking about. I've decided it's Dave Matthews. I know I'm probably 100% wrong but it's way funnier than whoever she's actually singing about. It is now official lore. I declare it.

There are many other things I love about this song. The supernatural elements of Florence's work always excites my witchy spirit. I love the symbolism of Death and Rebirth, because Life is just a continuous cycle of Death and Rebirth. It goes without saying but I highly recommend checking out "Everybody Scream." I have quite a few favorites from this album, all of which I plan to write about throughout the rest of this year. I have the posts brewing already.

Thanks for reading my friends. If you feel called to comment, here's your question: What are you creating today?

"One of the Greats" Music Video

"If I Die Young" by The Band Perry

This is a somewhat overdramatic look at how far my anxiety can go if left unchecked. At my last prenatal appointment, I asked for information about doing a Trial of Labor after Cesarean (TOLAC). They gave me a list of the risks, complications, and statistics for attempting a TOLAC vs electing to have a repeat C-section. I didn't have a full on panic attack but for a minute, I did think I was going to faint so I had to get up and move while take deep breaths. Considering I was waiting to get my blood drawn for the glucose test, it would've been embarrassing for the phlebotomist to find me passed out on the floor. Once I got out of the building and regained my composure (the smell of fresh Indian food helps), the internal analysis began.

Why such a dramatic reaction to a fairly standard explanation of the risks, most of which I already knew about from my own research? I think, in that moment, the decision and the potential consequences of my decision became real. It wasn't just a list of facts, it was the possible outcomes of my future - it was what could happen to me and my baby if things go wrong, how it might affect my ability to have another child (because I'm not 100% sure that I'm done with having kids after this one), and what happens to my family if the worst of the worst-case-scenarios happens. This shouldn't have to be said but pregnancy isn't all sunshine and rainbows. The United States has one of the worst maternal mortality rates in the developed world, especially among women of color, a fact evidenced by the increase of articles on the subject in recent years (one of the main reasons stepping away from Twitter has been really helpful for me these past couple weeks - with the influx of COVID cases, articles about women dying during or shortly after childbirth have become more frequent).

If I die young bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

To be clear, I've had time to consider both options. Both have their benefits and risks and one is not inherently more dangerous than the other based on the research. And since this pregnancy is considered low-risk (I had gestational diabetes with my first born), I'm probably a good candidate for attempting a TOLAC, depending on what my doctor can tell me about my first C-section. But then I have these other worries going on in the background - like the fact that scheduling a repeat C-section can guarantee my parents will be in town to take care of my son and I won't risk having to give birth alone. This has been one of my greatest concerns during this whole COVID business and it has felt like I've had to deal with everything on my own this time because of the restrictions. With my first, my husband went with me to almost every appointment up until the third trimester, when they became too frequent for him to reasonably take time off from work. This time, he wasn't even able to go to the 20-week ultrasound, which is the one thing most husbands go to. Which brings up another concern - on one hand, I want the option that gets me out of the hospital quickest to avoid potential COVID infection for me and my newborn. On the other hand, I don't want to be put in a situation that may require emergency surgery, when hospital staffing is already stressed.

And there are the additional factors to take into account. It's 2020, which I wouldn't say is anybody's lucky year. It certainly hasn't been mine. Even if I go with what I think is the "safer choice," I still might die, despite the low probability. And the astrology around my due date is the shittiest we'll see all year. I'm due the day Mercury goes retrograde, Venus will be in Virgo (where it's in its Fall), Mars will be retrograde, Saturn is in Capricorn conjunct Pluto and Jupiter, and in a loose square to Mars. All the astrological thugs are in the mix (and Jupiter serves as the Great Instigator). And both Saturn and Mars will be in their domiciles, where their effects are strongest, so a square is like a cage-fight where no one wins. When he's born, this poor kid will probably have most chaotic birth chart I've ever seen. Maybe it's silly to consider the astrology but the more I learn about it, the more things make sense. The only bright spot and hopeful sign I've gotten is that when I asked the tarot what the outcome would be, I got the Queen of Wands, which I interpreted as I'm capable of manifesting a successful outcome, even in the worst of conditions, if I set my mind to it. This has always been my philosophy and it helped to remind me that, even if I'm not the luckiest person, I'm also far from being the unluckiest person. In fact, I've always felt the Universe was on my side most of the time and the time's when I felt it wasn't, things worked out in the end. However, there's still an internal struggle I'm working through to combat my fears.

And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom

I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger

I've never known the lovin' of a man

But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever

Who would have thought forever could be severed by

The sharp knife of a short life,

Well I've had just enough time

I've made my peace with Death but that doesn't mean I'm ready to go or that I want to. I've got a lot of things I have to finish, the most important of which is raising my son(s). My oldest is the best thing in my life. I fall in love with him every morning, even when he's being stubborn or bossy or moody (which is at least half my fault, especially the bossy part). He's always doing something unexpectedly smart or sweet. For example, he has a little vTech phone my dad got him for his birthday and he has a recording app on it. I recently realized that, when he's not recording himself doing funny voices or screaming, his favorite thing to record is my voice. He's recorded dozens of files of me laughing or talking. And the other day, I was singing while cooking dinner and he ran to get his phone so he could make recordings of me singing showtunes and early 90s ballads. It was sweet but, afterwards, it made me sad because I started thinking, "What happens if I die and these become his only memories of me?" I know it's morbid and I'm trying not to ruminate on it so much, but I've been really scared and in a dark place since the beginning of this pregnancy.

On the plus side, I looked through my benefits and realized I do have a small amount of life insurance, so my husband won't be completely fucked if I die. He'll be able to manage long enough to sell the house and get on his feet, especially with my parents added help. Again, morbid but comforting. One less thing I have to worry about. After doing my own research - reading a couple books and scientific articles as well as watching/reading other women's stories - and talking to my husband about our options, I'm feeling a lot more confident now about my plan (and backup plan). It helps I got some added encouragement from my dad and older sister saying I'll make the best the best choice for my family. I've always had a strong internal locus of control and I'm not very easy to sway once I've decide on something, usually, although new information will give me pause for consideration. I'm not unreasonable and when a decision does have high risk and affects anyone other than myself, that's when inner fears start to creep in. It's very easy to get lost in self-doubt when you don't have a supportive group of friends and family. Or worse, if you have friends and family who actively cause you to doubt yourself and your choices (in which case, you should probably be questioning their place in your life). But, ultimately, I'm the one who has to decide, so I have about 10 weeks to get my fears in order.

A penny for my thoughts, oh no I'll sell them for a dollar

They're worth so much more after I'm a goner

And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'

Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'

I chose this song because I think it's sweet. I love the singer's voice - she sounds so young but the lyrics are so wise. "If I Die Young" is about living while you're alive, because that's all you get. The best gift you can give another is your presence, which has been another benefit of deleting Instagram and Twitter - I've spent a lot more time paying attention to my son and my husband. And myself. One thing this song does remind me of, though, is the movie trope of The Dying Girl. She lives in the same realm as The Beautiful Sad Girl and the Manic-Pixie-Dream Girl. When she shows up, her purpose is to give the flawed male protagonist perspective on life, so that he appreciates it more and her death serves to help him reach self-actualization. Yes, it's bullshit but it's a real writing cliche that's grown popular in recent years. My favorite example is "A Walk to Remember" - for a moment, we get to believe Mandy Moore is going to live and marry the man she's changed for the better. But, no, her leukemia comes out of remission and she only lives for a short time after she gets married. And while I know it happens - people marry their dying lovers all the time and it's treated as this beautiful, romantic occasion - it takes a level of strength I don't think most people have. To go into a romance, knowing it's doomed, and when it's over, you'll be left with all this pain, trauma, and a broken heart but not much else other than a few happy memories. Not even the hope you'll be together again in this life because this life ended for them. And that's where I'll stop, because this post was already too depressing when I chose this song.

"If I Die Young" Video

"The Widow" by The Mars Volta

I was finishing up my first listen-through of "The Velvet Underground & Nico" when I was struck by a sudden urge to listen to The Mars Volta. No reason for it. The band's name just suddenly popped in my head. The Mars Volta is a band from El Paso and they were active when I was in high school and college. Since they were local, the University radio station played them quite a bit. Earlier this week, I rediscovered this wonderful, dark ballad, which I felt compelled to share to mark the lunar eclipse. Because that is something I do now.

There's something haunting about this song. The vaguely Spanish lilt to the melody. The twangy guitar and the slow rhythmic drumming. How the music comes in waves, receding as the lyrics come in soft, slowly and then rising up dramatically, to consume the listener. A lonely trumpet playing a funerary dirge, as the words hit your core. Then, of course, Cedric Bixler-Zavala's vocals infuse the lyrics with emotion - pain, desperation, contempt, envy, resignation - and that's what really makes this song feel so dark. Che Aimee Dorval sings a cover of this song. It's good, but it's not the same. There's something about the original that you just can't capture. The album version, after the last lyrics, devolves into a cacophony of noise. As the Widow succumbs to madness or so I assume.

Side note: I'm starting to see a pattern in what I like in songs lately. If it's dark and has a flamenco guitar (or a Spanish influence), I'm there. Apparently, that's my jam right now.

Look at how they flock to him

From an isle of open sores

He knows that the taste is such

Such to die for

And I hear him every night

On every street

The scales that do slither

Deliver me from?

Freeze without an answer

Free from all the shame

Then I'll hide

'Cause I'll never never sleep alone

There's this theory that the Widow is singing about Death. She sees his spectre everywhere. Death is a presence the Widow sees constantly. Though she sings about Him ruefully, she admits there's also a dark attraction she has. Some of my favorite depictions of Death are in the guise of a beautiful young man. I'm not sure where I read it but there is a fan explanation that this song is about a woman who is addicted to heroin and her drug dealer is her son whom she gave up for adoption. Or it could be that she's singing about her dead husband and remembering the early days when she was first drawn to him. Either way, there's a suggestion here that Death and her husband are one in the same. And she longs for him.

In that way, this song is strangely perfect for the upcoming Saturn-Pluto Conjunction on January 12th. Technically, we're already in the conjunction - it just won't be exact until Sunday. With the God of Death meeting the Lord of Time and Karma in his domain, the themes surrounding this conjunction are very much about doom and gloom. And imprisonment, especially the self-inflicted kind. The Widow is a label defined by Death. She can only exist after her husband - or lover - has died. Etymologically, widows aren't strictly defined by legal marriage and historically, women who lost men whom they were in love with, but not married to, were also considered widows. I think those situations are even more tragic - to lose a loved one but not have the societal standing for your grief to be adequately recognized. What happens to a man's mistress once he dies? She has to pretend she never loved him, to appear as just another mourner among the faceless funeral goers, while she dies inside. Assuming she dares to go to the funeral. Regardless, she's doomed to face the grief and pain alone. Something about the lyrics makes me think that's the case for the singer of "The Widow." Those situations make for some of the most compelling ghost stories, though. A young woman forever awaiting the return of her beloved from the War or the Sea, pacing the grounds of her estate or leaning on the rail of a Widow's Walk. It's always been a dream of mine to own a house with a Widow's Walk (but I'd settle for having a regular old balcony). Unfortunately, that's a style that's more common in expensive homes on the Eastern Seaboard, so that dream is unlikely to happen any time soon.

The Widow is also a common archetype in stories. She's a character who is both haunting and haunted. The Widow is someone to be feared, usually because she's wise, but often because she's cold and heartless. She generally has a tragic backstory. The implication is that she's unfeeling because she lost the love of her life. So if she seems reckless or ruthless in her actions, it's because she has nothing to fear. Not Justice, not Pain, and certainly not Death. She's survived the worst and now she's just biding her time until Death comes for her and she'll reunite with her beloved. The Widow doesn't care when or how or even why anymore. She is a solitary figure who is mysterious and seductive, but also a little dangerous. In a way, she's Death's match. I better stop there - this song has been stuck in my head off and on all week and it takes my mind to dark places.

Freeze without an answer

Free from all the shame

Let me die

'Cause I'll never never sleep alone

Finally, one of the greatest drummers of all time - Neil Peart (Rush) - died today. Completely unrelated to everything else I was ranting about but still worth mentioning.

"The Widow" Video

"Natural" by Imagine Dragons

"You're a natural." I can't tell you how many times someone has told me that. I was thinking about that other day - the things I believe I'm good at, someone told me I was good at them and magically, I was. Singing. Acting. Writing. Math. A lot of things. And I wonder sometimes - was I actually naturally good at these things or did someone just say something encouraging and I rose to meet their expectations? Which has got me thinking - Can you believe yourself into being successful at something? Research says......yes! You absolutely can! And I know on some level, people understand this because they encourage their children and other people, but we don't really do this for ourselves. In fact, we do the opposite. We tell ourselves we're not good enough, that we're wasting our time, that other people are better and we couldn't possibly measure up. I'm starting to realize that's just a really convenient excuse not to do the work. That's what it comes down to - you got to do the work. Physically and psychologically, you just got to do it or else nothing happens.

I've been reading a lot of books/articles about writing and writer's processes. Especially for my favorite authors. One of the most recommended books for beginning writers to read is "On Writing" by Steven King. From the very beginning - like when he was a kid - King told himself "this is what I want to do" and it was irrelevant if he sucked, because that's what he wanted to do. At some point, all the "great" artists had a shitty (or not so shitty) day job or some other obstacle that they had to overcome, while simultaneously writing their masterpieces. And - at some point - they all had a period where they felt like they couldn't do it anymore. Like, what's the point? Why am I bothering? During these periods, they might have succumbed to the all too human call of doubt and depression - some of them turned to addiction, lethargy or some other form of self-destruction. But, at some point in this darkness, they make the choice to start again. And that's when the magic happens.

I'm starting to realize I don't really know how things work. Do limitless possibilities really exist? How do we get from one place to another? Can seemingly impossible, immovable things be changed? If so, then how? I don't know. But I want to. Desperately. And, sometimes, I get a glimpse of understanding about what I need to do to make things happen, to change direction. When I look back on my life, it doesn't make any sense how I got here. However, I am starting to really understand one thing about myself. I am water. I make my own path. And god damn right I'm a Natural, at everything and anything I want to be a Natural at.

Will somebody

Let me see the light within the dark trees' shadows and

What's happenin'?

Lookin' through the glass find the wrong within the past knowin'

We are the youth

Cut until it bleeds, inside a world without the peace facing

A bit of the truth, the truth

Side tangent on a somewhat related note - this song reminds me of The Caster Chronicles (i.e., the book series that starts with "Beautiful Creatures"). I liked this book series because it was a paranormal romance but the main POV was the non-magical boy who falls in love with a magical girl. It was interesting, because it's usually the reverse - most paranormal romances have the girl as the main character. Anyway, in the books, Casters (which is what they call Witches in this book universe) usually only have one or two very specific powers. However, Lena Duchannes (the magical girl in question) is what they call a Natural - a Caster with amplified powers who can do pretty much anything with their powers. They don't have limits, except the ones they put on themselves. They are virtually omnipotent, which makes sense because their powers are almost god-like.

I mention this because the video for "Natural" has some occult influences. Or maybe they were just trying to be spooky. It was shot in an antebellum mansion and features mysterious people in either black or white. There's other symbolism - like the three crows, the moon in the background, the light bulb turning on but not fully illuminating anything. During the course of the video, we see a girl (a witch?) go through a sort of initiatory rite of ego death and rebirth - both a personal one (in the bathtub) and a public one (being buried). In a lot of secret societies, there's usually an initiation that mimics death and rebirth. For example, in the Skull & Bones, new recruits are placed in coffins at the start. In other groups, people are locked in a dark room or their heads are covered with black veils so that they can't see. Even in Christianity, baptism is just a simulation of rebirth. This is an important theme to humanity it seems - that you have to die, walk through the Underworld, and be reborn. It's bad enough we have to do that shit every lifetime, now we have to pretend to do it in real life? That shit's exhausting, folks. But it's important - we see a similar ritual in pretty much all cultures, historical and modern. It marks transformation and afterwards, you can't go back to being the same person you were. That person is dead.

I'm exhausted. Obviously, I've been thinking too much. Always thinking. Always in my head. At least it's a pretty fucking interesting place to be - well, I think so anyway. Final thought - this song makes me feel like I could burn down the world and then walk through the fire. Scary as that sounds, it's a good feeling. Video is below. Enjoy!

"Natural" Video

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie

The strangest thing happened just now. I was having a perfectly fine, happy day when a sudden pang of existentialist dread came over me. Enter Death Cab for Cutie.

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" has been featured in numerous TV shows and movies, mostly instrumental form, but I think I first remember hearing it in an episode of "Grey's Anatomy." That show is tough to watch - at least, the early season were. I think someone died every episode - patients, secondary characters, even main characters (but not Meredith, never Meredith, although she has a few close calls). I always kind of identified with Meredith Grey - smart, talented, with so many expectations and a difficult relationship with her mother. There's an episode where a patient is always in pain because of his affliction that he tells Christina (Meredith's best friend) that he lives his life at an 8 so it's become sort of this background that dulls every other part of his life. Later in the episode, she yells at McDreamy for being careless with Meredith's heart because "she lives her life at an 8....her pain on any given day is an 8." I wouldn't be that dramatic but it always surprises me how easy it is to pretend that it's not that hard. Of course, people see what they want to see. That helps.

Anyway, there's so much death and pain in that show but that's not what makes it hard to watch. It's the aftermath. That's what brings tears to this old soul's heart. What's left behind when there's nothing left to heal. In the second season, Izzy falls in love with Denny Duquette...and it's wild and innocent and beautiful. But then he dies, despite Izzy's best efforts, despite her risking her whole career, perhaps even risking her freedom. And that's not even the saddest part of their relationship. No...the saddest part comes a few seasons later, when Meredith meets Denny in the afterlife during a near-death experience. He hasn't moved on to Heaven (which is a obvious eventuality in the Grey's universe). Instead, he haunts the hospital and walks the hallways when - every once in awhile - he will walk through Izzy and he gets to feel her energy. Just for a moment before she continues walking. And in that moment, he's so happy. He'll do that until Izzy joins him, however long that takes. Isn't that so fucking sad?

In the story I'm writing, the heroine is an Immortal. Well, more accurately - due to circumstances in her life - she has been given the Curse of Agelessness. Damned for all eternity to watch the people she loves grow old and die. Or just die, in some cases. She could impart immortality on them, if she wanted, but if you understood the depth of that pain, would you? When the story starts, we meet her in this place - broken, bitter, and isolated by choice. Essentially, she vows never to love again, because the pain of loss is too great, now. As you can imagine, this doesn't exactly work for her. Typical Heroine's Journey - faced with tough choices and self reflection. But I read somewhere recently that the right choice is always the path of love, which always leads back to yourself. Pretty hippie dippie but makes sense to me.

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule

I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black

And I held my tongue as she told me,

Son, fear is the heart of love, so I never went back

That lyric - "fear is the heart of love" - always struck me, because it's such a bold-faced lie that nevertheless permeates everything in society now. But you can't love something you're afraid of. Fear isn't love...if anything, it's the opposite. I think his reference to Catholicism expertly underscores this point. I don't miss that about being Catholic - being afraid of losing God's love for not being perfect, afraid of being sent to hell for my petty girlish sins. The complete opposite of what Jesus taught. The ending described in the song is more peaceful, but it does frighten me a bit. But, if I believe in a universe with infinite possibilities - and I do - I have to accept that there might not be anything after death. No Heaven, no Hell, no next life, no do-overs. Just darkness. And, hopefully, someone to hold my hand as that darkness takes over. Like that couple in "The Notebook" who die at the same time.

I promise I'll choose a happy song tomorrow. However, I do feel that the dread has passed, probably to some other poor, unsuspecting Millennial. C'est la vie....

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" Video

"O'Death" as sung by Jen Titus

I was saving this song for today. The original song is from "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou," but this version makes a sinister song even darker and more beautiful, in a way. This version was used to introduce the Fourth Horseman in "Supernatural," during the Apocalypse/Lucifer story line. In the Bible, he arrives riding on a pale horse and his name is Death. In "Supernatural," they imply Death and God as old friends - so old that neither remembers who came first. This aligns well with a lot of Creation myths. First came Creation, then came Destruction, and out of Destruction comes more Creation, and on and on and on. And so the wheel turns.

Death has been personified in so many ways throughout time. There's the stereotypical Grim Reaper, with his black cloak and scythe, an image meant to be terrifying. Then there's the Angel of Death, a merciful, kind figure meant to guide souls back to Heaven (or Purgatory). Of course, the Angel isn't always kind, like in Exodus when he was sent to take all first born sons. All the images I've seen of this story portray the Angel of Death as a cloud of smoke or vapor, which may not be far from the truth. I've heard historical scientists saying that this particular event happened - some sort of poisonous gas, such as from nearby a volcanic fissure, may have reached towns in Egypt but the only ones affected would've been those sleeping low to the ground. I read somewhere that in Ancient Egypt, sleeping on the ground would've been a place of honor, and therefore reserved for the first born son in wealthier homes. Mind you, this is just a theory and one that presupposes that not everything in the Bible is fiction.

But my favorite personification of Death is like in "Meet Joe Black" or in the TV series "Dead Like Me." Death takes the form of ordinary people, which is not unlike real life. Death could be a child in the street who you swerve to avoid and end up in a ditch. Death could be a doctor that makes the wrong decision....or who makes the right one, but just isn't successful. It could be a vengeful ex-husband or a pregnancy complication or a wrong step. Death is unavoidable and, thus, has no reason to be dramatic or draw attention to itself. In fact, it's probably better if we don't notice death all around us or else nothing would get done. I watch/read "Game of Thrones," which incorporates the diversity of religious beliefs (mostly based on real life with some minor tweaks). My favorite is the Many-Faced God of Braavos. Arya, my favorite character (who actually makes an appearance in the books), becomes a servant of the Many-Faced God because she was drawn to it. Her fencing teacher would say to her, "There is but one God. And what do we say to the God of Death?" Her reply: "Not today."

But what is this that I can't see

With ice cold hands taking hold of me?

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold

Who will have mercy on your soul?

I've never been afraid of getting old but, now more than ever, I'm afraid of dying young. Of not having enough time. To spend with my son, to finish everything I've started, to be with loved ones. Afraid of dying before I've had a chance to live. I used to be sad that I couldn't do certain things while I was young, be with certain people while I was young. Now I feel lucky if I have a chance to anything while I'm here on Earth. I've been thinking seriously about my Bucket List lately - about how I really should write down the things I want to do before my time runs out and then start crossing them off. I know I'm still young and I think I'll always feel young, but I know living is temporary. I was talking to a coworker today and he was telling me that he didn't dress up for Halloween because he feels that -now that he's an adult - he should act like an adult. I replied, "Oh good...so I don't have to worry about that until I'm 60." He laughed, which is good. I don't think anyone's too old to dress up for Halloween....or too old for anything, anymore. That's what all those Inspirational Internet Quotes say, right? It's never too late to be the person you want to be. Well, I agree and I'm trying. Because, as they say in Braavos, valar morghulis - all men must die. That's not just a statement, it's a challenge. Who knows? Maybe I'm an Immortal, like Keanu Reeves. Oh. My. God. I just figured out something. Keanu Reeves is Death....that's why he rides the subway. Boom! Lawyered.

Now that we ended on a somewhat lighter note....Merry Samhain, all!

"O'Death" Video

"The Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen

A couple of weeks ago, I got my hair cut at this awesome salon. It was more alternative than your standard Super Cuts. I usually get my hair cut at Aveda, because my older sister's family owns a few of their salons but I thought I'd try this one out on a friend's suggestion. Was not disappointed. Aside from the great haircut and awesome stylist - who talked to me the whole time (which is rare) and gave me a hug when I left - I was really digging their music. A lot of it was old school punk and dark wave, with some newer alternative/indie stuff for good measure. Basically, the playlist was something I probably would've made myself. And I'm okay with that. Better than listening to Top 40 while someone's chopping off all my hair.

Anyway, one of the songs that came on that caught my attention was "The Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen. I love it because it's creepy and yet wistful at the same time. I think it's Ian McCulloch's voice - it's sad and soulful. Especially on this song. The lyrics are a little repetitive but you kind of get lost in the Spanish guitar riff and it's alright. Peaceful, like being overtaken by waves. Like "Iris." Sometimes simple is all you need.

The song meaning discussion boards say the song is about death, and it is....sort of. The song is more about Fate versus Free Will. How much are we really in control? Are we in control of any of it? I don't know sometimes. I get this feeling that I'm in the right place at the right time. That things are happening because that's how they're supposed to happen. And then I'm almost sure I affected the outcome of events by something I did, by some decision I made. I've been ruminating on this lately. I've also been trying to work on letting go and not worrying about what happens, as long as I do what I need to. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be. Que sera sera and all that jazz. It's hard but I'm getting better at it. I've been reading a lot about the concept of surrender. That the key is to not be afraid, that it doesn't mean you don't want what you want anymore, but having faith you'll be okay if life doesn't turn out exactly the way you want it. I'm getting better, but I'm still struggling with it and some days are better than others. Some hours, some minutes are better than others.

Shit. I didn't realize this was going to be another one of those damn philosophical posts. Y'all thought this was just another love song, some guy pining after a girl he can't have. Nope! The truth is we're all going to die and there's nothing we can do about it. Just have to enjoy the ride while it lasts. I think I speak for everyone here when I say - fuck you, Ian McCulloch....I prefer anger instead of melancholy with my New Wave Punk music.

In starlit nights I saw you 

So cruelly you kissed me 

Your lips a magic world 

Your sky all hung with jewels 

The killing moon 

Will come too soon

Anyway, I hope you had a chance to step outside and look at the Blood Moon. It was beautiful. Even now, I can see it through my writing room window. I think I'll make a wish on it tonight. Good night, my dears.

"The Killing Moon" Video

Amy Winehouse, Dead at 27

Amy Winehouse, troubled singer of such hits as "Rehab", was found dead today in her house.  She was 27 years old--barely the age of my older sister.  Although I doubt this surprised anyone, it's still sad.  Aside from her talent as an R&B singer, she was perhaps more commonly known for her alcohol and drug addictions and mental health issues, jumping in and out of rehab centers and psychiatric facilities.  The cause of her death is cited as unknown right now, but we all know what will eventually be reported.  No link for this one; I'm sure it's all over the Internet if you want to know more. 

Amy Winehouse
1983-2011