Things that make me think I can write better

When I’m trying to be a productive writer, and I use the term writer quite loosely, there are a few things that I like to use to trick my brain into being more focused….and hopefully more creative and clear.

*Eddie Vedder radio on Pandora (this is an obvious one…obviously!)

*I wear shoes.  Yes, I wear shoes.  It makes me think that I am going to work, and am therefore more productive.  Sometimes I’m snuggled up in a blanket at 1 a.m. with shoes on.  It’s a tough job, people.  The struggle is real.

*Hoods and scarves.  I cocoon my whole head up so that only my eyes can peek out.  I like to think that it keeps the creative juices warm and toasty and traps them so they can only escape through my chubby little fingers.

*Candy…love a good sugar buzz

*Caffeine…nothing helps out that sugar buzz like a little eyeball-popping caffeine.  Lately, I’ve just taken to drinking a double shot of espresso.  No latte, no cappuccino, no americano….just gimme the good stuff.  It helps my fingers type faster and with much less precision.

*Yellow legal pads, post it notes, and my favorite rollerball pens.  Sometimes, simply shopping for these items and never opening the packages is helpful in writing….it encourages that intention to write something important.

*Cooking something in the crock pot.  This one is huge.  As a mother and wife and general do-everything-in-the-household type of person…it really helps me focus when I know that dinner/lunch/whatever is cooking itself.  Multi-tasking at its finest!!

*sometimes I venture into Twisted Sister radio on Pandora too…for a little energy boost.

 

Can dreams come true?

I like weird dreams.  Dreams that you can barely even explain…you know the ones.  When you say the words out loud, trying desperately to paint the picture of what happened and where you were but it wasn’t there, you feel like a complete fool.

This dream is not quite like that.

It begins here:

I’m sitting at a lunch table in my high school gymnasium.  I remember the blue circle seats.  I was sitting with someone I knew, but I can’t recall who it truly was.  It felt like we were friends.

I glanced over my left shoulder and saw my mother at the head table, near the stage.  I saw her from behind.  I recognized her twisted bun.  A man approached her table and hunkered down to her left her.  I gasped.  My heart began to beat faster and I stood up.  I shot up, actually.

Next thing I know, I’m crouched to my mom’s right side saying ‘Want to introduce me to your friend?’  I have some shit-eating grin on my face as I look to him for the answer and not my mom.  My mom was merely the portal.

He smiles and opens his arms as if to say ‘come and sit on my lap.’  I did not sit on his lap.

It’s Eddie.  Eddie fucking Vedder.

We proceed to chat for approximately 4 sentences about my high school gym and how great it is.

Blink of the eyes and I’m back in my blue circle lunchtable seat with a co-worker…different person than was initially sitting at my table.  She’s gushing and asks me if I gave him one of my business cards.  I hadn’t.  I felt completely deflated and totally elated at the same time.

The dream lasted mere moments in the 5 minutes I snoozed back to sleep after my alarm went off.  Interesting all the things that can transpire in 5 minutes in your brain, isn’t it?

Das Legs of das Boots!!

Bootlegs Yo!

AH!!!!!!

Now I can relive my local Pearl Jam show and all of Eddie’s smiling little anecdotes all the time.

Every. Single. Fucking. Day. It’s not every day that Eddie Vedder tells the crowd that they’re attending the best show of the whole tour.

This is where I huff a little breath on my fingernails and shine them on my shoulder…

Happy 50th birthday to my favorite!!

Eddie. Eddie Vedder.  I love that man.

And he is 50!  I was never quite certain of Eddie’s age… 50. So great.  I’m happily envisioning him kicking back, drinking wine, rosy cheeked, squeezing his kids.  I hope he’s savoring some delicious morsels and belly laughing with his best friends. 

I sincerely hope that when I’m 50 I’ve inspired some young people.  I also hope I’m rosy cheeked and belly laughing.  That is happiness. 

Thanks, Eddie!  Happy birthday!!

I finally had another dream about Eddie Vedder

Thank goodness.  I’ve had many sleeps since my last dream with an Eddie appearance. 

It began at a show. Not a Pearl Jam show, but a sort of lip sync/air guitar variety show.  I was chosen to perform a Tom Petty tune and was pretty stoked to show my skills.  I recall having an awfully strange, blonde, Paige boy wig on.  Perhaps it was my actual hair.  I know not. 

As another performer was onstage, I spotted Eddie. I approached him knowing he would respect that I was in the show.  He was Eddie… although his face was young, pink and dewy, with no beard or sexy stubble in sight.  His curly hair was to his ears and it was so greasy and shiny.  Each curl around his face was shorter and more defined.  Maybe it was because of there being no beard on his face, but his teeth looked bigger and a little bit buck-toothed. 

I approached him and said something to the effect of: Hi Eddie, I just wanted to say that I was at the show in Milwaukee.  Great show, thank you.

The look of confusion and disgust on his shiny unfamiliar face sank my warm, adoring heart.  I walked away, head hanging low… onto my Tom Petty performance.

On stage, I strummed the first bars of the song on my imaginary guitar and leaned into the microphone to lip the opening line of the song.  To my dismay, I lipped the wrong words!! And then my guitar strumming became off beat!! The horror!!

I glanced over at Eddie after my on-stage nose dive.  He shook his glistening head in even more disgust at me.  I felt pitiful. 

Although it wasn’t the dream I dream about… where we become best friends and he brings me on tour to entertain him… I am grateful to have his strangely shiny presence grace my brain.

Yield!

Woah.  Woahhh!!!! Just look at how close I was to the Pearl Jam stage! 

Ok…it doesn’t seem all that close…but it’s the closest I’ve ever been.  My other seats were way way way up in the nosebleed seats at Wrigley.  This was a vast improvement. 

I can’t quite put into words how unbelievably great the show was.  It was spectacular!  So spectacular that, amongst the crowd of phones recording and photographing, I only took 3 photos total.  Concerts are an experience that should be savored. 

From the start…from Pendulum to Mind Your Manners to Corduroy…from Baba with a special guest from Cheap Trick…It had the making of an unforgettable show. 

All of Yield.  ALL of YIELD!! 

Two encores, all the great songs that everyone wants to hear…Black, Alive, Yellow Led, nearly three and a half hours of non stop jams, cheeky and sweet anecdotes from Eddie, and we sang happy birthday to Tom Petty! I loved it all.  It was magical.  Magical music that turns fleeting moments into long lasting memories. 

Pearl Jam tonight!

 

Holy smokes!  The day has finally arrived that Eddie Vedder and friends roll into my town, my turf, my favorite!!

I can barely wait.  I’ve been pacing around the house, cleaning, cooking, changing clothes and looking in the mirror over and over again.  I’ve turned into a little bit of a girl over this whole thing.  Normally, when girls have an exciting event, they go all ga-ga and obsess about what to wear.  And normally I find that more than mildly annoying.   Why is it that girls are always worried about what to wear?  Will I be whisked away backstage because of my new jeans or will Eddie do a shout out to me and my perfectly matched yet unmatched cardigan??

I think not.

But here I am, checking myself out in the mirror over and over like a stupid twenty-something single girl!.

At any rate, I anticipate an evening filled with great people, cocktails, laughter, mind blowing music, and *fingers crossed* several poor choices.  I really hope they play Immortality since I didn’t hear it at Wrigley last summer.  I hope that there’s no douchebags sitting in our section that thinking they are the epitome of the PJ Superfan and record the whole show on their giant iphone 6.  I also hope we’re not next to the annoying concert girls.  You know what I’m talking about.  They scream.  They sing loudly the whole time.  They get drunk and spill overpriced beer on you.

But hey, that’s what concerts are all about.  The music and the weirdo people that love it!  Cheers!

 

Immortality

You may not know the importance of the outfit I am wearing today…I didn’t connect the dots until moments after I heard the news. 

Turns out…my ultimate band, Pearl Jam, announced additional dates to their fall tour.  Um, guess who’s city is on the list???

Um, yeah, obviously…this girl’s. 

Ecstatic!! 

My town, my backyard, my turf, my people…my favorite songs played in my favorite city…for me (and only me)!

Surely I know someone who knows someone who can get me backstage?? Surely I can bribe someone’s brother’s cousin to let me into the sanctuary that is the backstage?? Or sound check?? I would be ok sitting on the sidelines for sound check. 

Or….secretly cheersing some bottles of beer together at one of the city’s best dive bars.  With the whole band and crew and even all the wives and shit too.  Yeah, I would be ok with that. 

The outfit.  Strangely enough, I am wearing the same outfit that I wore to my very first Pearl Jam show in Chicago at Wrigley last summer.  And there I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed…which I mostly despise…and there it was.  Music for me!!

When you choose clothes, the universe knows…and it makes things happen that mean something…and if you pay attention, you find these strange connections all over the place.

I am hoping there is some connection that leads my hand to shake Eddie’s….eh, who am I kidding, I need a hug. I deserve a hug!!!!

I am not athletic.

The lovelies and I caught a few ice skating performances on the Olympics last night. 

I remember being young and watching in awe…gawking at the girls in sparkly outfits spinning and hurtling themselves through the chilly air.  I always wondered how they got those nude colored leggings around their skates without tearing holes in them. 

There was a woman who skated to Pink Floyd last night.  Shine on you crazy diamond. 

I began to think of all the great songs I would skate to if I were talented and not a weak ankled, fat knee’d, awkward faced, cynical mom with unachievable, athletic, childhood dreams. 

Of course, you know me, and I would have to skate to Eddie.  I noticed everyone tries to skate to beautiful and moving pieces of music.  I would have to make a medley of Pearl Jam.   A little Chris Cornell and Soundgarden action could be great too. 

Maybe Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch? Color Me Badd??  Vanilla Ice???  Salt n Peppa?  Matchbox 20??  Stone Temple Pilots?  Nirvana???

Grunge is like poetry, arguably, and so is ice skating, I guess. 

I could wear a signature Cobain cardigan.  I could have a pair of Doc Marten ice skates fashioned as well.

I wouldn’t smile.  I would keep an air of angst and dirt and just enough self doubt.  I might even flip people off but I would school some fucking ice skating haters.  I would be so good on those triple axles and so visually and musically ironic, no one could handle it. 

I would be the best role model for young girls.  My own kids would roll their eyes and say, ugh mom, not Pearl Jam again. 

Day 2

As I listen to one of my favorite Pearl Jam songs here in my car, I’m reminded how small changes can turn into big changes and big changes can turn into lifetimes. 

A lifetime of good or not so good.  Let’s change for the good already.  I’m hoping I’m on my way.  It’s taken me a long time to figure it out and to have the guts to go forward with it.  It’s scary. 

Eddie sings to me and makes me feel better. Hearts and thoughts they fade…fade away. I changed by not changing at all. 

Brilliance. 

What would you do if you could start over? Would you? What changes would you make?  What are we waiting for and what are we so afraid of?

Spiders.