She might not be a giant

After memorizing a few songs on the ukulele and deciding that I don't suck anymore, it's time to suck at something again. Keeps me humble. So I've taken up songwriting.

So far I've only written one song about a very dear online friend... the first one I've kept for more than a few months. It wasn't too hard writing the lyrics. I'm definitely better at that than the melody-writing part. I'm all about simple, humble melodies and quirky lyrics, much like plenty of They Might Be Giants songs... not that all their melodies are simple.

On myspace music, you're supposed to list the musicians who inspire you. Since I don't have a page, I'll list them here:

They Might Be Giants
Leon Redbone
Billie Holiday
Shirley Horn
Ella Fitzgerald
Tom Waits

...to name a few. I love lots of bands/musicians like these people, but these are the big 6 who make we want to perform myself. Someday, I hope to write songs that are actually good, not just entertaining. Life gets boring if I don't set a new goal every now and then, unrelated to the normal goals like... read more, write more, exercise, look up new lesson plans, etc etc etc.

Here's a link to my youtube thread if anyone is interested: http://www.youtube.com/my_videos?feature=mhw4

The best people.

I'm sitting in front of a man at a cafe who just finished singing the most beautiful blues solo along with the music that's playing. It was an instrumental blues song. He started moaning along with it in this just-gritty-enough tone. He's a gentlemanly-looking guy--one of those Irish-looking hats, a navy jacket, and khakis with a polo shirt. He's speaking matter-of-factly about the Vietnam war and being homeless for a while.

"Lucky to be alive," he comments, and talks about someone's sister (maybe his, I couldn't hear) who took him in and helped him get back on track. He's basically offering up his life story to a woman who complimented him on his singing, and I wish it had been me. I love people like this--people who have done so much that they're overflowing. They're probably either lonely or just naturally loquacious; either condition makes them eager to unload on anyone who will listen.

I don't know if he's particularly wise. I don't even know if he's telling the truth. Still, I love encounters like this. This person makes me want to get off my ass and do as much as I can. So no matter who he really is, I'm thankful for him today.

Family newsletters

They're kind of like facebook status messages that you can't click away from. I just read a "New Years Resolution" newsletter on someone's fridge. Why would anyone waste postage on those things? You never see those people; it's not as if you're going to check up on them and their goal-keeping abilities. Why are people volunteering this useless information to friends of friends and distant cousins?

Children

I've been thinking a lot about whether or not I really want children. It's a scary thought, giving up so much time and energy for this thing that torments you internally for 9 months. What's scarier still is that people assume that all women have this button inside them that is pushed the second that little guy or girl comes out. Sure, these people don't normally assume that these instincts we're granted will answer every single question; but the mysticism surrounding women and their children disturbs me more than anything.

It seems unfair to make this assumption at all. Some women aren't fit to be mothers. Some women are fit, but no matter what kinds of internal prompts they receive, their heart won't be in the job. I'm wary of the unconditional love people talk about the moment they set their eyes on their baby's face. It can't be this universal thing; that's too hard to believe. It's easy for people who were prepared and wanted it or have at least warmed up to the idea. But I--who am scrambling against the clock trying to accomplish my goals, constantly aware that the relatively free schedule of a college student is running out--I am terrified of losing what little free time I'll have left.

It sounds really selfish, I'm sure. I cannot say that I admire mothers on the whole; it's just another thing to be. Regardless of the profession or life choice, what I admire is a devoted and well-informed person. So it is the devoted and well-informed mothers I admire. I guess I just can't avoid the question that keeps running through my head: Just because I have this uterus, am I forced to use it to house another human life--one that I'll be responsible for for years?

Selfish as it might sound, I'm more concerned about fulfilling my own goals and supporting the dreams of those around me who already exist than dreaming about the unborn children I might make one day. Or maybe it's not selfish. No one calls a childless man selfish when he's not feeling paternal.

Anyway... felt good to get that out. This isn't some decision I need to make any time soon. It's just something that's been gnawing on me for a while.

Dreams, 1/9/10

I can't keep track of how many times I've written about dreams--once, twice, or never at all. And since this is just a casual online journal, I can't be bothered to backtrack. So here's an [another] installment on weird dreams:

Last night I dreamed that my dad was chasing family members around with one of those dull training epees and whipping us with it. It really hurt, so I had to get a wooden spoon and start whapping him with it to make him stop. He didn't understand why we were so upset. Then I found out that I had a son I didn't know about. Who knows how that's possible? But his name was Jonothan, and mom introduced me to him, reminding me that I had been pregnant for the past 9 months, and TADA!

So I strapped him into my monster truck and took him to meet his father, who I assumed was my boyfriend. He ran a hot dog stand on the side of a freeway, just like the guy in that old 1950s cartoon. I took a detour first to my grandma's house. She had died, and these gangsters were using it for a meth lab. I ran over all of them. By this time, Jonothan had learned how to talk and was saying that he was scared. I replied that it's ok, because they were "bad guys."

Finally, I found Jake grilling dogs on the side of the road. He seemed surprisingly calm and even happy about having a son. That's when I started to suspect that this pregnancy was some sort of shady conspiracy put together by he and my mother. You know how those men get the baby fever... Of course, I woke up just a few seconds later.

Real resolution

I always resolve to get healthier and read more and stuff like that. All I really want this year is to be more honest, and by that I mean bite my tongue less. There are too many moments where I missed out on showing people the real me--people who are going to be in my life forever and should know me by now. But to save a lot of time and aggravation, anything that will cause an uncomfortable silence or an argument dissolves before it can escape my mouth. Some of it is necessary, but most of it isn't. There will be baby steps, but this is going to be a more honest year for me.

Oops

I can't say much on the subject. But apparently I didn't know someone as well as I thought. Maybe I knew that person, and I ignored a lot of the things that make us incompatible. We'll always be friends, but I foresee a lot of arguments on the horizon. There's no rule in my friendship handbook that says we have to have everything in common, but a few more things would make this easier. Oh well. This happens a lot.