How to Change Your Mind

Sometimes I think I'll get a new house at some point. Then, I look around my little place and think of how nice it is to not have to deal with cleaning a larger space and mowing a larger yard and how I don't sink all my income into a house, and I drop it. That doesn't stop me from looking, though. I've become quite a little snoop with houses for sale, and with some that I'd just like to buy even though they're not for sale.

Yesterday was a snoop day. And I was snooping in on the rich people and their multi-million dollar homes that they no longer want.

That's when I found the house that has the pool I'm going to have when I do move (let me dream, okay?) The pool had the requisite waterfall, of course, the hot tub, the rock wall landscaping with both the deep and shallow ends, and all the privacy of a home sitting on a hill on an exclusive boulevard in Brentwood. I admit that in my heart of hearts and deep within the fibers of my being, I'm so not a Brentwood person. I am, however, a cool pool person. And, this, gang, is the pool.

As I took the virtual tour of this house, I kept wondering what type of person gets to have this house. Who was born into this, or what correct decisions were made to allow for this, or who worked themselves so hard day in and day out so that they could live in this house and raise their family here with this pool?

After a few more clicks, I found that the place was built in 2005. Okay, so there are no fond family memories. A few more clicks, and I was able to see that the place wasn't decorated all that well. It was okay, but clearly the money went into the house itself rather than the decorating. Hmmm…

Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. A few more clicks and a google later, I'd found the name of the person who is selling this place AND his profession. No, he's not a doctor or a lawyer, he's not a finance guy and he's not in the medical field or in insurance (lots of old money in Nashville from insurance.) No, gang, our guy with the $2+ million dollar home on the exclusive boulevard in the haughty neighborhood with the amazing pool gets to have all this because he owns, all across Tennessee, Adult Video Bookstores.

I'm not even kidding.

It's the house that naked built. And now I don't want it. Or its pool…ESPECIALLY its pool, ever.

-b

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

I wrote at a new place today. There were 'roach traps' in the room. Nice. We still managed to write an up-tempo, positive song. Go figure.

Then, a lovely woman from the YMCA communications department called me personally to apologize for yesterday's Zumba camera debacle. Yes, I sent an email. I know. I'm becoming that person. I accept it, but there comes a time in life when it's not okay to let things go. Sometimes you just have to take people to task. Hat's off, though, to the woman for making the phone call. She had NO idea if I were going to yell and scream or be accepting of her apology. (Yes, I made it easy on her. I'm not a monster...most days.)

Later, an artist/friend of mine of mine called me on his way home from the studio after recording a song I wrote with Tony and Barry. He was ecstatic about the cut. Gang, that just so rarely happens. I think the only other artist to call me personally about how much they loved a cut of a song was Jeff Easter when he finished, "Over and Over." I guess artists just don't think about that stuff, but I can remember most every detail of that conversation, and today's. Funny.

And, this evening, I had my first experience with designer foils. They are for walls and furniture, and I'd never played around with them. Gang, now that I can do this to walls, I don't know how I'll ever stay humble.

There's your snapshot.

-b

I Can't Talk About It: My Worst Fear

My worst fear: me, in my Zumba class, being filmed and then put on TV. I would've rather had touched a snake. I would've rather HELD the snake, and that makes me short of breath even typing it.

Today, the camera crew came into the Zumba class. They were filming some guy and some girl--wanna-be reality TV stars, I find out later. (Shoot, they could BE reality TV stars--I wouldn't know.) It took me a few minutes to realize that this wasn't for a quick TV news segment which I could stay safely out of. I left the class early, of course.

But, yeah. There were cameras, there were cameramen crowding me and there were some pretty angry people who left even before I figured out how bad it could really get. Someone put a sign on the classroom door advising that the class was being filmed AFTER the class started. That was helpful.

...and yeah, I can't talk about it anymore. It's just that...no...I really can't discuss this right now...

-b

Regrets

A reminder from a yahoo! news story:

"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated," [Ted] Hughes wrote to his son, who committed suicide at 47 last week at his home in Fairbanks, Alaska, 46 years after Nicholas' mother, poet Sylvia Plath, killed herself.

"And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all."

No, you didn't listen to that hard enough, so I'm repeating it:

"And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all."

-b

Streaking

Today, I took Pete and Bernice to the dog park. We were having a perfectly lovely time of running and playing, and they were interacting with other dogs (hooray), when I noticed an odd streak down Bernice's side.

Upon closer inspection, it was dog poo.

Well, great. Stinking great.

-b

Calculator

Every time I use my desktop computer and type for a bit, the calculator application opens up. Sometimes I have two or three calculator windows open throughout my work. Right now I have two.

I could not carry this secret in my soul any longer.

-b

Boundaries--The Dark Post

Today someone who has a history of clinical depression and dumping it in my lap told me that they spent an entire day just crying. This is so far from the first time that I've been handed this burden that I cannot even begin to recall the day it started.

I said to them, "If you're unwilling to do the work which depression requires, then stop asking me to do it for you."

Sounds a little harsh when I read it back, but I'm tired. As one who fully understands the toll depression can take on your deepest soul, I'm learning to impose boundaries as I grow up, even when it's hard. There are professionals, there is medication, and there are options. There is not, however, a dumping ground at my feet, and I cannot fix you. (I submit my incredibly flawed self as proof.)

Be forewarned now. I'm getting tired of holding my opinions back so that other people don't have to feel uncomfortable. No one seems to mind in the least what their words do to me and in return I'm caring less and less about keeping the peace these days.

To quote a friend who I'm finally really starting to understand: Don't go there unless you really, really, REALLY want to. You may not like how either one of us look after we get back.

-b

Ironic Selflessness

I told Jim tonight at dinner that I've written two songs in two days that I especially love. This is unheard of. Magic twice in one week? And then two days back to back? One is slow and one is fast. Again, unheard of to get BOTH that I love.

Jim pointed out that I "seem to write the best when I don't think I can write anymore." He then very generously offered to beat me down mentally as needed.

I declined, but I thought the offer was selfless on his part, nonetheless.

-b

Press for Me!

My beautiful friend Irene Williams was generous enough to include me in one of her feature stories this month. (You'll have to copy and paste the link because I don't know how to embed it.)

http://hernashville.com/her/spare-room

Irene is one of the most talented people I know. She can make you sound organized and together even if you don't know which end is up. I should know. ...and she is available for your website and publicity needs.

Here is Irene's newest endeavor.

-b

Words

I haven't forgotten you, I'm just running low on words right now. The words I do manage to scrounge up have to be used for the things that pay the bills. I know you understand.

Give me a few days here. I think the words will back soon. At least they usually are.

-b