Sunday, March 22, 2009
7 to 47 in milliseconds ...
Believe it or not, this was my first radio, near as I can remember 1969ish, an AM transister run on a 9 Volt battery. I also had a record player, and later graduated to digital clock radio (middle school years), and boom box (high school) with a cassette recorder. (Not an odd jump that I end up transcriber of every word, since it's a lot like listening to music and picking out the exact lyrics.)
But when I was very, very young, it was me and my pink poodle transister which I received one Christmas from my Grandma H. I listened to it late at night, and I remember the trick of licking the battery to see if it had any zap left, because what was a little girl to do when her 9Volt died?!?!?
I always say my music tastes are "ecclectic" and it's difficult for me to pin down my favorite artist, etc. I have the same trouble with books and quite actually a number of things, if I'm hard pressed to list a favorite color, flavor, day of the week or season of the year.
It's possible my many personalities have yet to gel.
When I used to go to the movies with my best friend, she'd always ask, in so many words, "Which character most reminded you of you?"
This started way, way back and kind of ended by the time we hit "St. Elmo's Fire," and she could very easily name which character she was (Demi Moore because no matter what movie, she would pick the "hot" chick), and I identified with a number of them all mixed up together. By the time we got to SEFire, it was 1985, I lived out west, and came home to visit, seeing this movie with her while pregnant with my second child.
It got so it was no fun for her to ask me any more because I was clearly a split every time, always trying to gel all the people together into the person I most felt like I was at the time. And she might have been miffed, because I didn't really like "St. Elmo's Fire" and the brat pack were kind of a bunch of, well ... brats!!! ... or so it seemed to me, since I already had a husband, a child, owned a house and under my faded, untucked flannel shirt, my jeans were unbuttoned because I was heading out of the first trimester of that second pregnancy.
This mixed bag thing happens, though, every time I read a book or watch a movie. I don't associate with any one character, and it's usually from several sides of the fence that I end up seeing things, feeling "connected" on multiple avenues, and then if I have some time on my brain's hand, I go down six or eight side streets.
It is why I enjoyed my second stint in college, because while I focused on English, it too was a mult-faceted major brain tease!
I loved having the excuse to critically compare and contrast everything under the sun. I absolutely love looking into thing at great depth and finding something new each time to critically, compare and contrast to a seeming end ... only to find out that if you dissect the end, you can get right back in the middle of things, and critically compare and contrast until your brain bleeds and cries for sleep!
You can't ask me if I'm a "Lennon or McCartney," "a dog or cat person," or a "futon vs. conventional bed," which by the way, was dating criteria for a guy I dated in the mid 90s!
He was a Cat/Lennon/Futon-type and he was always trying to fit me into that square peg into my ... okay, we won't go there.
At the time, I didn't feel like I aligned with any of the Beatles, I had cats but look who loves dogs just as much, and I've spanned many types of bed situations (which probably is a whole other blog with footnotes).
So, it's difficult to pin the tail on the ass of my multi-faceted stubborn donkey brain and bleeding heart, you know?
Where does this all lead ...
... It leads to me, last night, very few rows back at center stage, seeing the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band live. Who knew things were possible, and who would have imagined that a band I listenedd to a billion years ago on my little poodle radio, would have their stop in our area prior to heading Canada and the rest of their tour.
When they sang, "Mr. Bonjangles," the moment my goofy multi-chambered heart was waiting for, I might as well have been 7 (instead of just turned 47) years old, lying on my Sears white frame bed listening to my pink poodle radio, living in this house.
So, sometimes, for brief seconds, everything gels. You know?!?!?!
A person can be all, yeah, so yellow house/Sears bed/Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, dude!
At 7 and/or 47!
It's all the same thing, except that it very likely isn't.
Okay, everyone critically respond, compare and contrast yourselves silly.
Try it, you might like it.