Ummmm.... that about sums it up....
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Monday, January 19, 2009
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Day 27: Music
Can I admit to being in love with David Archuleta's single "Crush"? It makes me feel so happily seventeen years old and longing for the glory days of the boy-band. (Ah, 98 degrees, where did you go?)
Music is an incredibly powerful thing for me--I associate memories with it just as much, if not more, than other senses like sight or smell. I was lucky that I grew up in a home that had lots of music--the Carpenters, Roger Whitaker, Billy Joel. Either there was music on or my mother was singing. Maybe that's why my brain learned to hard wire those sounds to different memories. In the 5 years that we've been married, my (fabulous) husband has also made me yearly soundtracks to our life--songs that bring back the memories of that particular year. I LOVE that. Truthfully, if I ever do manage to write a book, be on the lookout for the soundtrack to it, because, for me at least, I know there will be one.
Tonight's sketch are songs that, for me, bring up memories. (I'd love to hear some of yours, if you have them.)
Music is an incredibly powerful thing for me--I associate memories with it just as much, if not more, than other senses like sight or smell. I was lucky that I grew up in a home that had lots of music--the Carpenters, Roger Whitaker, Billy Joel. Either there was music on or my mother was singing. Maybe that's why my brain learned to hard wire those sounds to different memories. In the 5 years that we've been married, my (fabulous) husband has also made me yearly soundtracks to our life--songs that bring back the memories of that particular year. I LOVE that. Truthfully, if I ever do manage to write a book, be on the lookout for the soundtrack to it, because, for me at least, I know there will be one.
Tonight's sketch are songs that, for me, bring up memories. (I'd love to hear some of yours, if you have them.)
- How to Save a Life by The Fray : 4 months of bed rest in 2006
- You'll Think of Me ("Take your cat and leave my sweater") by Keith Urban: morning sickness (It still makes me queasy just to hear it. No joke.)
- The Smoothie Song by Nickel Creek : driving in our Blue Altima through the canyons of eastern Utah/western Wyoming when we moved to North Carolina.
- Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen : Seven Peaks Water Park, 6th grade, on the lazy river
- I Want it That Way by the Backstreet Boys : I think about trying to jump through the entire song as an Especially for Youth Counselor in 1999 and feeling cool and pretty for the first time in my life.
- Lemon by U2: My introduction to U2 as a band, this song from high school puts me in the backseat of Marianne Power's old Nova as the cool girls in the front seat rocked out.
- Ordinary Love by Rascall Flatts : This one reminds me of the fall that I got engaged to my first fiance, a whole different story, and driving to pick up my wedding dress.
- Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon : a bend in an on ramp in Los Angeles on the I-5, late at night when it was empty. (This song is a good one for that whole period of my life.)
- Make Me Lose Control (turn the radio up, for that sweet sound...) by Eric Carmen : All of a sudden, I'm 8 years old again and riding the incredibly thrilling roller-coaster "COLOSSUS" at Lagoon with my dad and feeling so proud of myself for being the only kid brave enough to go with him.
- Jump for My Love by the Pointer Sisters : my 7th birthday and some girls in the street doing a clogging routine to this song.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Day 16: Inspiration
In one of the "writing" books that I've been reading, it asks "Where do you get your inspiration?" It further goes on to ask what kind of clothes you write best in, and what kind of setting. Well.
Apparently, I write best wearing my Nick and Nora pink "skiing bunny" pajama pants and one of my husband's sweatshirts. My bedhead hair taps the energy from the universe, but especially so if I went to bed with *wet* hair. Having my kids jumping on me, like they are right now, helps. Gets those creative juices flowing. If said children are in dire need of a nose wipe, that must just help me write faster, if not better. If another one of those children are screaming from the bathroom for a new roll of toilet paper (which we happen to be out of) all the better. Add to this Inspiration Soup the following visual:
Last Christmas, my sweet husband repaired a laptop computer of ours that had a broken hardrive. (May it rest in peace.) He ordered the new hardrive and put it all together for me. Keep in mind, this gift required enough forethought to order parts and enough time when I wasn't around to put the whole thing together. It was exceedingly thoughtful, and on Christmas morning, I was delighted by his homemade gift.
Fast forward a mere 4 or 5 hours. Christmas afternoon/evening. Someone (okay, we don't know who, but I'm not going to admit that it was probably me) left the computer on the floor. Sweet Husband goes toward to couch to give The Kitteh her once-a-year affectionate Christmas pet, and he hears a slight *crunch*. Upon moving the blanket that the computer was under and opening it for inspection, we see that the liquid crystal screen of the refurbished Lappy has shattered. But you can still see the screen. It's just cracked.
Now, fast forward slowly over the months and watch with me--like on of those PBS science shows that shows the petals of a flower unfolding--as the splinters in the screen slowly start spreading black patches. This march of death kind of starts at the top of the screen and spreads from the cracks. At first, it looks like a big squashed spider. By now, it looks like a "New York at Night" sattelite picture. In order for me to see any particular window that I want to work on or look at, it requires moving the window waaaaay down to the bottom. If I want to close the window, I just start clicking under the black parts of the screen until I find the "X" button that I can no longer see.
Oh, and my "L" key is gone, so I have to hit the little knobby thing where the key should be.
This, my friends, is the machine and the inspiration that is going to help me write The Great American Novel. But for now, I'd better go come up with some toilet paper....
Apparently, I write best wearing my Nick and Nora pink "skiing bunny" pajama pants and one of my husband's sweatshirts. My bedhead hair taps the energy from the universe, but especially so if I went to bed with *wet* hair. Having my kids jumping on me, like they are right now, helps. Gets those creative juices flowing. If said children are in dire need of a nose wipe, that must just help me write faster, if not better. If another one of those children are screaming from the bathroom for a new roll of toilet paper (which we happen to be out of) all the better. Add to this Inspiration Soup the following visual:
Last Christmas, my sweet husband repaired a laptop computer of ours that had a broken hardrive. (May it rest in peace.) He ordered the new hardrive and put it all together for me. Keep in mind, this gift required enough forethought to order parts and enough time when I wasn't around to put the whole thing together. It was exceedingly thoughtful, and on Christmas morning, I was delighted by his homemade gift.
Fast forward a mere 4 or 5 hours. Christmas afternoon/evening. Someone (okay, we don't know who, but I'm not going to admit that it was probably me) left the computer on the floor. Sweet Husband goes toward to couch to give The Kitteh her once-a-year affectionate Christmas pet, and he hears a slight *crunch*. Upon moving the blanket that the computer was under and opening it for inspection, we see that the liquid crystal screen of the refurbished Lappy has shattered. But you can still see the screen. It's just cracked.
Now, fast forward slowly over the months and watch with me--like on of those PBS science shows that shows the petals of a flower unfolding--as the splinters in the screen slowly start spreading black patches. This march of death kind of starts at the top of the screen and spreads from the cracks. At first, it looks like a big squashed spider. By now, it looks like a "New York at Night" sattelite picture. In order for me to see any particular window that I want to work on or look at, it requires moving the window waaaaay down to the bottom. If I want to close the window, I just start clicking under the black parts of the screen until I find the "X" button that I can no longer see.
Oh, and my "L" key is gone, so I have to hit the little knobby thing where the key should be.
This, my friends, is the machine and the inspiration that is going to help me write The Great American Novel. But for now, I'd better go come up with some toilet paper....
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