y'all can't all be wrong: SOTW Vol 3: Surrogated Midlife Crisis

Artist: Tina & the B-Side Movement
Song: Play That Fool
Album: Salvation
Year: 1996

I fell asleep with my head on my computer's keyboard last night. Technically, my head was resting on the wrist pad -- it's definitely more comfortable that way, but either way I haven't done that since my nearly role-playing-extremist software days at The Evergreen State College. It's a shame that it hasn't happened more.

In my family I'm the baby by a mile. Now that I have acquired some years, it's a bit freaky thinking about the age of my immediate family -- so much so that I've decided that I'm going to start living peoples' midlife crises for them. I'll surrogate their midlife crises now in exchange for not having mine later. Someone needs to worry for them -- we can't have too many people dancing around naively happy at age 45. I'm all for happiness, but I like freaking out too. So if I am allowed to freakout about 45 at 31, then I'll simultaneously keep my worry cup full and preserve the world's happiness balance.

And it's funny how the years roll by They just rolled by I never realized That was all that's left is wasted time.

Cognizance of destiny's squiggly line is bit tricky: there's definite admiration in a waylaid course towards personal definition. On the other hand denial of *wasted time* is manifest bullshit and extreme laziness. If I had to tag a personal definition on certainty -- it'd be found in the moments where I know I'm wasting my time. It's crazy scary too -- sloths can rationalize much better than they can hang from trees -- and if I had to define my hell it would be the moments I rationalize my indolence.

Sigh. Life will take you to the stratosphere of regret faster than imaginable; and then, paradoxically, the heights of reflection will leave you with too much time to ponder what can't be undone. And it isn't greatness that nixes regret. Or maybe it is -- though it's tough to test the theory. You for sure don't nix regret by staying up to silly hours trying to find the best verbose sentence to describe some silly song using cut second person voice. Therein lies the maddening beauty of life: the directions to Shangri-la just aren't list-able. Although, if they *were* written, it'd be with harmony between mood and attitude, congruence between feeling and motion.

I find motivation Snuffleupagus elusive. When I do feel its pulse, I'm frightened that it's just masked ambition -- but if it's true, it produces an overwhelming desire to pass along the inspiration to all of those who compose my environment. There's a big recursion here, but it's so cool watching friends hit their high notes or crush their personal bests or simply manifesting their existence, that it reverse inspires me in a way that brings peace to me and my struggle with existence. Unfortunately, I'm such a freakin' stoic that it's difficult for me to express my inspiration in humble but joyful forms. But I'm going to step up to the plate with my few coins (par rum pah-pah pum) and throw out this week's song -- especially the chorus. I find it so infectious and dancivational -- it's just the right amount of kick-in-the-ass force to jumpstart those latent visions. If it's you, you gotta do it.

I believe in this out-of-print CD so much that I'll send anyone a free copy (if you pay shipping, of course).

Comments

How'd you year of Tina and the B Sides? They were my favorite band when I was in college, and I used to catch them live all the time in the great state of MN...

Posted by: Anne @ July 24, 2003 06:29 PM

Via a very very good friend (she taught me a bunch and a whole lot more). University of Minnesota 1990 - 1993 (I abandoned my 7 year plan). I think my friend has soured on them a bit -- but I'm still going strong.

Posted by: TQ @ July 25, 2003 10:36 AM