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LAST YEAR MY FATHER CELEBRATED HIS SEVENTIETH B-DAY. WE HAD A BIG PARTY FOR HIM. MY SIBLINGS AND I PUT TOGETHER A HUGE SCRAPBOOK AND COLLABORATED ON SEVENTY THINGS WE LOVE ABOUT OUR FATHER.

I WROTE A SONG FOR HIM THAT I INTEND TO ONE DAY HAVE COMPOSED. TODAY I WILL POST THE SONG.

HEY, IF YOU ARE A COMPOSER AND WANT TO SET THIS TO MUSIC-LET’S TALK. HAHAHAH

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AN EXTRAORDINARY MAN 

 

Don’t be proud of me

Be proud of what you see

What you see inside yourself

It’s because of who you are

I am who I am

 

I follow your example

You’re an extraordinary man

 

You have always put us first

You were okay with being last

I cherish every moment

Every lesson you have passed

 

Passed on down-as a teacher would do

Blessed we were to be given to you

 

It’s because of who you are that I am who I am

I follow your example, you’re an extraordinary man

 

Listen don’t talk, give don’t take

Appreciate your hard work

And the money you make

 

Life is short-we don’t have much time

Make a difference-Find a way

Let your light shine

 

Treat others with respect

Don’t be taken for a fool

Following another’s path

Won’t make you cool

 

Discover who you are

Then soar high above

 

There is nothing more important than a father’s love

I follow your example you’re an extraordinary man

 

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 This week I am in the mood for some Jack Johnson. I love the vibe his music gives. It takes me to a sunny beach far away.  

My interpretation of this song is… A person falls in love for the first time and finds it hard when the other person does not seem as interested. 

What are your thoughts? 

What are you listening to this Friday? 

Happy Friday! 

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing,Lyrics

Now I was sitting waiting wishing
That you believed in superstitions
Then maybe you’d see the signs
But Lord knows that this world is cruel
And I ain’t the Lord, no I’m just a fool
And in loving somebody don’t make them love youMust I always be waiting waiting on you?
Must I always be playing playing the fool?I sing ya songs I dance a dance
I gave ya friends all a chance
Putting up with them wasn’t worth never having you
And maybe you been through this before
But it’s my first time
So please ignore
The next few lines cause they’re directed at youI can’t always be waiting waiting on you
I can’t always be playing playing your fool
I keep playing your cards
But it’s not my scene
Wont this plot not twist?
I’ve had enough mystery,
Keep building it up, then shooting me down
Well im already down
Just wait a minute
Just sit and wait it
Just wait a minute
Just sit and wait itWell if I was in your position
Id put down all my ammunition
I’d wondered why’d it taken me so long
But Lord knows that I’m not you
And If I was I wouldn’t be so cruel
Cause waiting on love ain’t so easy to doMust I always be waiting waiting on you?
Must I always be playing playing the fool?
No I can’t always be waiting waiting on you
I can’t always be playing playing your fool, foool

Everyone has something that unwinds them. It can be anything from meditation, to doing a crossword puzzle or simply lounging. Writing is how I unwind. Up until tonight, I don’t think I ever paid much attention to the effect it has on my body. Writing is what soothes me. Shortly after I begin tapping away at the keys, I can feel my muscles begin settling back to their appropriate spots.  My mind is meditating and searching for creativity. When the right words are strung together properly a melody is composed. It’s the same thing as a musician hearing the tune he’s been waiting to hear and then singing along. A writer’s words are their music.  When a sentence conveys what we wanted and exactly how we intended our hearts sing a little song. The Writer’s music is loud at times, too many words are begging to be heard and it’s hard to figure out which ones sound the best. So we fine tune our minds and tinker with our perception until we get it right.  Humming the tune of the sentence we know is somewhere to be found.  And when all the chosen words merge together befittingly a writer’s spirit sways to the tune of their rhapsody.  

I have heard the song Loser by Beck repeatedly over the last few days. It’s a catchy tune with a rhythmic beat and it’s repeated lyric was stuck in my head. The lyric that serenaded my thoughts were… I’m a loser baby so why don’t you kill me. It’s a bit morbid but catchy. Today I was excited to see the new Writer’s Digest nestled inside my mailbox. My mood quickly changed when I came to page eighteen. I wasn’t expecting to see the announcement of the Writer Mama’s contest so soon. I didn’t think it was going to be announced until October but then realized The Writer’s Digest I was reading was the October issue. Needless to say I did not win or even place for that matter. I am not bitter and truly offer my sincerest congratulations to the winner Kristin Carlson whose article was perfectly written. I am bummed out simply because rejection is a hard pill to swallow. We send our literary masterpieces (as we would like to think of them) out into the sea of boundless words and hope they will be returned with a gold star. We wait for days, weeks even months holding onto the cliff of our mind called wishful thinking.  When it is confirmed we weren’t even close to the brass ring disappointment rushes through our soul and we question why we tried in the first place. I have chosen to accept rejections as progress. The fact that we are being rejected means we are putting ourselves out there. And that’s better than having a desk full of manuscripts never sent. I have decided I will wait patiently for my gold star. I will take other’s accomplishments and make them my own. Because if someone else can do it so can I. I may have not won the Writer Mama’s Contest but I did have a fun time writing down my moment of when parenting and writing collide. I have decided to share it with you.  Though I was a loser this time around I still feel confident that one day I will be the winner.                                

WHEN PARENTING AND WRITINGCOLLIDE    

  When you are a parent the sound of silence is both soothing and suspicious. I have spent a great deal of time deciphering which one I should take it as. Doing so has caused many interruptions in my writing career. I check on the kids. The boys are in my son’s room playing X-box. My daughter is sleeping beautifully on my TV room’s couch.     Excitement floods through me. I gather my slippers, journal, pen and thoughts. Sink down into my comfy leather chair, turn on a little music and prepare myself to create a piece of literature; I am sure will be a masterpiece. Before my pen could graze the paper I am presented with the first disruption.  Standing before me is my four-year-old nephew. His days are spent at my house while his mother works.                 

 “Aunt Mar,” he says smirking. My stomach twists a bit, Already, I think. “My bud needs you,” he states. By bud he means my son. “What does he need?” I ask. A twinkle of embarrassment illuminates his giant blue eyes.  “For you to wipe him.”  I jump from my chair and trudge upstairs to my one and only bathroom. Hunched in front of the toilet is my blonde curly haired little man bent over. His bare dirty butt is greeting me. I grab some toilet paper and continue doing what we Mothers do. After washing my hands and escorting them back to his room. I race back down the stairs. Hoping my thoughts can still be retrieved. After all I didn’t have time to write them down.  I let out a deep breath and plop back into my chair. It gladdens me that most of my original thoughts are still fresh in my mind. But, this time I will be better prepared for the next hindrance. I grab my pen and journal and furiously jot down my vision of words.     A stampede of heavy footsteps can now be heard above me. I pause and listen. It is obvious the x-box game has been abandoned. Maybe they will go in and watch the movie that is still playing from their last trip downstairs. I am thrilled when I peek in and see them sprawled across the floor intently watching the movie they begged me to buy. At last, I can finally start writing. I scribble down the clever title I came up with. Oh, this is sweet; I visualize myself drafting, escaping, creating, and then… reality hits.  The whaling of my two-year-old daughter is my wake-up call. So, once again I vacate my cushy chair and enter back into the world that inspires the very thing I write about.  

                       

     We arrived early on Saturday night to set up the Bingo tent. It was our church’s bazaar and we were responsible to run Bingo. My daughter’s eyes widened when she saw the microphone. “Is that a real microphone?” she asked. “Yes, but only the Bingo caller is allowed to use it,” I explained. “Please can I sing Hey there Delilah?” (A very popular song that is now all over the air-waves) My sister nodded “Go ahead, there are not too many people here yet.” She grasped onto the microphone and quietly began to sing. Her soulful green eyes stayed fixed on me. I looked into them and found perspective. There she was, my seven-year-old rock star singing a tune to me. The words she sang were someone else’s but the story her eyes told were all her own. It was not a story about some girl named Delilah a thousand miles away. This was the tale of a young girl loving what she was doing and hoped her mother was proud. I saw myself in those eyes. I am a part of her as she is me. I want for her what became absent in me. She is right to believe that life is full of possibilities and if singing is what she loves to do then she will find her stage to perform and an audience to cheer her on. Some where at some point, I grew up, as all children do, and my dreams trailed and reality set in. I recognized the realism of the adult world. We tuck away the fantasies and illusions and accept that our chances were missed. It’s through our children we get another chance. Another chance to experience success and marvel in the thought of what life may bring. The trick is to be aware of the balance. Though we are a part of their life, it is their life. They may make the same bad choices we made. Our stomachs twist at the thought of that. It is possible they will make worse. Our stomachs rise to our throats thinking about that. But what if they make better choices? What if they live their dreams? How wonderful would that be to watch the extensions of us become their fantasy. The thought of that is exciting and makes life interesting all over again. My daughter may change her mind a thousand times before she knows what her true passion is. Or she might be rocking on some stage ten years from now. And when they interview her on some trendy talk show and ask her when it was she knew what she wanted to be, maybe she will say “The day I sang to my mother under some Bingo tent.”  Maybe she saw something in my eyes like I saw in hers. Something that lead her to believe she could be exactly who she dreamt of being.

Even though I aspire to be a list girl some day, the fact is, right now I’m not. There are days I feel ambitious and put together. I actually look for a pen and paper to write a list. Somewhere along the lines of searching I usually find something else, like a random photograph of me from way back when. Within seconds my mind forgets the list and begins analyzing the picture. How old was I? What was my mother thinking when she put those pants on me? Did I really think I looked good making that ridiculous pose? By now the list is forgotten. Actually I don’t recall ever planning to make one until I’m standing inside the grocery market somewhere between aisle eight and aisle ten asking myself what it is that I didn’t want to forget. I carry on a conversation with myself. Okay let’s see, Milk? Check. Bread? Check?  Diapers? Remembered. Who needs a pen and paper when you got a mental list? The nagging voice won’t give up. There is something you forgot, it taunts. Determined to go home with everything I came for I walk up and down  each aisle slowly scanning everything. I assure myself if I am forgetting something it will pop out at me. Nothing pops out so as far as I’m concerned I am good to go.  I am confident I am walking out of the store forgetting nothing. I enjoy the drive home and congratulate myself for not forgetting anything. I carry all of the bags into the kitchen and begin to unpack. As I put each item away I am still sure it’s all here. I start to whistle then hum, whistle then hum and then it happens. I could hear him walking down the stairs. The sound of his footsteps trigger something, I feel my heart drop and I don’t know what I want to do more burst out laughing or start crying. I don’t turn towards him hoping he forgot. Then I hear the words I did not want to hear. “Hey Mar, did you get coffee like I asked?” I start to giggle out of sheer nervousness. Not because he is an ogre and I am afraid of what he will do but because I am embarrassed to tell him I forgot everything he asked me to get. And what makes it even worst is he called me ten minutes before I left work to remind me. I swear to myself that next time I will make a darn list just to avoid looking stupid again. You would think I would have learned by now but unfortunately I have not. This week alone I went to the store on three different occasions and forgot something each time. The items forgotten are usually the ones that I needed the most or at least the ones that would have been the first on my list if I made one.

Thirteen Things about YOUR NAME

For this Thursday Thirteen I have decided to write thirteen songs I have loved throughout my life. Their lyrics and melodies made me play them over and over again.

1…. Your So Vain (Carly Simon- I love her-This song has always been one of my favorites and when my nephew was younger he would ask me to play him “Clouds in my Coffee” and he would believe me when I told him I was the one singing on the radio.)

2….Cassidy(A song by the Grateful Dead- I always loved the lyric- You were born to me Cassidy-which explains why I named my daughter that)

3…Unwritten-Natasha Bedingfield(My anthem)

4…Don’t A change my brown eyes blue-Crystal Gale (When I would ask my father why I couldn’t have blue eyes he would sing this song to me)

5…She’s Like The Wind-Patrick Swayze(One of the first nights I met my husband this song was on-a few nights later he called me-I could hear him fumbling with something – He played this to me over the phone and it became our song

6…Unknown Legend-Neil Young-(I absolutely love this song and it reminds me of myself-it talks about a waitress, and a girl who now is dressing two kids and gets the far-away look in her eyes-So me except I have 3 kids-but I know that far away look and what I’m thinking about when I get it-My youth

7….Here Comes The Sun -Beatles- (This song will always put me in a good mood. It’s like the light at the end of the tunnel type of song.)

8…Bartender-Dave Matthews- I get such a melancholy feeling while listening to this song, I feel for the person who lost the love of their life and goes to a bar to try lessen the blow of losing the one

9…Home Sweet Home-Motley Crue- (My childhood friend absolutely loved Motley Crue, we would spend many nights in his back yard listening to them. He made me learn every word of this song and to this day twenty years later I can sing every word

10…You Light Up My Life-Debbie Boone(The first song I ever wanted to know every word to. My sisters had a record player,I took my notebook and sat next to the player until I wrote every word and then I would sing the song very proudly knowing I knew all of the words

11… This one is going to be three songs in one- I have a song with each of my children and thought I would list them as one. My oldest daughter -Close to You-Carpenters(I would sing this to her when she was a baby and it became our song) Moon River-My son- He has curly hair and is a boy’s boy sort of rugged- There is a lyric in this song that says My Huckleberry Finn which reminds me of him- and I loved when Audrey Hepburn sang it in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. You Are My Sunshine-My baby- Her middle name is Rae and this song would naturally come to me when singing to her

12…Seasons In the Sun-Terry Jacks-(Have always loved this song and as morbid as it may sound I have told people that if I die young I would like this song played at my funeral)

13…Coming Around Again-Carly Simon(Again love her)-I love this song even more now that I am a mother-I loved it prior to being a mother but truly appreciate it now. My favorite part is at the end when the children break into Itsy Bitsy Spider

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

THIS IS HOW THE PINK STYLE LOOKS:

I was really excited to post my song here with the lyrics. I followed protocol and uploaded it but was disappointed to find the site I uploaded it to had inappropriate pictures that I didn’t want to be a part of. So unless someone can direct me to a site where my song can be uploaded minus the promiscuous pictures I won’t be posting it. I am bummed because I think many of you would have liked it. Such is life.Feel free to leave a comment if you know of any info that could be helpful.