My Music Taste...

Is eclectic like everybody's.

However, if I'm honest, I love music that is emotional. Sometimes a little angry, sometimes a little sad, and definitely wordy. Good lyrics will get me every time.

Anyways, sometimes I forget that not everyone likes to feel angst y as a result of listening to music. Precisely and I have very different tastes in music and he would tease me regularly.

Last winter I was getting ready for a date, and Precisely wandered by my room.

"oh my god," he said, "what are you listening to?"

"What?" I said, paused mid-eyeliner application. I don't remember what was playing, but apparently primping to whatever it was, was not appropriate in Chris's opinion.

"Kelsey! Don't listen to that!"

"What? Why not?!"

"You're getting ready for a date! You need something to put you in a good mood, not something depressing."

"But I am in a good mood!"

"Someone is taking you out! You should be listening to something energetic, that makes you happy, and feel sexy. Not the black-hole that is your music collection."

He came in and put on something he deemed a more appropriate soundtrack.

This week, half of the Thread team has been in Haiti. Meaning I've had the office largely to myself, as Lee likes to work from coffee shops in the morning.

It's still September, and it's been a rainy dreary week, and I've been knee deep in writing, and so have been listening to a lot of sad music.  The way I see it, sad music is kind of like a double negative, and by listening and wallowing in it, I actually feel strangely comforted and happy. If I want to wallow in the artificial sadness Mazzy Star and Firghtened Rabbit provide, I will. Sorry I'm not sorry.

Anyways, On Tuesday, Lee called me out for playing depressing music. And then today, he came in in the afternoon, while I was knee deep in newsletter editing accompanied by...you guessed it - sad music!

"Turn off the sad music, "Lee joked as he walked in.

"But, I'm having such a lovely time," I argued.

"mehhhhhhhhhhhh," was Lee's response.

I looked at my itunes, and stifled a laugh. "But, this song is called 'Not Miserable'!"

"Did you do that on purpose?" Lee asked.

"No!" I laughed, "I can't make this stuff up."

All my other sad or angry or angst y music junkies out there, you know what I'm talking about. 

Part of a Well-Balanced Life

First of all, I'll begin with saying that I am fine.

Better than fine even, good, maybe great.

I'm emphasizing this because my Mom called me last week to make sure I was fine, as Moms are want to do, and even though I was fine, I was also in the midst of September sadness, and I'm sure she intuited that because she has a way of knowing everything, even from 400 miles away, which is a trait I hope I inherit when I become a parent, so that I can freak my kids out as much as she does me. (Anyway Mom, if you read this know that I'm good - love you!)

So, let's talk for a minute about September sadness. I'm not sure what it is - whether it's the change in daylight hours, the drop in temperature, the change in schedules that came with going back to school, but I get sad in September.  This has been happening since high school. It's only in the past couple of years that I've really been able to recognize the pattern (better late than never).  It doesn't last too long, just a couple of weeks in the middle of the month, and it's not in any way debilitating, just makes me more apt to think my way into downward-hate-spirals, and cry more often for no good reason.  I also know that I am not alone in this, and have been reading about other people coping with September, and its comforting to know that there is company in your craziness.

It's already lifting, and now that the equinox has happened I am ready to embrace fall with all the pumpkin spiced lattes and beer and baked goods and boots and capes and glorious long runs, and extra blankets on my bed. October is here next week.

I was having coffee with a friend last week, and mentioned this, and we started talking about feelings, and downward-hate-spirals, and the crazy thought processes that takes you from a well-adjusted logical person, to one who is convinced you've messed up your entire life in under 60 seconds.

"The thing I dislike about sadness," I said, "Is that I can't channel it into anything productive."

She smiled and said, "Unless you consider a well-balanced life, and allowing yourself time to process and be reflective productive.  Those aren't bad things. Careful, your high D is showing."

(If you are familiar with the DiSC personality profile, then you know that she was right. I am, it was.)

And so she made an excellent point.  And maybe it's time that I stop viewing September as the month when I get sad, and embrace it for the month that I get introspective and reflective, and process.  Because having that time is part of a well-balanced life.

A Good Reminder

Going for a run, is always better than not going for a run.

You would think after nearly a decade I would know this.  The problem is that knowing sometimes isn't enough. Knowing I should run is not as powerful as wanting to go straight home to eat cheese and then take a nap.

What I think is important at this stage in training, is recognizing when my knowing might not be enough, and so to reach out for help and external motivation.

Running can be a solitary sport, and I love it for the time alone it gives me, and the space to process my own thoughts. At the same time, I'm real grateful to be able to text a friend asking for motivation, and be encouraged to do what I know I should do.

Also, cheese tastes better after a run.

I need to sleep, why won't I let me?

I love sleeping, for a lot of reasons, not least of which because dreaming is highly entertaining and usually something that I enjoy.

This past week though, my subconscious has been super overactive, and I've been having vivid, intense, recurring dreams about stressful things like murderers and weddings and have been waking up in a panic sometime in the morning while its still dark out, where I then lay in bed in a stage of semi-consciousness until my alarm goes off and I have to get up for, you know, the day.

It's Thursday now, and I am exhausted.

I don't know what's behind the dreaming. I've been running about the same, which is to say, A LOT, which usually causes me to sleep like a big rock.  I try not to use my computer right before I go to sleep. I haven't been eating anything weird.

I have been reading a murder-mystery novel. This could explain the murderer dream. Hopefully I will finish it tonight, and it will provide my brain some kind of closure, and I can go back to sleeping through the night.

I mentioned this to my coworkers today, and Jenna immediately responds with, "Yea,  I know the feeling. That's what having a small child who won't sleep through the night feels like."

Except, I don't have a small child! In fact, I am in the single/childless stage of my life that should be met with as much sleep as I selfishly want while I can still get it.

Here's hoping for a less active REM cycle tonight.

Inspiring Words

“The true joy of life is being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one . . . being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown to the scrap heap . . . being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish clod of ailments and grievances.” — George Bernard Shaw

How Many Hallings Does it Take to Open a Trunk?

My sister is back in Pittsburgh.

Which is to say, my sister is back in Pittsburgh!!!!!

And I am super excited to have her here.  She came out with my parents yesterday for her final year of school, and moved into a house with some guys named Hank and Frank. (No, I am not kidding.)

Anyway, today we drove out to Ikea to pick up a mattress for her, so that she wouldn't spend the next 9 months sleeping on a futon cushion on the floor. Oh college...

And when I say we drove, I really mean that I drove, thanks to a zipcar reservation.  I have been a member of zipcar for a couple of years now, and I love it.  It wouldn't be practical if I needed to drive somewhere everyday, but for the city dweller I am who absolutely needs a car only once or twice a month, it is the perfect solution. If you live in a city, and don't want to buy a car, sign up for zipcar, its great. (Disclaimer: Zipcar has never paid me. Though if they wanted to give me some driving credits for talking nice about them I wouldn't say no...)

The thing about never owning your own car is that being a good driver is one thing, but actually being good with the logistics of cars is quite another.  I wouldn't say I am an extraordinary driver, but I've never been in an accident and I can drive a manual transmission, so I'd say that's at least above average in America.  When it comes to cars though.  I am so clueless.  To the point that it's kind of embarrassing.

For instance:

- I got my license in 2004.  It wasn't until 2010 that I ever pumped my own gas. I still hate pumping my own gas. I find the experience completely overwhelming every time.

- It was June, of this year in 2012 that I learned how to put air in a tire. On a date no less. (Apparently, my vehicular incompetence wasn't a deal breaker.)

- I parallel parked to pass my drivers test, and I've never done it since. Never.


Between my ineptitude at tasks we consider teenagers adept enough to handle, and the fact that when you rent a zipcar you find yourself in a new model of car you are unfamiliar with - hilarity and frustration often ensue when I need to do things, like, say, open the trunk.

We're back at Ikea now - remember how this story started about a trip to the happiest place on earth?  I've pulled up to the front so that we can load my sisters newly acquired mattress, expedit bookshelf, and houseplant. (oh college...)

"Can you pop the trunk she asks?"

"Sure," I said.

Except I couldn't.

I looked down next to the drivers door where the trunk lever usually is, but there was only a lever for the gas.

I hit the unlock button, but the trunk still wouldn't open.

I pulled another lever, and heard a pop, and thought "success!" Until I realized I had actually popped the hood and not the trunk.

Finally, I crawled in the back, to grab the emergency-if-you-are-kidnapped-you-can-get-yourself-out-of-the-trunk handle. You know, the one that glows in the dark?  Except that there wasn't one.

Finally, I grabbed the manual out of the dashboard, desperate at this point. Meanwhile, my sister, who is generally better than I am when it comes to cars, is laughing at me, but also can't figure out how to open the trunk.

For the record, we are two college educated women, who can run far,  move furniture themselves, navigate public transportation all over the world, and even speak other languages. But we can't open the goddamn trunk. I felt like a failure to feminists everywhere.

We eventually got the stuff in, by just shoving it through the open back doors, into the trunk.  I mean, we found a solution. All's well that ends well, right?

Though, for the record, I will NEVER buy a Mazda 3 Hatch.

The Fear That it Might End

I read a blurb of a book review on two novels about love written by a French philosopher and a scientist, in the back of an old copy of The Economist of all places.  I don't remember the name of the philosopher, or the scientist, or the books, but I do remember reading something interesting in the review.

One of the authors wrote that part of the great thing about love, is the fear that it could end. That to acknowledge the risk and the vulnerability that comes along with falling in love is crucial to the experience being as wonderful as it is.

I thought that this was a refreshingly positive way to look at fear. In love, sure, but also in almost every other aspect of life.

The fear that it might end is most certainly present in romantic relationships, but it can extend to friendships, and family, and colleagues. No relationship is certain. But the fear of it ending is motivation to keep working at them. To call, and write, and make plans, and time, and have hard conversations, and forgive and forget, and to grow close to people.

The fear that it might end is the reason we show up for work everyday at Thread.  That the opportunity to do something we love and believe in could end, makes us fight and work to make sure we can keep doing it.

The fear that my health, both mental and physical might end is what keeps me running. It keeps me motivated to sign up for races and train for months to finish marathons, and take care of myself.

I think that embracing the fear of the end could be really powerful.

Eventually, it will all end. And if that's not motivation to give something back to the world, and enjoy yourself while doing it, I don't know what is.