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  • annabenedetti
    replied



    Here's a short video, I can't embed it.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/B52l1NkHa71/

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  • annabenedetti
    replied



    I love this..

    Time to close a few tabs, go look for the music, and see how it goes.

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  • annabenedetti
    replied
    I'm bringing a post over from the music thread so I don't mess the music thread up with a bunch of words even though they're related to music.

    I posted my experience last month, then following, I've included a blog post I read just this morning - I'd followed a link from the blogger from a Twitter post about the current political chaos (I'll add that from Jay Rosen elsewhere when I get a chance) and ended up poking around Jim Mitchem's blog a bit. His experience is way better than mine. My best has to be hearing "silver and gold" while writing "silver and gold," not expecting either.

    First:
    Originally posted by annabenedetti View Post
    Flying home yesterday I settled in as the plane was boarding, put my phone on airplane mode and started a random playlist I'd imaginatively named drive () for when I'm driving, naturally... The music was mentally just kind of in the background as we taxied out to the runway and queued up for takeoff, but as we accelerated down the runway I became aware of the song that was playing. We were 47 seconds into Learning to Fly. This synchronicity happens so often to me, it's the strangest feeling but I just love it when it happens. So of course I took a screenshot to remember the moment:

    [ATTACH=CONFIG]26808[/ATTACH]

    Learning to Fly - Pink Floyd

    From a writer named Jim Mitchem, who writes a blog called Obsessed with Conformity:

    During my morning shower, I sometimes put on Apple Radio’s Classic Rock station instead of what I normally listen to. Granted, I can barely hear the music when I’m in there, but it’s good company and it keeps me from thinking about bad men walking in and shooting me during this vulnerable state. Plus, I know all the songs.

    So this morning More Than a Feeling was playing as I got into the shower. When it finished it switched to something with a live audience. I couldn’t tell which song it was, so I assumed it was I Want You to Want Me by Cheap Trick–which was recorded live in Japan back in the day, and has an iconic opening with a teeny-bop crowd roaring as Robin Zander slowly sings the song’s opening line.

    Anyway, I couldn’t really tell for sure, so I went with it as Cheap Trick as I shaved my head singing the song’s catchy lyrics. A couple minutes later, when I turned off the water, I realized that it wasn’t Cheap Trick—but the Allman Brothers, Statesboro Blues live at the Fillmore.

    (I’m getting old and hearing is the second thing, after vision, to go.)

    Oh well. I started drying off as that song ended and another began.

    That’s when a roaring crowd poured out of my phone’s tiny speaker and Robin Zander slowly sang, “I want you … to want … me.”

    I stood there. Naked. But for the goosebumps.

    Apple Music boasts a 50 million song catalog.

    I want you to want me.

    A timely message. As I’ve been straying, lately.

    ***
    Jim

    I got his goosebumps.

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  • annabenedetti
    replied
    Originally posted by Town Heretic View Post
    People worry about me all the time...though to be fair, they're legally required to.


    And with that it's time for a thought on topic.

    Happy is life's way of saying you're doing it right.
    Unhappy is life's way of saying not to let it go to your head.
    I'm afraid of the next line that will explain life's way of saying I'm doing it wrong... or maybe the line after that about when I did it wrong but I did it anyway and have no regrets.

    I have a book by Brené Brown (Ph.D., L.M.S.W., gifted speaker and author) called The Gifts of Imperfection and I go back to it time and time again. Her own 2007 "breakdown" she renamed her 2007 'spiritual awakening,' but she thinks it was both, wondering whether she could have one without the other. Anyway, she says this:

    People may call what happens at midlife "a crisis," but it's not. It's an unraveling--a time when you feel a desperate pull to live the life you want to live not the one you're "supposed" to live. The unraveling is a time where you are challenged by the universe to let go of who you think you are supposed to be and embrace who you are.

    It's not just midlife of course, other life-altering events can precipitate an unraveling too, and she gives a list of them and I could tick off more than a few. I didn't read her book until after, but it helped a lot, in part because she's spent much of her career talking about shame - she says that "we live in a world where most people still subscribe to the belief that shame is a good tool for keeping people in line."

    Among many other things she's also done some TED talks. I posted a video of hers on empathy a few years ago, and it's always worth another view:

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  • Town Heretic
    replied
    Originally posted by annabenedetti View Post
    It was pretty dramatic at the time, but worth every minute of it for the life experiences, so thank you ever so much for your (extraordinarily sincere) concern but it's not needed.
    People worry about me all the time...though to be fair, they're legally required to.

    And with that it's time for a thought on topic.

    Happy is life's way of saying you're doing it right.
    Unhappy is life's way of saying not to let it go to your head.

    Leave a comment:


  • annabenedetti
    replied
    Look at the time stamps.

    Originally posted by ok doser View Post
    anna, you used to be one of the best at this back in the day - what on earth has happened to you?
    Originally posted by ok doser View Post
    Again - what on earth happened to you?
    Originally posted by ok doser View Post
    What on earth happened to you Anna?
    It was pretty dramatic at the time, but worth every minute of it for the life experiences, so thank you ever so much for your (extraordinarily sincere) concern but it's not needed.

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  • ok doser
    replied
    Originally posted by annabenedetti View Post
    ... I was more hopeful once, more trusting, but the experiences of recent years have shaped me into something different. My gestalt was shattered and couldn't be fixed, I was left to forge a new one that cannot be the same....




    Originally posted by annabenedetti View Post

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  • The Barbarian
    replied
    Originally posted by fzappa13 View Post
    I always had this idea that you should combine rest homes with day care. I mean, ideally there would be neither but, reality is there are both and I think part of what has gone lacking as of late in our culture is the interaction between grandparents and grandchildren.
    It is true that children and the very old are often treated the same way by younger adults, who often trivialize what they say and do. I find my granddaughter to be great company, even if she doesn't know everything.

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  • annabenedetti
    replied
    Originally posted by Town Heretic View Post
    I suspect that it's a bit like a variation on the old story. We each live with two dogs inside us. The first is hope and the other despair. If we feed the first he'll guard us and all we love. If we feed the latter he'll gnaw on our bones while we're breathing.

    Setting aside experience and the belief that followed it, I'd like to think that I'd have chosen to feed the first dog anyway, but I'm not sure if it's true. I suspect we're as much one as the other and it really does come down to the choice we make. The former me would probably say my rationalism was corrupted by hope. The newer me will never stop laughing at that.

    Many happier returns of the day, friend-o-mine.
    Thanks, TH.

    We're as much environment as genetics but it's not like a 50-50 hard split, the two are so intertwined and symbiotic that you can't break the whole into two equal parts. I was more hopeful once, more trusting, but the experiences of recent years have shaped me into something different. My gestalt was shattered and couldn't be fixed, I was left to forge a new one that cannot be the same. I have a freedom now to question all the old paradigms, the stories I was told and that I believed. Religiously. Politically. Culturally. Morally.
    Last edited by annabenedetti; July 2nd, 2019, 03:49 PM.

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  • Town Heretic
    replied
    Originally posted by annabenedetti View Post
    And I wonder again whether all religion is a human construct to reassure us life doesn't end after we die because if death really was the final end, so much would seem so pointless.
    I suspect that it's a bit like a variation on the old story. We each live with two dogs inside us. The first is hope and the other despair. If we feed the first he'll guard us and all we love. If we feed the latter he'll gnaw on our bones while we're breathing.

    Setting aside experience and the belief that followed it, I'd like to think that I'd have chosen to feed the first dog anyway, but I'm not sure if it's true. I suspect we're as much one as the other and it really does come down to the choice we make. The former me would probably say my rationalism was corrupted by hope. The newer me will never stop laughing at that.

    Many happier returns of the day, friend-o-mine.

    Leave a comment:


  • annabenedetti
    replied
    In the early hours this morning, I dreamed about a woman I loved as my own mother, and whose death four years ago came as a great blow. In the dream I was listening to her talking to me on the phone, and even though the line was staticky I could hear her voice in the middle of a cheery conversation and I didn't want her to stop talking, I just wanted to listen to her forever, but then her voice faded and it was gone, and my dream ended with me doubled up on the floor crying, grieving her all over again.

    And I wonder again whether all religion is a human construct to reassure us life doesn't end after we die because if death really was the final end, so much would seem so pointless.

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  • annabenedetti
    replied
    Last year, in the same month he turned 50, Jeff Tweedy lost his father to lung cancer.

    Loss has a way of shifting one’s mind to the past. The Wilco frontman was already buried in reminiscence. He was in the middle of writing a memoir, recounting his life story: his punk awakening in a depressed Illinois town known as the Stove Capital of the World, his formative years slumming it in the influential alt-country group Uncle Tupelo, his struggles with anxiety and drug addiction, and, of course, his war stories as the leader of Wilco, the Chicago band that has come to be uniquely beloved by fans of raggedy, progressive-minded indie-rock.

    And then his father, a railroad employee of nearly five decades, died, with son and daughter and grandchildren singing “I Shall Be Released” by his bedside. When Tweedy recalls that day, his voice grows faint. “My dad’s girlfriend, Melba, was holding his hand and telling him to go ahead because Jo Ann—that’s my mom—is waiting for him. I don’t believe in that. But I’m sitting there, holding his hand. It’s hard not to be impressed by the poignancy of that deep wish.”
    . . . .
    Warm
    might seem like a puzzling title for a solo record. But it would be a mistake to place it in the what-a-lazy-title category. It originates with the album’s most affecting song, “Warm (When the Sun Has Died),” which centers around Tweedy’s reflections on the afterlife. “Oh, I don’t believe in heaven / I keep some heat inside,” Tweedy sings over a mournful pedal steel refrain. “Like a red brick in the summer / Warm when the sun has died.”

    That warmth is a mysterious, benevolent thing. Not religion, exactly, says Tweedy, because he’s not religious. (His wife is Jewish, and the book mentions a conversion ceremony—involving, yes, a circumcision—around the time of his younger son’s bar mitzvah.) But he does find a sense of belief difficult to shake. Like that hopeful vision of his late father, reuniting with his mom. “As much as I don’t believe in God, I don’t believe in atheists either,” says Tweedy. “I know that inside, the part of me I can’t be dishonest about, is the side that would like very much to believe in something.” For it not to exist, “I would have to actively try to kill that childlike side of myself.

    “I might sound cool and tough if I told you I just don’t believe in God—you die and, whatever, it’s done,” he adds. “Probably true. But that doesn’t stop me from having that thing. Whatever that thing is.”




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  • annabenedetti
    replied




    I hope the journals get published or exhibited. What a treasure, and what a gift.

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  • annabenedetti
    replied
    Originally posted by chrysostom View Post
    It was a joke
    Trust me
    Don't look past the joke
    Don't be a martyr
    unless it is really possible
    Last time we talked about trust, it didn't go so well... but sure, I can trust that it was a joke.

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  • chrysostom
    replied
    Originally posted by annabenedetti View Post
    I don't know how he meant that, if he was serious or joking, but it depends on what kind of martyr you're talking about. I remember a cartoon where the woman tells the man something to the effect of 'stop martyring while I'm martyring' and it was funny because martyring in relationships - as a trait - can be a benignly human shortcoming (what the cartoon was illustrating), but as a pathology it would be something much darker.
    It was a joke
    Trust me
    Don't look past the joke
    Don't be a martyr
    unless it is really possible

    Leave a comment:

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