Monday’s Theme Music

Going into week three of isolation, I start thinking about changing things up.

My wife’s Y-exercise group have done some adjusting. Using Zoom, they’ve now reverted to their Monday-Wednesday-Friday exercise routine, although one hour later than usual. My beer group is considering the same thing. Having a beer with others, via Zoom, and having a chat about the news, checking up on one another, might be the change I need.

Overall, I am slooowly adjusting. I miss my long walks and solitude, and my coffee/writing routine. My wife noticed, “I don’t think I’ve seen you writing.”

“Well, I tried but there were too many interruptions. Cats…you…my brain, the net, the coronavirus.” She made arrangements to give me some ‘me’ time for a few hours in the office. That enabled some writing.

Other than that, it’s been reading, cleaning, and playing ‘puter games. Too much of the reading has been drawn toward coronavirus news. I’ve made it a habit (or a compulsion) to check on different states and countries, along with the overall sit, several damn times a day.

So, a change would do me good. That thought introduced the Sheryl Crow song, “A Change Would Do You Good” (1997).

I’ve been thinking ’bout catching a train
Leave my phone machine by the radar range
Hello it’s me, I’m not at home
If you’d like to reach me, leave me alone

A change would do you good
A change would do you good
Hello, it’s me, I’m not at home
If you’d like to reach me, leave me alone

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Seems like everybody’s waiting
For a new change to come around.

[Background:]
Come around, come around, come around.

[Lead Vocal:]
Waiting for the day when the
King, Queen of soul sing around

[Background:]
Sing around, sing around, sing around, sing around.

[Lead Vocal:]
You can understand everything’s to share.
Let your spirit dance brothers everywhere.
Let your head be free, turn the wisdom key
Find it naturally – see you’re lucky to be.
Dig this sound it’s been round and round and round.

You get out your cold feet ba-by
Something on your back lay it down.

[Background:]
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down.

[Lead Vocal:]
Don’t you know honey maybe your light might shine this whole town

[Background:]
This whole town, this whole town, this whole town, sing around.

[Lead Vocal:]
Time for you to all get down
Yeah do it

h/t to AZLyrics.com

The song is Santana with “Everybody’s Everything” (1971). Thought it fit well for these times. BTW, that’s a Neal Schon guitar solo, not Carlos.

Get ready.

Sunday’s Theme Music

I’ve done this song before, but it’s a throwback, optimistic song. “A Change Is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke was inspired by his life experiences. He released it in 1964.

It’s a good, reflective song about trying and being. The chorus is the best part (from Genius.com):

It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Oh, yes it will

Change has come today, the same changes as every day, every year: the weather, the shadows, the temperature, the month, the date. We’re looking for more permanent changes in other ways, to the way that people act and treat one another. We need changes to the erroneous supposition that same deserve less freedom, less equality, less opportunity, because of their skin, their religion, their sexual orientation or gender, or their heritage.

This is a cover by Brian Owens with his father. I enjoyed it, and thought that you might enjoy it, too.

Monday’s Theme Music

You’d think that today’s song, with a cat in the title, was inspired by an interaction with a cat. Nope; didn’t happen that way.

“Honky Cat” by Elton John (1972) came to me because of the line, “Change is gonna do me good.” I was asked to help another. Helping them would force a change to my comfortable, protected routines. But I wanted to help, hence, I told myself, “Change is gonna do me good.”

Turned out, my help wasn’t needed, etc. By then, though, “Honky Cat” was roaring in the stream. Not that I mind that. Its jaunty sound fit my mood.

Now I’m gonna go look for gold in a silver mine, then drink a little whiskey from a bottle of wine. Always enjoyed those lines.

Coffee House Rules

My home office is a comfortable place. Got a big desk, chair, books, all that stuff, with easy access to the kitchen and coffee.

You’d think it’d be ideal for writing. Cats, spouse, neighbors, and generalities seem to conspire against it working. If I had to name one as the greatest offense, the cats would take the spot. They’re like, “Hey, I hear him typing. I better go put a stop to that by getting on his lap or the keyboard.” (This is called an interflooftion.) Just doesn’t work for me.

So I like coffee houses for my writing endeavors. I abandoned my previous favorite (management changes, and they treated former employees (who are family) like garbage, so I’m gone). The search was on, causing me to remind myself what I was looking for. Also, people ask me, “What are you looking for in a coffee shop for your writing?” or “Why do you go there?”

So — no order, really, but numbered for convenience.

  1. Tables with chairs and access to outlets.
  2. Good coffee.
  3. Some space.
  4. Decent prices.
  5. Location – must be in Ashland, OR.
  6. General ambiance.

A nice staff also helps but I must say, in fourteen years of frequenting Ashland’s coffee houses, I’ve not encountered a nice (code for friendly and engaging) staff.

These are subjective things. (Right? Most things are.)  I settled on Noble’s after trying a few places. Noble’s has all of the above (plus excellent scones and muffins (although I try not to indulge, right?) except their coffee costs one dollar more. After deciding on the place, though, I then had to pay attention to its ebb and flow, cause, you know, those tables, chairs, outlets, and space aren’t unlimited.

As with most places, you either must arrive early (typically before 8:30) to beat the morning rush. The next break generally arrives at ten. With Noble’s, I found the best time to arrive for my writing is 11:30 AM. The place empties. Most tables (with outlets) are available, so I have a choice of places. There’s then a forty-minute lull before they experience a lunch rush. I can settle in and write for a few hours. It’s great.

The start time pushes back my time, so I need to adjust either ends. Of course, this is winter; things will be different in other times of the year.

It probably won’t surprise you, but I ran into friends everywhere I went in to have coffee and write. (“Oh, you’re writing here now?”)

Alright now. Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

The Waves Dream

Dreams last night were like energetic kittens wrestling and playing: lot of action and motion, and not too linear. 

But one sequence’s sharp focus overpowered memories of the rest. I’d gone upstairs in a house to shave. We lived by the ocean on a bluff. Wanting to look out at the day (and the sea), I raised a white blind. When I did, I saw a huge blue wave breaking. The wave was the windows height, and splashed against the glass. Startled by its height, I lowered the blind and left the room.

Rushing downstairs, I told my wife about the huge wave. It impressed because our house was set back from the bluff’s edge by over twenty feet. For the wave to travel across that distance and still break on the second story window was amazing.

I ran back up the stairs to the bathroom. Raising the blind again gave me time to see another enormous bright blue wave racing toward me. Taller than the last, I realized it was going to break over the house.

Before I could close the sash, the wave broke. The house shuddered with the impact. I expected the window to break, but it didn’t. Halfway through shaving, I went to check on the property. Everything seemed fine, except my car, a 1968 Chevrolet Camaro, was gone. The wave took it, I thought. Other than those enormous waves, it wasn’t storming, but calm.

That dream sequence ended.

‘Nother Military Dream

Yes, it was another military dream. This one was all about flight-following, on the surface, but I found it was about change.

Flight-following is a low-level task in Air Force command posts that often consumes a lot of time. Flight information — mission number, type of aircraft and configuration, tail number, kind of mission, scheduled times and durations, aircraft commander’s name, etc. — are posted in logs and folders, along with getting written on big boards. The info necessary to coordinate and track safe and successful missions are called in via radios and telephones from multiple ground agencies and the aircraft. It was done on paper on in grease pencils on plastic boards when I was in the military, but as small computers were coming out, I saw them as ideal for coordinating all of this via electronics. Naturally, as I progressed in rank and responsibilities, I did less and less flight-following.

Anyway, we weren’t flight-following anything in this command post when the officer in charge announced that it was decided that we should. As the dream progressed, I was trying to explain to her that it’s not as simple as just making an announcement. She insisted that we were only going to do certain missions.

I spent the dream talking with others about it. Old, unused flight-following boards were revealed on the walls, so once upon a time, flight-following was done there. Meanwhile, several young lieutenants came in to agree with me, telling others that they thought that this was a mistake, surprising me with their insights.

Not a weird dream at all, a very affirming dream, it was all about change, of expecting something to come around again. The dream didn’t much surprise me; I feel like there’s been an energy shift, and then decided that I’m opening myself up to change, and I’m expecting change. It reminded me that change is part of cycles. That sums up my personal philosophy: change is part of cycles, and it resides on a circular spectrum, and it’s always moving. Sometimes it goes retrograde, but it’s always moving.

I think the dream was just telling me, yep, changes are coming. We’re sliding along the spectrum one more time, going back to something to go forward.

Grappling with Dreams

My recent series of dreams have involved structures and family. Two that stand out were about my father and my in-laws.

The dream about my father had bronze red overtones to everything. We were underground, in a cave. Alive (as he is), he was selecting his coffin and burial site. His burial site was a strange building. It had been some sort of business. I was asking him, “This is where you want to be buried?” It seemed so bizarre to me.

Dad barely took notice of my question. He was busy organizing his burial process and closing the deal for the building. Passing out leaflets (which were red), he told me, “You’re one of the pallbearers but you won’t be carrying me.”

I said, “Where is this place?” Someone pointed out a map on wall. I went over to the map and studied it, determining that it was on the California-Nevada border. Knowing where it was, I stepped outside to see it. I discovered I was standing on top of a hill. Below was a huge quarry operation. Shaped in a circle or oval, it was miles wide.

“This is a mine,” I said, looking for Dad. “Why would you want to be buried in a mine?”

The dream ended.

The next night, I dreamed that I was visiting with my sister-in-law and her husband. Other relatives from my wife’s side were present, as was my wife. My mother- and father-in-law have both passed away, and we were at their old home. Only this home was nothing like their home.

Everyone was turning to me and saying, “What should we do with this?” The house was like an faintly familiar maze of rooms and additions. I told everyone, “We need to determine what we have.” Everyone agreed to that, but asked, “How?”

I said, “Well, first, we’ll need to explore.”

Officials came up to us to talk about the house and our plans. I told them of my plan, and they approved. They then said that I should contact a specific person. While he was a teammate, we’d never been close and he was a year behind me. “He’ll certify the findings for you,” the officials said.

I agreed to do that. Then I began leading the family around the dwelling. I said, “I’m going to turn on light switches. Everyone watch to see what lights up. We need to open every door and find every switch.” All agreed.

I did as planned. Whenever I opened a door, I’d find the switch and turn on the lights. Surprising reveals followed. Old rooms and additions that we didn’t know about were revealed. Some were old offices, with filing cabinets and seats. Although old, they showed signs of recent use. Scenes like this, of different rooms that we didn’t know about, happened again and again.

Finished, we went outside. My sister-in-law’s husband came up to me. He said, “Now you know what we faced. Not so easy, is it?” He was laughing, and agreeing, I laughed, too.

Studying the house, I said, “I never knew that it looked like this.” It was a sprawling, eclectic design of multiple levels. Many were new and some were old. As I looked at it, I said, “I know what to do.”

The dream ended.

I’ve dreamed about these in-laws a few times in the past two weeks. In other dreams, I was driving them. I’ve dreamed about my wife’s parents’ home numerous times in the past few years, but the dream and home were always different. The commonality is always that the house surprises me, I’m exploring it, and everyone is looking at me to decide what to do.

 

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