As of late I’ve come across some great material that got me thinking about why I write in the first place. The article above from The Collaborative Writer gets it exactly right. I admit it: I am my own worst enemy. I tend to over-think everything and spend too much time planning what I’d like to do when I really should be writing. I. Just. Need. To. Write. Why is that so difficult in practice?
The thing is that I truly believe everyone has a story. No one has a perfect life. Everyone is struggling with something and conflict is the heart of any great story. Not only does that simple premise – everyone has a story – get to the heart of why I write, it is also the reason why I love to read. I am drawn to biographies and autobiographies or any good plot driven by realistic conflicts dealt with by well-rounded characters.
Again, I keep going back to asking myself why it has to be so hard. I love to create. I know what I like to write. I always feel more myself when I write. Why don’t I write more? I think we all need to ditch the excuses.
The video included below I came across as part of training for my position as a clerk. I love the message of the video. It is all too easy to forget that everyone is struggling with something.
While I normally don’t share a lot of personal pictures here, I just had to share this one. The golden retriever is my brother’s dog Sunny, who happens to be one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever known. In fact, I’m not sure whose dog she actually is. While originally she was supposed to be my brother’s dog, he was 14 when she came into our lives. My parents quickly laid claim to her too. She follows my Mom everywhere. When my brother went off to college, Sunny stayed home.
I spent the last week sitting Sunny while my parents took a trip to the Caribbean. I miss her already. Again, I just adore this picture, which includes two of my favorites: my little brother G and Miss Sunny. I meant to take a picture of her on one of our walks in the woods behind my Grandma’s house, but forgot my camera.
A week ago yesterday, I picked up my new car, a 2013 red Chevy Malibu. Sad to say, it just seems like an end of an era in my life. In the 16 years I’ve had my driver’s license, I’ve owned and driven two Pontiacs – a 1989 red Grand Prix and a silver 2002 Grand Prix. That’s it. I tend to hang on to cars. I don’t think I exaggerate when I say that I believe my 1989 Grand Prix saved my life.
July 24, 2002 I was in a bad car accident in Austin, Texas. I was driving on highway 290 on my way to work at Applied Materials. I was almost to work when a big white moving truck made a left-hand turn in front of me; I had the green light and was traveling 55 MPH. The other driver did not see me. I slammed on the brakes so hard I broke my big toe and fractured the metatarsal. I was lucky. Most of the front end of my car ended up under the side of the truck. I hate to think of the possible fate of any front-seat passenger I may have had. Fortunately the only other injuries I had from the crash was a bad cut behind my ear from the molding on my driver’s side door and a small cut on my knee. Despite not having airbags, I did not get bombarded with glass from the windshield. Fortunately the safety glass held. At 5 ft. 0, airbags might have made things worse prior to smart airbag technology.
Ironically I originally planned to sell that car after the end of my co-op with Applied Materials. Instead I found myself car shopping for a new Grand Prix in Austin, Texas with my Mom. There are so many memories of that 1989 Grand Prix though, I was very sad to see it go, despite its quirks. My parents purchased the red 1989 Grand Prix new in 1989; I was 8 – and excited for a new family car. Prior to that car, my Mom drove full-size vans that doubled as canoe livery vehicles throughout the summer. Suffice to say my Mom was very happy to have a car again! I was just as excited to go car shopping with my parents. It was a 2-door, red, and sexy for its time. Of course it was love at first sight.
One snowy Christmas Eve a year or so after my parents purchased the car, my parents, my sister, and I found ourselves helping a young woman who ended up in the ditch. As we drove home from festivities at my grandparents’ home in Standish, we were nearly home when my parents saw a set of headlights in the ditch. My Dad backed up the car and helped the driver, a young woman on her way to her parents’ home for Christmas. My Mom, in her gorgeous fox coat, which my Dad had trapped for her, climbed into the backseat with me and my sister. As the driver wasn’t badly hurt and didn’t want medical attention, we drove her to her parents’ home. It is one of my favorite childhood memories. When you are just newly 9 years-old, I suppose it passes for adventure.
I think the intention always was to hang onto that car until I was old enough to drive. In the 1995 model year, Pontiac came out with an entirely redesigned Grand Prix, the wide track. At the time my parents were friends with a couple who owned the local GM dealership. Mr. W knew what he was doing and drove one of the new Grand Prixes over to my parents’ house. All of us fell in love with that car. Hook, line, sinker. My Mom ended up with the car and the 1989 Grand Prix was put in the pole barn until I could drive. At the time, there weren’t many 1995 Grand Prixes on the road yet, and my Mom got plenty of looks in her new car (of course it was red too). At 14, I have to admit I was envious.
Now I had a car of my own! I had nearly a year to play around with what would become my car, drive it in the campground, and set it up exactly as I wanted it. I couldn’t wait to drive, even if it meant driving my little sister everywhere too. A few months after I got my license, I ended up in my first fender-bender in that car one icy February morning on my way to school. It was the first car crash my sister and I had ever been in. We both just absolutely burst into tears – and then drove on to school and called Mom.
In many ways, it was E’s car too. It seemed as though each school day my sister and I would fight over control of the radio and tape deck. There were certain single tapes I had in the car that she insisted on playing over and over again; it drove me crazy. I hate to admit this, but I used to make E pump my gas. It was a while before I did it myself. On cold winter nights, I picked her up from 4-H ski club, along with her skis, which we would have to put through the trunk into the backseat. She even drove my car throughout my freshman year at Michigan State and had her 5 CD changer installed in the trunk. Eventually, though, she ended up with my Dad’s old Jeep, which is an entire post on its own.
After my sophomore year at MSU I ended up with an internship at IBM out in Rochester, Minnesota. There was only one problem: I still wasn’t comfortable behind the wheel. On my first day of driver’s education, back in June 1995, my cousin A, who is only 10 months older than me, ended up being hit head on by a drunk driver. Fortunately A survived; the other driver did not. A owned a white 1988 Grand Prix, and it too probably saved her life.
As one can imagine, her crash left an impression on me as a new driver, especially since we grew up together and went to the same schools. I simply didn’t trust other drivers. Things were better by my sophomore year at MSU, but the idea of driving out to Minnesota for the summer was daunting. My Grandma ended up riding out to Rochester with me and then flew home. By the end of the summer, I looked forward to the drive home by myself.
My drive home from Minnesota is one of my favorite memories of my 1989 Grand Prix. I loaded up my sister’s 5 CD changer with my favorites and drove through Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the UP of Michigan. It happened to be a gorgeous August day, and I was anxious to start getting ready for my year of adventures in Ecuador and Spain. After all those years, I finally started to feel comfortable behind the wheel.
If I learned how to drive in my 1989 Grand Prix, I learned to love to drive in my 2002 Grand Prix. That poor car: I put it through a lot! It has a few trips from Michigan to Texas and back again on it, and almost exactly 183,000 miles when I turned it in last week.
The thing is: It was not the original car I wanted. My Mom talked me into it. Sure, I wanted another Grand Prix, but I wanted a sexy gold 2001 with leather seats and a sun roof. The cars happened to be about the same price. My Mom talked me out of the gold 2-door though. She brought up the fact that I’d probably be moving at least once after college and the 4-door gray would be infinitely more practical. She couldn’t have been more right. I moved several times with the help of that car.
The funny thing is that the 2002 I owned echoed some of the styling of the Grand Prixes of the 1970s. As a child, the Mom of one of my best friends owned a chocolate brown late 1970s Grand Prix – a boat of a car. I remember thinking how deep the backseats were back then. The same goes for the 2002. In fact, three of my little cousins, all siblings, ended up getting carsick riding in the backseat of my car. I doubt any of the three could see out the side windows at the time.
Oddly, I can’t say I have any memories of dating in either of my cars. I didn’t date in high school, and when I finally did date in college, we always ended up either not driving or taking my date’s car. I do have very fond memories of my boyfriend Brian’s old Pontiac 6000 though. It wasn’t particularly sexy or great looking, but Brian more than made up for that. It was just a great car with even better memories. Originally owned by Brian’s Grandma Menja (Marie), Brian drove the 6000 throughout high school and college. Brian totaled the car in 2001 only to have it fixed up and continue driving it until after we graduated from college in 2004.
In fact, most of our first date – the worst blind date I’ve ever been on – took place in that car. It happened to be a rainy, freezing late February night in 2000, and since we couldn’t decide what to do next on our date, we spent a good share of the evening just driving around Bay City, trying to get warm and dry after getting caught in a freezing rain walking along the riverfront. After we finally got together in 2004, we always seemed to find ourselves driving around in that car. We drove all over Lansing, East Lansing, and Michigan State. I loved that car too and was sad to see it go.
One of the best memories I have of that car is coming home to my apartment in East Lansing on graduation day to see him sitting on the trunk of his Pontiac looking like the best graduation gift ever. My family couldn’t come to the graduation ceremony for my Spanish degree from the College of Arts and Letters, they were coming the following day for my graduation from business school, so Brian decided to come. Memories of that last semester of college and that spring are some of the best of my life, thanks largely to Brian.
Yeah, you could say that I liked Pontiacs. I will never understand GM’s decision to kill the brand. If they ever bring it back, I will definitely take a look at what they have to offer. Since Pontiac’s demise in 2009, I’ve heard time and time again that the Aztec was to blame. I have to admit, it is quite possibly the ugliest car I’ve ever seen, although I don’t think it was the sole reason why GM decided to kill Pontiac. Unfortunately, Pontiac’s untimely demise left a huge hole in downtown Bay City. Dunlap Pontiac closed its doors in downtown Bay City after 85 years in business.
I love cars, and I’m not sure if I could truly call myself a Michigander if I didn’t. Last week I not only said goodbye to a car I owned for over 10 years, I said goodbye to a brand I loved. I’m just glad my Mom still owns her 2007 Pontiac Solstice. I loved my Pontiacs. I love my new Chevy Malibu too. What I really love is the freedom a car represents. I think it is time for a road trip. Feel free to share your car memories in the comments.
There are various reasons why I took an extended break from blogging. I want to share the details very shortly, but here’s the issue: There is just so much to say. While personally my life is heading in the right direction, and there is great potential for me to achieve some of the most important goals I’ve set for my life, every day I’m surrounded by a society that appears to be coming apart at the seams. I’d love to put my sense of loss – and concern for my country – into words. I’m simply not there yet.
Ok. For some reason “Sweet Child O’ Mine” has been in my head lately. It would actually make a perfect theme song for this blog. Of course, as soon as I start stalking YouTube to listen in and maybe even find the original music video, so many other great Guns ‘N’ Roses songs came up. “November Rain” and “Welcome to the Jungle” in particular, both of which will always remind me some of the best times in college.
I’ve been promising a series of posts focusing on Paul McCartney for some time now. I suppose I’ll start with the obvious question: Why am I such a huge fan? It is all about creativity. I don’t think anyone or anything has inspired me as much as the Beatles, Paul McCartney in particular. As I have no musical talent whatsoever, and have no desire to pursue music, you may ask how that is possible. It is all in the lyrics. Please tell me how a writer wouldn’t be inspired by the man who largely wrote the lyrics below. I dare you. Supposedly Paul McCartney wrote this for his one-time fiancée Jane Asher. The song, of course, is only one of hundreds, with the Beatles, Wings, and solo.
I’m looking through you Where did you go? I thought I knew you What did I know?
You don’t look different But you have changed I’m looking through you You’re not the same
Your lips are moving I cannot hear Your voice is soothing But the words aren’t clear
You don’t sound different I’ve learned the game I’m looking through you You’re not the same
Why, tell me why Did you not treat me right? Love has a nasty habit Of disappearing overnight
You’re thinking of me The same old way You were above me But not today
The only difference Is you’re down there I’m looking through you And you’re nowhere
Why, tell me why Did you not treat me right? Love has a nasty habit Of disappearing overnight
I’m looking through you Where did you go? I thought I knew you What did I know?
You don’t look different But you have changed I’m looking through you You’re not the same
Yeah, oh, baby you’ve changed Aah, I’m a-looking through you Yeah, I’m looking through you You’ve changed, you’ve changed You’ve changed, you’ve changed
Below is the video if you are in the mood for some vintage Beatles or just a great song.
Now that you know where my interest in Paul McCartney’s work comes from, it is time to learn how it all began well over 50 years ago. It is well-known that John Lennon met Paul McCartney at the Wooten Village fete in July of 1957. What many might not know is what actually got Paul into the band. It was a nearly perfect performance of “Twenty Flight Rock” by Eddie Cochran. He knew all of the words.
The rest, of course, is history. Since the entire history of the Beatles is well-covered ground, and I had my fair share of fun dredging it all up again this past April, I won’t go there. What happened to Paul McCartney after the Beatles is almost as interesting as anything that came before.
I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, whatever possessed Paul’s wife Linda to agree to be in a band with her famous husband, I’ll never know. I’m just glad she did. Wings weren’t the Beatles, but that seems to be the point. It just started out as Paul, Linda, their kids, and their dogs. I’ve included the first few parts of Wingspan. It is fascinating. The videos speak for themselves. For those who don’t know, the interviewer for Wingspan is Paul and Linda’s oldest daughter Mary.
More than anything I admire Paul McCartney’s, and the Beatles’, dogged determination to get it right. They weren’t content to leave things as they were; they continued to innovate. Many people don’t know this, but Paul McCartney has also tried his hand at classical music (quite successfully), pursued abstract painting, and worked to save his and George’s school from demolition. It is now the Liverpool Institute for the Performing Arts, or LIPA. Oh, and he isn’t done… yet.
The Beatles Anthology is much more complete than I ever imagined. It nicely set the stage for Love years later, both the Cirque de Soleil show and the album.
The Beatles gave it their all and truly loved one another. I’d realized this before, but it is an inescapable conclusion of the Anthology.
John, Paul, George, and Ringo were first and foremost fans. In describing their various musical influences, it is clear they remained in awe of the likes of Carl Perkins, Buddy Holly, Elvis, the Ronettes, and more, long after they achieved fame themselves. Their desire to take that music further is what ultimately led to their success and their continued popularity.
Both “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love” were better songs than I remembered, and even better videos. They were modest hits at the time of release, but at the time I didn’t really register their significance or how truly good they really are.
The Beatles Anthology is truly a gift to fans. In the extra segments in the Anthology, Paul, George, and Ringo discuss the technical difficulties in making both “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love” from unfinished and unreleased Lennon tracks. They state that “Free As A Bird” is truly a Beatles song, while “Real Love” is much more similar to John Lennon’s solo work. I couldn’t agree more. It says a lot about the band that the three remaining Beatles (at the time) put aside petty grievances to complete the work they started so long ago, and include their slain band mate in a fundamental way. All of them had long established solo careers at the time of the Anthology and could have easily walked away from anything relating to the Beatles; they didn’t
I have to say, after reviewing all of the extras in the Anthology, the ukulele scene at the end of “Free As A Bird” gets to me even more now. I think most Beatles fans recognize it as a tribute to John Lennon. Legend has it that John’s mom, Julia, taught him to play the ukulele first. When John and Paul first became friends, Paul had to teach John guitar chords as he still played the ukulele chords his mom taught him.
But it gets even better. According to the director, George wanted to play the ukulele in the ending scene of “Free As A Bird.” The director said no. At the time he wanted someone not recognizably a Beatle to play it. Of course, after George passed away in 2001, the director felt horrible about his decision. I can imagine George wanted to play it as a tribute to John.
I suppose that is what I absolutely love about the “Free As A Bird.” There are so many references to Beatles songs in the video I notice something new every time I watch the video. It literally covers every aspect of their career. I have no idea how any band could ever top their career and everything they accomplished. It may be cliché to say that or even admit to being a Beatles fan. I simply don’t care. Sometimes things are cliché simply because they are true.
The essence of this article is great, but I can’t help but feel there is something missing. Why should it only be a handful? Why aren’t we doing more to encourage entrepreneurship? No, instead we punish those who wish to create anything at all levels of government – local, state, and federal. I have to admit, Michigan as a state is striving to do better, but the inept government of Bay City is doing absolutely nothing to help.
Anyway, I hope some good can come out of this get-together. I might just go. I’d love to better understand how those entrepreneurs got started. That has always been my dream.
I’m hoping to make some decisions regarding my writing soon. I need a fresh start. I have all these wonderful ideas, and then they just fall away because I don’t make the time to follow through. I can do so much better.
Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde 