Midnight, Here I Come

Sometimes, late at night, I indulge in sadness.

If I can manage to so much as break a tear, I can prime the pump and bring forth a wellspring of deep sorrow, covered by time and inhibitions and daylight and more important things. I can reach deep into my soul and spirit and find remnants of lost pain, grief, fear, longing, fury, disappointment, anger, loss, defeat. It bubbles up and flows for me in the darkest hours of the night, and I can almost savor its sweetness. It's hard to turn off once it starts, except for falling asleep.

This cleansing, this ritual, this purging of negative feelings... it is the hope that tomorrow I will feel clean and fresh and new and happy.

And then tomorrow comes. And sometimes, to be totally honest, I just feel dumb. What the heck was I crying about, anyway? Am I really cleaning out the corners of my battered soul, preparing for a brighter tomorrow? Or is it possible, just maybe, that late at night I just feel emotional and worn down and... I'm just making some of it up? Am I really so sad about all these things? If I cry them out will they be done, or is it possible that I could cry about them any old night because the sadness just exists there in me?

Maybe I need to embrace the sadness and live with it, rather than always trying to "cry it out." And maybe, if that's the case, crying about it over and over late at night is nothing but simply indulgence. It's not cleansing or purging, but just... entertaining. And if so, is that bad? Well... I want to say no. But poor Jared! How many nights does he have to hold me while I'm crying, asking me what I'm crying about to my "I don't know." If I don't know, is it doing me any good?

Can you tell Jared's out of town? I've posted, like, four times in twenty four hours.

Okay, okay, okay!

I give up! I'm joining the crowd. I'm going with the flow. I'm on the bandwagon. I'm on myspace.

I've been made fun of, cajoled, harassed, and questioned enough. Okay I believe you all! I should be on myspace. And now I am. :)


Are any of you on myspace? I feel kinda lonely there so far.

• If you are on myspace, add me as a friend (lest I look like a hermit to people who visit).
• If you are on myspace, use my tunes on your profile! Yeah!
  
• If you are on myspace, listen to music, comment on it, tell friends.
• If you are not on myspace, maybe you'd enjoy checking it out and listening to the audio-stream.
  

myspace.com/skyepixton

Really, thanks, all you who love me, (ahem. Tamara) for making me do it.

Ouch. My Heart

Kaaren, Clayton and triplets
Originally uploaded by tompixton.

I just made the mistake of looking at pictures of my nieces and nephew that moved to Kansas a couple of months ago. I miss them so much. I am so afraid they will grow up not knowing who I am. I know they will. There's no way around it. I love their little souls. I miss them like you wouldn't believe.

Never look at pictures of babies in the middle of the night.

sniff.

I met my husband last night.

It was weird. There we were at the Belle & Sebastien concert. I have never listened to Belle & Sebastien until three days ago. Jared's childhood buddy was coming to town for the concert, and so Jared scrambled to find tickets to the sold out show. Then he went and bought the album, since he didn't have the new one.

I've long known that Jared is into indie rock. I'm a folk-singer. And, strangely, I really like pop-punk radio-ready music. That and alternative. And jazz. And techno. And anyway, indie rock is good too, but I've never really had a "thing" for it. In fact, I don't like a lot of indie rock. It's too... indie... for me. I like the convention of the ABABCB song structure. I like 1/4/5 major chords paired with melodic harmonies and driving choruses. I like to be able to tell which instrument is which and have a clear identification of what I'm listening to.

Things I don't like: voices that are bad, people who can't sing and think it's cute, lots of distortion so you can't distinguish a melody, too much dissonance at one time, bangy crashy abrasive sounds, weird formless songs, long rants on a theme in the middle of a tune that don't match. Anyway. Indie is hit and miss for me.
Love: Death Cab for Cutie.
Hate: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.

So anyway, I didn't expect much of the concert for myself. But here's my dilemma: "Jared wants to do something fun together and I don't? That can't happen!! So, yeah, I'm going to the concert. I'm gonna like it too. I'm gonna dance. I'm gonna listen to B&S on my ipod until I've force-fed myself into liking it."

But little did I know what I would really get at the Roseland that night.

There we were, surrounded by a sold-out theater of other Belle & Sebastien enthusiasts. Here's this kinda geeky band onstage, the lead singer all twiggy limbs and unassuming charisma. I looked around at the audience and saw a sea of thrifted button-up shirts, plastic-rimmed glasses, short messy hair. Guys like Jared. Hundreds of them! They all looked up at the stage with spacey and contented looks on their faces. They bobbed to the music. They swayed. Not a foot left its spot on the floor all night. It was like watching a gentle breeze come over a wheat-field. Only the wheat is geeks in glasses and cool shoes. All night! It was so funny! (in a good way, of course. Cool geeks, of course. You know what I mean. The kind of endearing sexy geeks you see on, like, "Friends").

Jared stood next to me and beamed like I'd never seen, his little head bobbing up and down to the music, his ears carefully protected by Leight Sleepers (TM) earrplugs. Suddenly, it clicked. This is Jared's tribe! These are his people! All this time, I've been trying to figure out what makes Jared tick. Who is Jared? I mean, it's not like he's a misfit or anything, and obviously I know him really well. But he does remain somewhat of an enigma to me. Especially among my friends. But those are my friends, from my tribe. So there I was visiting his world, and it suddenly all made sense. Uuuuoh! Jared is one of these people!

And now, of course, I can't really tell you what I actually learned about Jared (wouldn't that be convenient). But by the nature of the thing, it's something you'd have to be there to understand. It's like when I traveled to England with my mother. Having experienced British culture for just three weeks, I felt like I understood so much about her. So much of her personality traits came from her upbringing there, and I always just thought they were unique to her. All Brits love to to garden, value aesthetics and high culture, enjoy a good tea-time, and believe in ettiquette (to name a few things). My mom is partially a product of this, and so my trip helped me to understand her in a different way. Last night I saw where Jared came from. Not his family or his home town, but his "tribe" that he himself chose to be a part of. I saw his heart. I watched him experience something native to him, not trying to fit into me.

And the concert really good too. Now I genuinely like the band. Thanks, Belle & Sebastien.

Mantras for Marriage

"CONFLICT ALERT! CONFLICT ALERT!"

This is what we're supposed to say when we sense an argument coming on from now on. The other night it was about whether the original words to the song are "popcorn popping right before my eyes!" or "blossoms popping right before my eyes!"

This little spiff, believe it or not, got rather heated. So, we decided that desperate times call for desperate measures (or stupid people call for stupid solutions). Since neither of us seems to inherently have the maturity in the moment to recognize that we're not mad about the issue at hand, but rather about things like being respected, feeling heard, etc., we developed this mantra, which we're supposed to recite together after either of us has sounded the "conflict alarm."

"Honey I love you.
Your opinion is valuable to me and I respect your experience and feelings.
It is OK if you don't agree with me.
If one of us is swayed in our opinion, I will be gracious, and not boastful."

Pretty good, huh? The funny thing is, neither of us ever actually calls the other one "Honey," so I'm sensing the possibility for sarcasm right away. Also, I guess we'll just have to see if it works at all. I mean, I'm never thinking "uh oh, I sense a conflict coming on. I'd better lovingly point it out." No. I'm always just thinking things like, "I"m SO right here! Oh! Oh! That was the stupidest point ever! Doesn't he see the flaw in his reasoning? Wait. Let ME tell you how it is, buddy!" (or something like that).

I have faith in Jared though. He'll sound the alarm. He's good at being mature. Even when I'm not.

No. Seriously. I jest. We can quip about who is more mature. But the truth of the matter is... the words "popcorn popping right before my eyes" are just better, even if they're not the ones in the children's hymnal! I mean the whole point of the song is the metaphor, right? If you have to spell it out for the idiot children who don't understand the whole blossoms-look-kinda-like-popcorn concept, then it ruins the poetry of the song! What kind of morons would change the words?! Morons who don't understand and appreciate artistry, that's who! Morons who are out to destroy all that is good and beautiful in the world! Morons who might be right historically, but that doesn't make them right artistically! That's who! So there. hmph.

"Sunday Night" at Skye's

Talking to Emily Potter on the phone (she's the litle blue glow behind our feet.

Feet (in order of appearance, I think): Skye, Emily, Keith, Kaarina, Bryce, Audrey (Jared & James were also in the room somewhere)

Two Kinds of People in the World:

I had an email snafoo yesterday. I am the administrator for an email list of over 500 people. I am very conscientious about keeping email addresses private and not spamming people.

BUT nevertheless, my server changed some settings as part of an "update" which overrode the protection that allows only me to post. Thus a family message about prayer accidentally got sent to all my music fans and list-ers.

I was embarassed, but also sortof chuckled that of course it would be an email about prayer. I don't mind my fans knowing that I'm spiritual, but I am very wary of being pigeon-holed as some religious or christian artist. Anyway, I didn't expect much response, but I have got a few emails, and they are either:

"TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST! I DON'T WANT PERSONAL EMAIL AND YOU'RE CLEARLY A BAD PERSON FOR FORCING THIS FAMILY DISCUSSION ON UNSUSPECTING LIST SUBSCRIBERS LIKE ME!"

(or something to that effect)

or else:

"Ha ha. No problem. We could all be thinking about prayer a little more anyway. :)"

Am I crazy to think that the polarized responses have to do with the religious nature of the email? It was pretty innocuous. Just a comment about the value of family prayer: it being nice to see each other once a day, whether we had prayed or not.

It's a good thing that a few people responded with the "How funny. I feel blessed to know you" style email, because I was getting really depressed and feeling personally wounded by those who were so vitriolic about wanting off the list over ONE little mistake (that wasn't my fault, I might add).

Anyway. Religious or not, I guess some people just get their panties in a wad over little things, and others are more relaxed and roll with it. And it seems like the difference between those types of people, in this instance at least, also corresponds to their spiritual openness. I'm sure that is not a P.C. thing to say. But I'm just sayin'.

My Favorite Person Today:

is this beautiful girl right here! She's my baby sister, Kyrstyn. This picture was taken last Saturday, while she was dressed and made-up for a show with one of her groups "The March Fourth Marching Band." (It's a really cool group. You can see pictures of their anniversary show that my Dad took by clicking HERE.)

Anyway, she also played with me on Monday night at The Edgefield. She's an amazing musician and an amazing person with such a beautiful soul!

In my large family, I'm the oldest daughter and she is the youngest. I was paid $5 to potty-train her years ago. I babysat at times. I taught her to burb and remember her first steps. As as older sibling, often you never have a chance to get to know your younger siblings like adults. But I've been blessed to have Kyrstyn near me and in my life the last couple of years and it's such a JOY! I mean, she's the coolest! I would never have known, had I not spent some time with her recently, how very extremely awesomely amazingly deeply rad she is! I am so honored to be not only her friend, but also her blood relative. If you dont' know Kyrstyn, you should. I am so lucky.

Ah, Modern Chivalry!

What do we do, in the modern world of today, about holding doors open for people and walking through them? I don't mean any old time. I always appreciate a man holding a door open for me. I'll always walk through it and thank him.

But.... these rules were invented before the modern phonomenon of the "double-doors."

Almost every LDS church building has them. Most office buildings have them now too, including the one I work in. So I encounter this dilemma often.

The first set of doors is no problem: walk through it, say thank you. But two steps later I find myself staring at a second set of doors, and I'm thinking, "um... okay, he's behind me now because he just opened the first doors. What do I do now? Do I wait for him to come through and get these doors for me too?" Pros & Cons:

• Pro: it acknowledges his chivalry and my gratitude for it.
  
• Con: I risk looking like a snobby woman who expects every man to open every door for her.
• Con: It's akward, standing there waiting while he shuffles by. I even have to step aside to make room like we're sharing a phone booth.
  
• Pro: it's a nod to old tradition and chivalrous ways, which I like.
• Con: I risk looking like a weak sniveling woman who thinks she might faint any moment or who wants to be dependent on a man. blech.
  

"Or do I walk through like the capable, self-actualized woman that I am?" Pros & Cons:

• Pro: less akward.
• Pro: I get to keep moving.
• Pro: demonstrates (as I said) that I am a capable woman and doesn't make me look weak.
• Con: Totally flies in the face of what he just did: "thanks, but no thanks, buddy. I can handle this myself, as you can see."
• Con: Doesn't this seem like the haughty woman just trampling on the polite men, whooshing by, flipping her hair behind her, and now I'm ahead of him in line, for the elevator, the DMV, the food, whatever else.
  
• Con: How rude! Shouldn't I, like, open the door for him now or something?

"Which brings up a whole new option. Do I return the favor?"

• Pro: Seems polite, on its face. He scratched my back, now I scratch his.
• Con: Weird! Girls don't open doors for guys. It might make him uncomfortable or make him feel, again, like I'm spurning his gesture.
• Con: That's really beyond the line, don't you think? Now I'm acting like he needs the door opened for him (he surely does not). But wait, isn't that what men think about women? I mean, I don't need the door opened for me either, but I appreciate it. But it's just weird the other way around!
  

I CAN'T WIN!

And then there are the variables: sometimes it's my dad or my brother, sometimes it's my husband, sometimes a stranger, sometimes another woman. AAAAAaaaurgh!

Does anyone else have this problem? Does anyone have The Answer?

The End of an Era

Tonight I finally said goodbye to my driving-love of the last ten years. My Rossinante, a.k.a. African Queenie, a.k.a. 1987 Subaru Wagon.

Two very nice men with mustaches checked her out, drove her around, asked me about all her problems (she has many), and gave me few dollars cash to take her off my hands.

I'll never forget all the beautiful trips we took, the sunsets, the beaches, the forbidden logging roads, the snowy mountain passes, the nights asleep (or not) in the back, the times stuck on the side of the road, the campsites no one else could get to or else no one else dared, the boyfriends that came and went, the endless visits to Les Schwabb, the cases and cases of oil, the new sports we undertook together, rescuing friends and family across icy roads when they were stuck with their two-wheel-drive woosie cars, the adventure and spirit and determined life we led...

...until the introduction of the newer, younger, less scratched-up, shinier, upgraded model.

I feel I've betrayed Rossinante in a way. Will Jared one day go for a newer model when I don't work as well anymore and am kindof an eyesore?

I teared up sitting behind the wheel for the last time to say goodbye. She has seen me through almost my entire single life. She could tell you more about me than probably any human being. (Is it weird that I have such affection for an inanimate object? Well, she' not inanimate. She took me all kinds of wonderful places. But still...)

Oh well. She'll always be remembered with love and fondess in my heart. Goodbye Rossie. Love, Skye