Ah yes, rhyme. One of my stickler words that I can never spell. That and its cousin rhythym. See, I couldn’t even spell it right then. It’s rhythm. I had to look it up. I always have to look it up. I find it kind of amazing that I can’t get a handle on that word. I seem to get a handle on most other things going on but for some reason, rhythm is not one of them. I remember in the sixth grade we had monthly spelling bees. I took great pride in my spelling prowess so by the time February rolled around and I still hadn’t won I was practically offended. At who or what I’m not sure as no one could spell these words for me. In any event, I marched downstairs and announced to my Dad that I was going to win the spelling bee that day. So in to school I went, ready. And…I won! Really only because all of us remaining kids spelled “license” wrong. I had a second chance and I pulled it off. It was the first time I realized the art of mindfully visualizing what you want. You put that image in your head, you focus your energies on it, you literally put your mind to it and there is a very good chance you will make it happen. It has served me well over the years. And I’ve been able to properly spell license ever since.
Oh man magnetic. You mean like when you are so attracted to someone when you don’t even know why? Or that feeling of wanting to go somewhere that doesn’t make sense to you? I do believe that magnetism is closely related to chemistry. It’s all this stuff that we just can’t control. And when you can’t control, it makes you want to control even more. And when that doesn’t happen, the resistance goes up and then that in and of itself becomes a lot of work. So much work in fact that this situation is now occupying your brain when in fact you don’t want it to occupy your brain. But because the chemical magnet works whether you want it to or not, you kind of don’t have a choice, until you become strong enough to make the choice and muster all of the strength you have to break the spell and even then sometimes it’s not enough. Yeah, that’s where I’m at. Perhaps today’s Daily Prompt should have been Ironic.
I attended a funeral the other day. I always find it an interesting homage to someone, the whole funeral ritual. What strikes me in particular is riding in the funeral procession. Everything stops. The traffic stops, people on the street stop, even sound seems to stop. As I look at the calm, I always think, what a tribute by total strangers. Everything stops to honor a life, hopefully well lived. Everyone stops to notice, yes, this person is no longer with us. It’s one of the few things left that society notices. Well, most of the time but it’s certainly not like it used to be. These days everyone is too busy marching around in their own little worlds, cell phone in tow, to give a damn about anything. I honestly don’t like where we are at these days and I find myself staying out of the fray more and more. That of course, is not the right thing to do, for the more you stay away, the harder it is to deal with. Without coping mechanisms, life is that much harder upon venturing out when you must. The man being honored was 91. I can’t help but think how different the world was for him than it is for me. Time moved slower, the right things were important and people cared. We should be paying homage to that era of humanity and let it resonate with us enough to get back to where we belong. Civility.
Substandard. Now there’s a word that I just recently used. To describe my performance. Or lack thereof. I have always held myself to a higher standard, because, hey, if you don’t, who will? I remember when I first moved to L.A. to work in Hollywood in 1990, I immediately noticed the difference between the West Coast kids and the East Coast kids like me. We simply outworked them. Our natural (nurtured?) East Coast hustle outpaced the laid back attitude of the California natives. Not that it had anything to do with substandard anything, it’s just a memory that popped in to my head. The details are as precise as a laser in my memory of the Hollywood years. I was fresh out of college and in retrospect, was so high strung about making my mark and being successful (there are those high standards again) that I remember just being stressed out all the time. In California. How ironic. I didn’t last long. I could go on and on as to why but at the end of the day, I just didn’t like it. Also ironic because as a kid all I did was dream of going to California like my cousins did. Then, I finally get there and…that. After the L.A. letdown, I had it in my head that Northern California was the place for me but the Bay Area was an impenetrable fortress of real estate hell, much like it is now. Instead I found my home in the American South, with its charm and its ease and its balminess. Now that was some magic. ATL in the Nineties. My words will never do it justice but my memories, they will serve me well. I will cherish them forever, until I can remember no more.