When You're Strange

Last night on PBS, they showed the documentary about The Doors, "When You're Strange", narrated by Johnny Depp. Don't know if you've heard of it, but I've been waiting quite a while to be able to see this.



Watching it last night and thinking about it today, I feel like I'm 15-years old again hearing Jim Morrison's voice for the first time. And, I cannot put into words how that feels and how much it means to me. It's an emotion that's indescribable. The best way I've ever known how to put it was like this: I just wanted to crawl into Jim Morrison's voice and hide. There was always a comfort and healing that I could find when I would hear him sing. His words always seemed to sum up the apartness from others I felt as a teenager. Like he understood. It was as if Jim Morrison's voice finally gave me my own.

Now, before you go thinking the worst, let me just tell you that I have a loving family, great parents, great sisters and brothers. I had friends who are still my friends, and I cherish their friendship deeply. I was never ostracized in any way in high school, actually the opposite. I was involved in many extra-curricular activities and could never really have been categorized as a loner. Very normal.

But, here's the thing: For me to be normal took a huge amount of effort. Now, that's not to say that others didn't find me a little weird or maybe a lot weird, they did. I just didn't let my total freak flag fly, as they say. I kept most of my far-out thoughts and ideas closely to myself. I couldn't be the true and real me. So, to make me feel better, I retreated to music, and the Doors were the perfect answer. Dark, moody, weird, far-out, everything their music has been described as summed me up perfectly. All you have to do is listen to "People Are Strange" and know that Jim Morrison felt alienated from others. And, so did I. We meshed perfectly.

And, for years the Doors and Jim Morrison were my solace and my world. I have books, posters, cd's and albums, shirts, hats, whatever you like that are a testament to that. If you wanted to know what I was like as a person, listen to their music because I wore my Doors affiliation like a badge of honor. One of my senior pictures is even Doors-themed. You get the drift.

Then, one day it changed. I'm sure it wasn't just a snap of the fingers, and boom, I'm normal. Because I'm just as strange as I always was. But now, I'm happier, more content with life, less angsty. I don't know if I just grew up or just had heard "Light My Fire" one too many times, but I didn't need Jim Morrison as much anymore. And that scared the hell out of me. Not only did I feel like a traitor to some sort of legacy, but I felt like a traitor to my younger self. Before if someone asked me who my favorite band was, who my idol was, I could answer without even taking a breath, The Doors - Jim Morrison. Now that wasn't the case anymore. I wasn't the "me" I had always known. And, it made me incredibly sad. I was leaving the past behind, and with it, Jim Morrison. Or, so I thought.

Last night reminded me that he's never far from my consciousness. Just watching him, hearing him speak, hearing him sing, listening to Johnny Depp speak about his meteoric rise, eventual fall and then his death just reiterated to me how much he is a part of me. I relived all the emotions I always had concerning his life and death. He was, is, and always will be a part of me.

Jim Morrison was so many things: singer, poet, alcoholic, icon, rebel, dangerous, sex symbol, etc. But, to me, he was and is so much more. And, for that I'm so grateful. A lot of him made me who I am today.

So thank you Jim Morrison, wherever you are.

The First Cut is the Deepest

I read blogs. Lots of blogs. I have a list on my computer of ones that I follow and ones that I will someday read, and that list is long and grows everyday. Actually it's not that much different than my list of books to read.

Why do I follow blogs? Mostly it's that I just love to read. I believe reading ANYTHING will teach you something new, whether it's reading a great novel or just reading the back of your shampoo bottle. You always learn something new.

Another reason I read blogs is because I am truly interested in how other people live, how they deal with problems, how they interact with the rest of the world, what they do for fun, etc. Reading about someone's life in NYC is pretty fascinating to me, since I've known nothing other than small town life.

I read the blogs of people I know and lots of people I don't know. Maybe that makes me a bit of a snoop, but I'm not trying to invade anyone's privacy. I'm just curious. But, I guess if you have a blog, some of your privacy is out the window anyhow. Also, I should make a point here that I follow most of these blogs anonymously because I'm too much of a chicken to make my presence known. Stupid, I know.

That being said, I just read today on one of my favorite blogs that the writer has decided to take an indefinite break because of so many hurtful comments she's received in the past few days regarding what people think she's like, how she lives, her outlook on life, everything. In her words, she's been "raked over the coals", and she's decided that to protect her heart and her head, she needs to step away. I'm disappointed on many counts. Firstly, because I really enjoy her writing. But mostly I'm disappointed because it's just more evidence of the cruelty some people inhibit.

I've never understood how people can take satisfaction out of the misery of others. How they can treat people like garbage and live with themselves. What justification does someone have in saying that a certain person deserves to be a punching bag and the world is better without them? It makes me sick, sad, mad, depressed all at the same time. If you don't like someone, avoid them. If you don't like certain music, change the station. If you don't like what someone is writing, don't read it. Pretty simple.

Maybe I'm naive. I believe the world should be worth living in, and everyone should treat others as they themselves would want to be treated. A difference in opinion should never be a deal-breaker. I don't care for country music, but I don't hate country music fans. I dislike the Dallas Cowboys, but I don't hate Cowboys fans. I may not agree with what everyone writes, but I always have the option to stop reading. It's called freedom of choice. And, it's also freedom of choice to make the decision to treat people with respect and kindness, instead of derision and meanness. Or as the old saying goes, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all".

It just makes me incredibly sad to know that there are people who derive happiness by treating others so terribly. What do they truly get out of it?

I mean, really, what's the point?

Valentine's Day

Ah the weekend of love is upon us, and another Valentine's Day approaches. To say I am ho-hum about the whole thing is really overstating how much I care about Valentine's Day. I think I used to care, but that would have been many, many years ago. Now it's just another day, sadly kinda like my birthday.

I know that there are people out there in love with love. Hallmark has made mega-bucks with the promotion of this particular holiday. Cards, flowers, chocolates galore! You can't walk into any store without being bombarded with the fact that you need to get on the ball and get your sweetie something special. And, for your effort, your love shall be eternal. All because you plopped down $10 on a card, whose uttering of love was written by someone else, and a cheap box of chocolates. I can feel the romance in the air. Can't you?

Maybe it's just sour grapes on my part. I haven't received a Valentine's-branded gift in years. My husband doesn't show his love with flowers and candy. He does it by making most of the meals in our house, giving our vehicles oil changes, and trudging in the snow to cut wood to keep our house warm in the winter, among other things. He may not be the most romantic person in the world, but I'm not either. I like candy, but we still have stockpiles of Sofia's Halloween candy left. I like flowers, but they only last for a few days. I don't need the usual trappings of Valentine's to know that I'm loved. I'm quite content without.

There you have it. I'm not anti-Valentine's Day, but I don't mark the day on my calendar with a giant red heart either. It will come and go. I do love love, but I'm not shelling out to Hallmark to prove it. They're doing just fine without me.

Just a note to those of you who do like flowers: Do not ever, under any circumstances, ever mention to your significant other that you think flowers are impractical. You will never receive another one again. Never. I am living proof. Ok, there are some sour grapes. But, I digress.

So for those of you who care:

Happy Valentine's Day!

Honesty

Even though you wouldn't know it, I've been two-timing you my faithful followers (all three of you). I've been writing posts behind your back and not publishing them. Why, you ask? Because I've been trying to work through some feelings not for public consumption. And, I think I have worked through them...for now.

So the long and short of it is: Sometimes I need to write out things that I'm feeling because expressing them in any form makes me feel better. But, on that same note, a lot of the time I want to keep them private because somewhere down the line they could end up hurting or embarrassing me or someone that I care about.

So, it's not you, it's me. :)

But, always know that if there is an opinion to be expressed about something stupid in current affairs, I'm your Gal Friday. And, I may from time to time let a bit of my personal side show, but only if I know that the only person I'll be affecting is me.

So for right now, I'll leave you with that. Don't mean to leave you hanging on what's going on, but that's how I roll. Also, this should be a reminder to myself to log out of Blogger when I'm done. Now that's food for thought...duh. Knowledge, not wisdom my fair friends. But, I'm working on it.

Hugs and kisses!