Friends--I guess I haven't had a lot of them in my lifetime, and on several occasions, I have been stabbed in the back. Makes me want to join a convent, take a vow of silence and never talk to anybody again (other than my husband, so I guess I can't do the convent thing). What is it about people that when they are mad, upset, or angry, that they often take their emotions out on the very people that have been there, trying to help them. Of course, in this situation, I made the mistake of having a co-worker as a friend, and then when I got moved into a management position, I tried to still be a friend--hell, I had been a friend for 2 years before they decided to make me a manager. So, the minute you are a manager, I guess, all bets are off, and friendship flies out the window, especially if you have to "counsel" someone. I keep talking about the fact that I am "what you see is what you get". I am not anything other than myself. I care about the people I work with, (when you spend 8 hours a day with folks, you should hopefully care about them to some degree). So, I trust people, think that they are like me, and aren't out get you. Well, guess what--don't believe it.
So, it's a good thing I will be gone for two weeks, because if I had to go to work and see this person, I would probably say something I shouldn't say. I've learned my lesson--don't be friends with the people you work with, (other than the ones that are far away and you don't supervise).
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Tribal Envy
Seems like I do a bunch of my thinking while I am driving in to work every morning--in between the good songs on the XM radio (they should pay me for the plugs). Well, I have often thought about the fact that in my 30 year career, I have worked with tribal programs over 25 of those years. I lived on the Hopi Reservation, worked with tribes in Maine, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Florida, North Carolina, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Nevada. I have gotten to go to pow wows, bean dances, katsina dances, feast days, isolated clinics on the Yomba Reservation, casinos in places you could never imagine there would be a casino, and I can tell you, it wasn't easy, but I loved it all.
I started thinking about what the draw was for me, and I think that one of the draws to my time spent especially in the Southwest is the intact culture. I grew up as a Southern girl(born in Georgia), whose Dad was in the military and moved around, so I never got to stay too long in any one place, and my English, Irish, French and German ancestery (although I claim the Irish more than any other) didn't translate to many traditions other than Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving.
When I was on the Hopi Reservation, I got a chance to really see an intact culture (at the time, hopefully it still is) in all its splendor. There were ceremonies throughout the year. There were ceremonies that happened ever several years like Shalako . There were many things that I only saw from the periphery, but it all came down to "if you were a Hopi woman", there were many things that you were expected to take part in, provide for, dance for, care about. And, as an outsider, I fell in love with the tradition, the colors and smells, and sounds, the food and the anticipation of it all. Like, being in the Kiva on a cold winter night and you can hear the sounds of the Katsinas as they approach the kiva, stomp on the roof, and decend the ladder into the cozy warmth of 30-40 women and children waiting with expectation.
So, as I thought about one of my many books that one day I fantasize that I will write (see older posts). I thought about my "autobiography" and it's title. I decided that it should be called, "Tribal Envy". I know it sounds crazy, but for a mainstreamer like me, sounds like home. Until I get to that point that I can write it, don't be stealing my title.
I started thinking about what the draw was for me, and I think that one of the draws to my time spent especially in the Southwest is the intact culture. I grew up as a Southern girl(born in Georgia), whose Dad was in the military and moved around, so I never got to stay too long in any one place, and my English, Irish, French and German ancestery (although I claim the Irish more than any other) didn't translate to many traditions other than Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving.
When I was on the Hopi Reservation, I got a chance to really see an intact culture (at the time, hopefully it still is) in all its splendor. There were ceremonies throughout the year. There were ceremonies that happened ever several years like Shalako . There were many things that I only saw from the periphery, but it all came down to "if you were a Hopi woman", there were many things that you were expected to take part in, provide for, dance for, care about. And, as an outsider, I fell in love with the tradition, the colors and smells, and sounds, the food and the anticipation of it all. Like, being in the Kiva on a cold winter night and you can hear the sounds of the Katsinas as they approach the kiva, stomp on the roof, and decend the ladder into the cozy warmth of 30-40 women and children waiting with expectation.
So, as I thought about one of my many books that one day I fantasize that I will write (see older posts). I thought about my "autobiography" and it's title. I decided that it should be called, "Tribal Envy". I know it sounds crazy, but for a mainstreamer like me, sounds like home. Until I get to that point that I can write it, don't be stealing my title.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
What your Music Collection Says About You
http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2003/07/10/1057783259813.html
I was thinking today (you can see I have a musical theme going and can't seem to get off it today) about what your music collection says about you. I was driving to work, listening to Russel Watson (opera and stuff), very loud, and wishing I knew what the words meant when all of these thoughts hit me. My daughter had voiced it earlier this year: The songs that sort of described your life is one way of looking at it, or just what does your CD collection look like and what that means. So, for now, I will wait to talk about the songs that describe my life, and think about my music collection.
My music collection back in the day when it was all vinyl was all about folk music and the Beatles for the most part, James Taylor, Livingston Taylor, Melanie, I can't even remember--and whenever we moved, my albums were always sold to make money, and my ex-husband's albums were always sacred-(another reason he is an ex) His collection back then was lots of jazz albums (which I have and are probably worth some money, so maybe that's a good thing). He had improvisational, Archie Shepp, Yusef Latif, all of these albums. Then, one summer, he was off in school in Flagstaff, and recorded a Chieftains album for me off the radio. I felt like I had found my home. It spoke to me in a way modern music never had. (being that I'm part Irish, but that's another story) I quickly amassed as many of the Chieftains albums as I could get from the used record store (these I do still have). That started me on the road to collecting world music--still stuck in that one I'm afraid. Then, when we lived on the Reservation, he found a source for American Indian artists, so both of us amassed a small collection of pow wow, Plains, Yaqui, Navajo, and other albums.(still have those too). Then, for a long time, I gave up on collecting because I got tired of them disappearing.
Of course during that time I was also collecting tapes--(which are in a box somewhere). It wasn't until I remarried that I even had a CD-player. For our wedding present, we bought each other a Stereo system for the house, with a CD-player, but of course, we had no CD's. Thanks to BMG and other such overpriced systems for acquiring new music, we soon had the shelves full. So, what's on the shelves--
Well, 2 shelves are world music, including Andrea Boccelli, Sarah Brightman, Russell Watson,Utapi, Chieftains, Clannad, Enya, Bossa Brazil, and a multitude of others.
Two shelves are the old classics--Eric Clapton, Michael McDonald, James Taylor, Dr. John, Queen, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Starship, etc etc etc
Two shelves are women artists such as Bonnie Raitt, Emy Lou Harris, Tracy Chapman, Heart, Cowboy Junkies, etc.
A Reggae shelf--Bob and Ziggy, Rusted Root, etc.
A bluegrass shelf,
And a mishmash shelf of things like Bill and Bonnie Hearne, O Brother Where Art Thou, Zydego music, and a general compilation of everything except for country--never really got into country.
What does it mean to me? To me it says, I never know what mood will strike me and where I want to take myself--away, through the music, to some other world. Guess I'm just a music traveler--instead of globe trecker, I'm music trecker.
So hopefully, for now I've gotten a little more of this out of my system.
2 in 1 day--
Nancy
I was thinking today (you can see I have a musical theme going and can't seem to get off it today) about what your music collection says about you. I was driving to work, listening to Russel Watson (opera and stuff), very loud, and wishing I knew what the words meant when all of these thoughts hit me. My daughter had voiced it earlier this year: The songs that sort of described your life is one way of looking at it, or just what does your CD collection look like and what that means. So, for now, I will wait to talk about the songs that describe my life, and think about my music collection.
My music collection back in the day when it was all vinyl was all about folk music and the Beatles for the most part, James Taylor, Livingston Taylor, Melanie, I can't even remember--and whenever we moved, my albums were always sold to make money, and my ex-husband's albums were always sacred-(another reason he is an ex) His collection back then was lots of jazz albums (which I have and are probably worth some money, so maybe that's a good thing). He had improvisational, Archie Shepp, Yusef Latif, all of these albums. Then, one summer, he was off in school in Flagstaff, and recorded a Chieftains album for me off the radio. I felt like I had found my home. It spoke to me in a way modern music never had. (being that I'm part Irish, but that's another story) I quickly amassed as many of the Chieftains albums as I could get from the used record store (these I do still have). That started me on the road to collecting world music--still stuck in that one I'm afraid. Then, when we lived on the Reservation, he found a source for American Indian artists, so both of us amassed a small collection of pow wow, Plains, Yaqui, Navajo, and other albums.(still have those too). Then, for a long time, I gave up on collecting because I got tired of them disappearing.
Of course during that time I was also collecting tapes--(which are in a box somewhere). It wasn't until I remarried that I even had a CD-player. For our wedding present, we bought each other a Stereo system for the house, with a CD-player, but of course, we had no CD's. Thanks to BMG and other such overpriced systems for acquiring new music, we soon had the shelves full. So, what's on the shelves--
Well, 2 shelves are world music, including Andrea Boccelli, Sarah Brightman, Russell Watson,Utapi, Chieftains, Clannad, Enya, Bossa Brazil, and a multitude of others.
Two shelves are the old classics--Eric Clapton, Michael McDonald, James Taylor, Dr. John, Queen, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Starship, etc etc etc
Two shelves are women artists such as Bonnie Raitt, Emy Lou Harris, Tracy Chapman, Heart, Cowboy Junkies, etc.
A Reggae shelf--Bob and Ziggy, Rusted Root, etc.
A bluegrass shelf,
And a mishmash shelf of things like Bill and Bonnie Hearne, O Brother Where Art Thou, Zydego music, and a general compilation of everything except for country--never really got into country.
What does it mean to me? To me it says, I never know what mood will strike me and where I want to take myself--away, through the music, to some other world. Guess I'm just a music traveler--instead of globe trecker, I'm music trecker.
So hopefully, for now I've gotten a little more of this out of my system.
2 in 1 day--
Nancy
Make Your Own Kind of Music
I remember when Mama Cass and the Mama's and the Papa's were big--yes, I'm old, and I'm okay with it. One of my favorite songs was "Make Your Own Kind of Music". It goes back quite a long way. I used to play guitar when I was in college. My husband bought me a Yamaha folk guitar way back in the early 70's. I never took lessons, but I got the books, learned some chords, and had a great time singing to myself. I had songbooks by the Beatles, and Jackson Brown, and Linda Rondstat, and some even more oldie goldies--it was great. I only played when I was by myself, and sang along. I figured I had missed my calling as a folk singer and could just imagine myself as so many of us do long ago, of sitting outside, playing and singing and getting discovered. Well, that never happened, and it is probably a good thing. Where would I be now if I had been "discovered". Certainly not where I am, with who I am. So, I'm not complaining.
When my kids came along, I was able to endulge myself by playing and singing to them--a captive audience, and when they are young, they don't care what you sing--they love music too. I think all kids are born loving music--it's what happens to them over time that changes that. So, I used to play my guitar while the youngest two were in the bathtub--always liked the bathrooms for the acoustics. I played my guitar sometimes to get them to sleep.
And then, somewhere along the road, they grew up--figured out I wasn't that good, and all was lost----I was devastated. They no longer wanted me to sing and play my guitar. Now, if I wanted to sing--I would have to go somewhere by myself (well with 4 kids, that never happens). And so, over time, I stopped playing. The guitar got put in a closet, lost with all the memories of those wonderful times of baring my soul in the song. It makes you wonder, why we let people do these things to us--give up something we really loved because we lacked their approval. It shouldn't be that way. I can tell you, my present husband loves it when I sing, and when we travel, we sing to the radio, and he never makes a face, or gives me that look. (That's what love is really all about!).
So, I continue to make my own kind of music--in different ways now (one of my sons ran off with my guitar--it was vintage--now it's worth something). I fill my life with music whenever I can. I have XM in my car--I listen to streaming music in my office--(the real PC stuff), I sing to the radio when I'm by myself or with my husband, and when the kids are gone, I put the CD's on and dance around just like I was 12 (well, in my head I still am). I might be crazy, but it is critical to my sanity. Our lives are filled with music, and when they are not, we are missing something big time. We need to surround ourselves with the beauty and creativity that is everywhere. It makes us feel better, helps us make it through the day.
So to all of you out there--don't be afraid--make your own music, sing your own song, and enjoy every minute of it. It's all we get.
From the beginnings of fall in Atlanta
Nancy
When my kids came along, I was able to endulge myself by playing and singing to them--a captive audience, and when they are young, they don't care what you sing--they love music too. I think all kids are born loving music--it's what happens to them over time that changes that. So, I used to play my guitar while the youngest two were in the bathtub--always liked the bathrooms for the acoustics. I played my guitar sometimes to get them to sleep.
And then, somewhere along the road, they grew up--figured out I wasn't that good, and all was lost----I was devastated. They no longer wanted me to sing and play my guitar. Now, if I wanted to sing--I would have to go somewhere by myself (well with 4 kids, that never happens). And so, over time, I stopped playing. The guitar got put in a closet, lost with all the memories of those wonderful times of baring my soul in the song. It makes you wonder, why we let people do these things to us--give up something we really loved because we lacked their approval. It shouldn't be that way. I can tell you, my present husband loves it when I sing, and when we travel, we sing to the radio, and he never makes a face, or gives me that look. (That's what love is really all about!).
So, I continue to make my own kind of music--in different ways now (one of my sons ran off with my guitar--it was vintage--now it's worth something). I fill my life with music whenever I can. I have XM in my car--I listen to streaming music in my office--(the real PC stuff), I sing to the radio when I'm by myself or with my husband, and when the kids are gone, I put the CD's on and dance around just like I was 12 (well, in my head I still am). I might be crazy, but it is critical to my sanity. Our lives are filled with music, and when they are not, we are missing something big time. We need to surround ourselves with the beauty and creativity that is everywhere. It makes us feel better, helps us make it through the day.
So to all of you out there--don't be afraid--make your own music, sing your own song, and enjoy every minute of it. It's all we get.
From the beginnings of fall in Atlanta
Nancy
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