(Play)Lists: Young Hall, April 1998

I found pictures! Is it wrong to publish them without written consent of former roommates? Well, if it’s wrong, I don’t wanna be right. It messed up the song numbering, but it’s worth it . . . oh, the memories.

A mixed tape my roommates and I made to remember freshman year (still one of the very best and most significant years of my life) in 243 Young Hall:

Side 1:

1. Carrying the Banner (from Newsies) — I can almost hear Meg and Rach singing this from their middle bedroom
2. Footloose, Kenny Loggins — song of choice to get pumped up for cleaning checks if I remember correctly (Speaking of cleaning checks . . . )

1. Almost Paradise, Ann Wilson and Mike Reno (from Footloose)
2. If She Would Have Been Faithful, Chicago
3. Can’t Fight This Feeling, R. E. O. Speedwagon — a tribute to a certain roomie’s discovery that she might be in love with one of her best friends (it’s a testament to how much I loved those girls and wanted to remember them that I even included this song on my tape since I kinda hate it and always have)
4. Wishin and Hopin, Ani DiFranco (from My Best Friend’s Wedding) — we lip-synced to this for a ward talent show; photographic evidence somewhere in this house (Photographic evidence located . . .)

1. Journey to the Past (from Anastasia)
2. My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion — this was the year of Titanic, after all, which some roommates saw at least six times and I may or may not have been totally obnoxious about, repeatedly joking that “I don’t watch p0rn”
3. Lean on Me (from Lean on Me) — turns out we were really into soundtracks
4. Walking on Sunshine, Katrina and the Waves
5. I Won’t Say I’m in Love (from Hercules) — no idea who started the Hercules thing (I don’t think I’ve ever seen it) but this was frequently heard around the apartment

Side 2:

1. Go the Distance (from Hercules)
2. Sugar, Sugar, The Archies
3. Don’t Know What It Is, Nancy Hanson — I put a country song on my mixed tape; further evidence of my undying love for those girls
4. Fearless Heart, Nancy Hanson and Peter Breinholt
5. Have You Ever Been in Love?, Peter Cetera
6. Love Me Still, Chaka Khan
7. Shoop Shoop Song (It’s in His Kiss), Betty Everett — pretty sure this earned a spot on the playlist based on one isolated incident of blasting it out of Rach’s car and dancing around a parking lot in the middle of the night (which, it turns out, I have a picture of . . . )

1. Just Like Jesse James, Cher
2. After All, Cher and Peter Cetera
3. All I Ever Have To Be, Amy Grant
4. She’s Like the Wind, Patrick Swayze
5. Angel of the Morning, The Pretenders
6. Good Company (from Oliver and Company)
7. In My Life, The Beatles (No relation to this song, but there was always a lot of dancing in the kitchen . . . )

Based on the diminishing memories of the final songs on the tape, I suspect that I just started filling time because there was left-over space.  So Meg, Rach, Em, did I get anything wrong?  Did I forget some totally important lip-syncing anecdote?  Was I really as obnoxious about Titanic as I think I was?

Brain dump

In the last couple of years I have become increasingly sensitive to noise.  Right now Neal’s computer is making a high-pitched beep (in the middle of a long, slow death, no doubt) and I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin.  I can’t focus on anything else.  I’ve put on headphones and turned the music up as high as I can stand and I still feel like I’m hearing that %$& beep.  I don’t remember being like this just a few short years ago.  I also started getting migraines around the same time.  I also had a baby around the same time.  Coincidence?

Speaking of cursing, last night, in a brief fit of frustration, I yelled damnit.  I used to drop hells and damns periodically (keep it biblical, one of my teachers used to say) but I broke that habit quite a few years ago.  And then over the last month I’ve noticed that they’re creeping back into my mental vocabulary.  I’ve also been feeling terribly sick and tired over the last month, the worst spell I’ve had in more than a year.  Coincidence?

On the upside, when I woke up this morning, I had an email in my inbox from my credit union that read “April 21: Free document shredding, food, drinks, and family fun.”  I was disproportionately happy to find out that in a week and a half I could get free document shredding.  Hooray!!

Right now I’m listening to Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work.” (Can you tell that music video is from 1987?)  Hands down, one of the most emotional songs for me.  I get choked up almost every time, even though I’ve heard it a hundred times before.

I said yesterday that I wanted to write about teaching Relief Society this week, but as I started writing I realized that it was nearly impossible to communicate what I was trying to say without a lot of context.  Like 25 years of context.  So when I couldn’t sleep last night I wrote an outline of a sort of spiritual history.  I think I’ll have to work on that first, which feels like a worthy endeavor to record where I’ve been and where I’m at in a more big-picture way.

I’ve really been thinking along the lines of recording my personal history lately.  Our Relief Society has a monthly life writing class (hosted by this fabulous lady, a mentor of mine since my teens) that meets to talk about effective writing skills and read each others’ writings.  I had thought about going for awhile, but I always seemed to find out about it a day or two late.  I’m finally on the master email list and so I went last month (which is what prompted me to finally write about Oliver).  It was exhilarating to say the least.   We talked.  We laughed.  We cried (although I think I was the only one that elicited tissues from others — what can I say, I’m a weeper!).  I think it was one of the most enjoyable social events I’ve been to in this new locale.  I wouldn’t mind men being included (in fact, I would love for Neal to be involved in something like that) but I can see how having women-only probably creates a safer space for some.  I am just so moved by women writing their own stories.

The other reason I’ve been thinking so much about personal history is because my blogging friend Jessica (we do know each other in real life too, from an old ward, but never spent too much time together) is kind of writing hers on her blog.  She did a Dating Diaries series, and now she’s on to Fun with Friends.  I love reading what she’s written and every time I think, I should write about that too.  My memories are fading with each passing day (and having a child seems to have expedited the process).  Now is the time (even though it feels like there isn’t time, since we have this pesky little task of trying to build an income, the many over-60 ladies in the writing group assure me that now is the time!).  I’ve outlined a Dating Diaries-type series.  And I’m in the middle of a series on therapy.  And now I’ve got this spiritual history in progress.  And a piece for the next writing class on my physical appearance, which I’m pretty sure Rach will have to make an appearance in.  I’m excited to see what shakes out.  That’s one perk of being sick, but not too sick . . . if I stay in this state, more will “shake out” than if I get better and Neal has a legitimate beef over my neglect of our room.

Lindsay recommends: Thought of you

Not much time.  Final deadline this Saturday.  Extended from last Saturday.  Must get this project done or it might kill me.

But oh, what a lovely break this video provided:

If you like contemporary dance and/or The Weepies and/or beautiful things, you’ll love it.

Then this morning, I caught the behind the scenes here and was fascinated to watch a 35-week-pregnant choreographer dancing and planning the piece.  I’m not going to remind you what I was doing at 35 weeks pregnant, but it wasn’t that.

Baby recommends: DeStorm’s beatboxing

I get really happy (I mean, arm-flailingly happy) when I watch this video.  Which is ironic since the angst is palpable.

Happiness Project Wednesday: Identify a quick fix

Every Wednesday I’m recording how The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin has influenced my daily life.  To read my introductory post, click here.

Last night I woke up at 4:00am feeling horribly ill.  It wasn’t just a little nausea . . . I was so sick to my stomach that it made me hurt all over.*  In the hour and a half that I lay awake (thanks, Nikki, for helping me with the lay/lie issue) feeling quite miserable, I thought about quick fixes.  How do I get a quick hit of happiness to help me get through a seemingly unbearable time?

And you know what came to mind?  Jack Handey’s Deep Thoughts.  [Does this date me?]  As I ran through some of them in my mind, I really did get a boost of happiness.  I thought of this one first:

To me, it’s always a good idea to carry two sacks of something when you walk around.  That way, if anybody says, ‘Hey, can you give me a hand?’ you can say, ‘Sorry, got these sacks.’

and all the times that Neal and I have quickly picked up sacks when we knew the other was going to ask us for help with something.  Then I laughed out loud when I thought of my favorite:

To me, clowns aren’t funny. In fact, they’re kinda scary. I’ve wondered where this started, and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad.

Never gets old for me.

I sometimes give quick fixes a bad rap because I feel like as a culture we often defer the grander, in-depth changes that would make us better, happier, healthier people.  And I don’t want to defer doing the hard things merely because they’re hard.  But I’m also coming to see the value in these quick fixes, like listening to a favorite song, one of Gretchen’s preferred methods.

I’m starting to get more serious about identifying my quick fixes.  Jack Handey quotes.  “The Office.”  “I Love Lucy.”  And this song, which is one of my all-time favorites (and made all the better by this slightly bizarre, early-90s video, which I had never seen before):

What are your happiness quick fixes?

* I’m feeling much better this afternoon.  I found out that my cousin Emily had the same problem last night/today, which likely means it was food poisoning rather than a bug since we went out for a treat together last night.

Baby recommends: Keep breathing

I’ve loved Ingrid Michaelson ever since I was a little baby.  First, I thought “Winter Song” was the best, but lately I’m digging when my mom sings of idealism and human frailty in “Keep Breathing.”  The video is boring, but all the better to preserve the quiet angst.

Baby recommends: Wildcat

I love it when Daddy puts me to sleep with this Ratatat song, Wildcat.  He pats my back in time with the music and I slowly drift off to sleep, anthropomorphic animals running through my head.  That’s the best way, you know.

New sleep plan and musical exploration

On Thursday we talked with a veteran nurse who does well-baby checks in the community to see if she had any bright ideas for Addison’s sleep.  After two weeks and a recent night where she was awake from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. straight, it just didn’t seem that the pediatrician’s suggestions were working.  Luckily, she helped us come up with a new, three-fold plan:

1. cluster feed every two hours starting at 5:00 p.m. (so 5, 7, 9, and 11)
2. bug the heck out of her from 5 to 11 so that she can’t get into a deep sleep during that period
3. put her down for the night at 11:00 p.m. in the same place every night (she suggested a swing to help with her congestion and give her comforting movement)

Nurse Jane said that we have to do the exact same thing every night for 5 nights, and then switch it up if it’s not working.  Night 1 (the 18th) was pretty much the little miracle we’ve been looking for.  Are you ready for this??!! She slept from 10:30 – 1:00 and 3:45 – 9:00.  Not only that, but she didn’t eat from 1:30 until 9:00!  Neal was getting ready to feed her again when she drifted off to sleep and stayed asleep.  Hallelujah!

Night 2, which we are just wrapping up, she was back to her old shenanigans, not sleeping until 5:30 a.m.  But we’re undeterred.  Now we know she is capable of sleeping during the night, we’ve just got to stay the course.  I hate irritating her when she is so sleepy that she’s dozing off every two or three seconds, so last night I left it up to the men — Neal and Uncle Skylar.  They find this much more palatable as they simulate little baby boxing matchs with uppercuts and kidney punches.  She’s a natural, no?

***

I’ve been experimenting with music to see what Addison seems to enjoy.  I’ve tried some hymns, but she’s not a fan.  So far this is the hands-down favorite: Wintersong by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson.  When I turn it on and sing the lyrics in her ear, she is beyond serene.

I’ve tried a variety of Radiohead, mostly their mellower fare, but it just doesn’t do much for her.  She seems bothered by the obscurity of Thom Yorke’s metaphors (“‘He talks in maths, he buzzes like a fridge?’  What does that even MEAN?”).  The only exception is Neal’s personal anthem.  The first time I sang the words, “I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo…,” she did this:

It was a knowing smile.