At a time in our country when facts are alternative and grabbing women by the p***y without consent is acceptable, standing in line to meet Margaret Atwood has become important.
Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid’s Tale, signed my copy at UntitledTown Book and Author Festival in Green Bay.
I see my chiropractor for an adjustment every other month or so to keep my migraines at bay, and we spent the 15 minutes with the usual small talk. But he is one of the lucky ones with an excellent memory who remembers specific details from our last conversation.
“Didn’t you mention that you were writing a book? How is it coming along?”
“What’s the novel about?”
“What other stories do you write?”
Right before Christmas I finally checked my mailbox and found a holiday greetings card from his office, and you’ll never guess what it said:
At least I know I can count on my chiropractor to hold me accountable for writing my book!
I’ve always been a little jealous of artistic people whose aesthetics are as creative as their minds. You know the ones … edgy make up, multicolored hair, layered outfits that shouldn’t look as fabulous off the hanger as it does. I see them as walking advertisements for their creative brand.
My hair is my thing. It’s always been long, frizzy, curly and out of control. There have been so many times that I wanted to do something crazy like chop it off or bleach it blonde, but I never had the guts. Even going to a medium cut left me craving for my long hair again.
But this year sucked, you guys, so I decided I was done wishing and daydreaming. It was my turn to advertise the colorful, crazy ideas floating around in my head.
And so it began …
First, I bleached my tips. Yes, I actually let bleach touch my hair for a solid 50 minutes.
And then came the purple and blue tips …
… brought back the bangs.
Then it was time to straighten and style.
Thank you to my friend who Photoshopped this creepy photo of me into Harley Quinn. Guess I know who I’ll be for Halloween next year!
The older I get, the more I listen to Joni Mitchell.
The more I listen to Joni Mitchell, the more I realize don’t know what I thought I knew.
* * *
Here are two different versions of Both Sides Now to fit whatever type of mood you’re in today.
“Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air
and feather canyons everywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone.
So many things I would have done but clouds got in my way.
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now,
from up and down, and still somehow
it’s cloud illusions I recall.
I really don’t know clouds at all.
Moons and Junes and ferris wheels, the dizzy dancing way that you feel
as every fairy tale comes real; I’ve looked at love that way.
But now it’s just another show. You leave ’em laughing when you go
and if you care, don’t let them know, don’t give yourself away.
I’ve looked at love from both sides now,
from give and take, and still somehow
it’s love’s illusions that I recall.
I really don’t know love at all.
Tears and fears and feeling proud, to say “I love you” right out loud,
dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I’ve looked at life that way.
But now old friends are acting strange, they shake their heads, they say
I’ve changed.
Something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now,
from win and lose, and still somehow
it’s life’s illusions I recall.
I really don’t know life at all.”
Today felt like I’d lost an old friend. One that you no longer speak with, but still have memories surface every time you listen to a nostalgic tune. David Bowie has been popping up a lot lately in my life, which has made it all the more strange that he passed away.
Jan. 10 was a day, eight years ago now, of a funeral. It was a day that rattled me like a caged bird. And now in 2016, there was another death on Jan. 10. This time of a rockstar that linked me back to those days leading up to that moment. Only grieving for David Bowie ended up being, in a sense, therapeutic.
Before I turned in for the night, I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s post:
I watched his goodbye message to his fans in the form of a music video.
“Look up here, I’m in heaven I’ve got scars that can’t be seen I’ve got drama, can’t be stolen Everybody knows me now
…
This way or no way You know, I’ll be free Just like that bluebird Now ain’t that just like me”
– David Bowie
* * *
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will (which I now exert to leave you).” – Jane Eyre
I don’t want to wait anymore I’m tired of looking for answers
Take me some place where there’s music and there’s laughter
I don’t know if I’m scared of dying but I’m scared of living too fast, too slow
Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I’ve got to go
There’s no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on
And you’ve just gotta keep on keeping on
Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road
Can’t worry ’bout what’s behind you or what’s coming for you further up the road
I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong
I try to keep on keeping on
Yeah I just keep on keeping on
I hear a voice calling
Calling out for me
These shackles I’ve made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won’t take the easy road
I’ve woken up in a hotel room, my worries as big as the moon
Having no idea who or what or where I am
Something good comes with the bad
A song’s never just sad
There’s hope, there’s a silver lining
Show me my silver lining
Show me my silver lining
I hear a voice calling
Calling out for me
These shackles I’ve made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won’t take the easy road
I won’t take the easy road
The easy road, the easy road
I won’t take the easy road
The easy road, the easy road
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
