Theme Song

Music speaks to me. It makes me reflect on my life and certain people in my life have their own song. Anytime it comes on the radio, my thoughts immediately flutter back to that simpler time.

I didn't have a boyfriend in high school but I did have a good friend who happened to be a boy. His parents were always so nice to me and constantly thanked me for being their son's friend. I couldn't help but feel good loved and welcomed. He didn't always make the best decisions, but he tried and that's what counted. He was one of the few people that helped me celebrate my 16th birthday. He came over at Thanksgiving and fit in like one of the family. He was my best friend. So every time I hear this song, I think fondly of him.

I will admit I loved those silly Facebook games of discovering the soundtrack to your life. I really liked it when the songs fit the category, I didn't like it so much when it didn't match up. Sometimes I wish that I had a soundtrack to smile and cry to.

Although, every time I hear this song, it reminds of a boy that I did date for a brief moment.

I wasn't exactly sure what it meant to him that I reminded him of this song, especially since a few weeks later, it fizzled out.

But the boy that stole my heart and made me a wife and mother has too many songs that remind me of him. But the one that makes my toes curl and my heart fly is this classic:

The first time that we ever danced to this song, was in front of my house. He was dropping me off from a date and this song came on the radio. He parked the car, but instead of turning off the car, he turned up the radio. He escorted me from the car and without light but the headlights, we held each other and swayed.

I had read about two characters who shared the same experience and thought that was the most romantic thing I'd ever read. I had never told the husband about this dream of mine. He just knew somehow and made it true for me. 

Music is powerful and seeded with memories.


What's your favorite song? The one that makes you happy every time you hear it?

~Lady Jane

Catharsis

Writing really is cathartic for me.  I find that I work through my problems so much better when I've written about them. It's the release that I need to move on to the next chapter. I'm gonna get pretty personal for this post, so if you'd rather read fluff, wait until next time.

I've recently suffered a loss. Two losses actually. My grandmother passed away. A wonderful, service-oriented, bubbly, caring, cheerful, lovely woman. She wrote music and played the piano masterfully. Every time I play one of her arrangements of music, I feel her near me (even before she passed away), her soul is in music. This is how I will always remember her: forever connected to the piano.

I had a miscarriage. The hubs and I were really looking forward to having another little bundle in our home to love and hold, but twas not to be. I don't think that we'll be a single-child family, but if that is to be the case. I have an awesome little man to be grateful for! I mean look at that face, who couldn't love that? 

When I first found out that we weren't going to be having another baby, it was terrible! I cried all the time at the drop of a hat and was mad at every pregnant woman I knew or didn't know for that matter. But after I went in for a procedure, it was like the last punctuation had been placed on the last page and I could turn it and move on.

So that is what I'm doing, moving on. Due to the recent events, I'm no longer working as a vocal coach. My boss felt that I should take this time to heal and we were nearly done with the season anyway. I thought that was very sympathetic of her. I am looking forward to real meal planning again and just being able to use my time the way I want to.

Until next time,

Lady Jane

On the Brain

I think my brain is empty. I've had so many things on my mind lately that I don't even know what to post at the moment. BAM! It just hit me. I could talk about my upcoming tea party I'm planning for my 28th birthday with my two cousins and their cousin from their mom's side and my good friend Danny.

Why tea party? Because they're fun. I'm hoping to recreate as much as I can remember about my 8th birthday tea party. I know that we wore Sunday dresses, costume jewelry, hats and faux fur shawls. And we felt like princesses. At least I did. My other aunt was generous enough to send down her collection of hats, jewelry and faux furs that I'm hoping she might let me borrow what she has left.

I am beyond looking forward to this! A couple of years ago, I had mentioned this idea to the original party guests and they all said they were excited to do it again for my 28th. I was worried when one of my cousins moved out of the country, but was immediately relieved when I found out she was coming for a visit. Who cares if it's not on my actual birthday, I'm just glad the original group (plus Danny) will all be here to join in on the fun. So stayed tuned for some fabulous how-tos from me about pulling off a smashing tea party!

Also on the horizon: I love to sing, so I'm going to work on my craft this summer by joining a choir. I'm stoked!

What do you have planned for the summer?

~ Lady Jane

Complexity is My Middle Name

I decided it was about time to get back to my original purpose for this blog and considering all of the events going on in my life that I cannot change, becoming a better writer is one thing I have control over.

"Where do you come from, who are you, what makes you?" One of the best questions posed by Goldberg to help the budding writer within.

The most obvious answer would be to expound upon my upbringing (which I have done a lot of) mention the skills/talents I have and hobbies I enjoy. BORING! So I will try and make it a little less boring.

I come from seekers and believers:

Not too long ago, I filled out a Mormon.org profile and one of the questions I answered was why I was Mormon. I think it's because my family is. It's in my blood. My 3x great grandfather was the first to become a Mormon, he sought after truth and believed. I owe him immensely for the knowledge I have because he looked for answers to his questions.

I come from music:

My grandmother is an amazing pianist! She lived next to me for nineteen years and when I say next to me I mean next to. I could get to her house through our garage. So I would often drop by and listen to her play the piano. Two of my older sisters also played the piano; music filled our house often and sometimes to the dismay of anyone in the house wanting to watch t.v.

I come from laughter:

My dad has the wackiest sense of humor, which I luckily possess a little bit of. He claims it was his mother's father that passed it down to him. I love to hear the laughter of my family and I get to hear it a lot.

I am Cowardice/Heroism/Peace/Contention/Love/Self-Loathing:

I am a complex woman. I am sometimes too afraid to confront a problem and other times, a raging bull out of the gate. I just wish I knew how to be bull when I'm a lamb. And with that cowardice and heroism, I am a blend of peace and contention. I don't like contention, avoid it at all costs and when I should be a peacemaker, I'm too afraid to mediate. I am freely giving of compliments, but not to myself, afraid of becoming narcissistic or egocentric. I'm also noticing a pattern here. Do you see it? I think my cowardly side trumps my heroic side by a long shot!

So, "where do you come from, who are you, what makes you?"

~ Lady Jane

Working Through the Book

Now that I feel that I have thoroughly exhaled with my previous posts I can now begin my journey of working through the book, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within. In the introduction Goldberg explains ultimately what her book is about as well as what it might help the reader to accomplish. Two of my favorite lines are, "This book is about writing. It is also about using writing as your practice, as a way to help you penetrate your life and become sane." Who wouldn't want that? And, "To do writing practice means to deal ultimately with your whole life." Sounds pretty profound right? Doesn't have to be. The exhilarating aspect of writing for me is that I can confront my fears, disillusions, fantasies, regrets, aspirations and many more parts of my life that need a little tweaking or fresh perspective.

I love music and so I'm often reminded while I write, a song that also conveys my thoughts. In reference to perspective a line from "Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen". I can't believe how in one song there are so many good mantras to live by. If only all songs could be that inspiring. "Advice is a form of nostalgia; dispensing it is a way of wishing the past from the disposal-wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth."

How many times have we given or gotten advice? I remember a story about my Papa and advice. He said something to the effect of, "When somebody gives you advice. Just nod your head and do as you please." This sounds completely contradictory to what I just copied from that song, but in reflecting about what my Papa said, sometimes your gut is your best advice.

When I Think of Home...

Due to my incomparable upbringing, I have always had an active imagination. I grew up in the same house for nineteen years, I had freedom to roam our expansive three and a quarter acre lot with trees, grass, our cats and friends. Many nights were spent gazing up at the stars on the trampoline. Running, climbing, and eating filled my days. My paternal grandfather, who I call Papa, planted fruit trees in the backyard. For seven years at least, my cousins and I enjoyed picking the ripe plums, apricots, and pears. Our saliva, sufficient enough to clean them allowed us to move onto our next adventure.

Even when I was a little girl, I dreamed of bringing my children to the home I grew up in to play on the swing set in the backyard, to show them that with enough sweat they could climb the walls with their feet, slide down the stairs on an old mattress or fall asleep on the living room couch as the din of family chatter in the kitchen wafted through the house.

My dream came to an end in 2006. I had no children yet and my parents were being forced out to rebuild a dying company that my father had put his life into. No longer can I bring my children to that home to see their Gigi and Papa and play with cousins uninterrupted in the basement, play a round of 9-hole golf around the house or come over for Sunday dinners.

I hate it when people say, "Let it go" or "It was a long time ago", that doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't make feel any better to believe that my parents are giving another family the opportunity to make memories in that house too. As childish as this sounds, it was my house first!

The song, "Our House" by Madness, perfectly illustrates the kind of home I had. Needless to say it has become our anthem for my family. We even used it on a video montage for a family reunion.

Father wears his Sunday best

Mother's tired she needs a rest

The kids are playing up downstairs

Sister's sighing in her sleep

Brother's got a date to keep

He can't hang around

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Our house it has a crowd

There's always something happening

And it's usually quite loud

Our mum she's so house-proud

Nothing ever slows her down

And a mess is not allowed

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Something tells you that you've got to get away from it

Father gets up late for work

Mother has to iron his shirt

Then she sends the kids to school

Sees them off with a small kiss

She's the one they're going to miss

In lots of ways

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

I remember way back then when everything was true and when

We would have a very good time such a fine time

Such a happy time

And I remember how we'd play simply wasted the day away

Then we'd say nothing would come between us two dreamers

Father wears his Sunday best

Mother's tired she needs a rest

The kids are playing up downstairs

Sister's sighing in her sleep

Brother's got a date to keep

He can't hang around

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our street

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Our house, was our castle and our keep

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, that was where we used to sleep

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle of our street

I loved my house, still do to this day. I've even thought of knocking on the door just to ask if I could look around. I wonder what stories my house would tell me since my family's been gone? Don't you wish if you just pressed your ear up against the walls hard enough you could hear everything the house has been through?