Life At Full Throttle

I find it amazing how music tags me back to life memories.

Music.

I’ve recently become aware of an interesting phenomenon about the musical interests of the men I’ve dated. (Yes, this is precisely what I do with my downtime, analyze, which is a step up from doing long division in my head in on the way home to watch the Flintstones for lunch. I digress. Entirely too much information).

Here it goes. Each man has had a very distinct, yet very dedicated taste in music. The roll call goes something like this:

Top 40 "80’s stuff" – this includes all the Wham, Foreigner, Chicago, Madonna etc that you can fill you boots with. "Our Song" was Lady In Red and The Proclaimers had us singing along on one of our many road trips.
Pop (keyboard haven) – Platinum Blonde, Depeche Mode, Eye Eye, Duran Duran, New Order, Glass Tiger, Honeymoon Suite…and so on...and so on...X was a HUGE pop fan – all his collection was comprised of actually (I couldn’t believe the narrowness yet vastness of his musical scope back then). With this came all the indy and local stuff too.
Reggae / Jazz – Marley, Marley, Marley and more Marley with an open buffet of Jazz so that no man, woman nor beast would ever go hungry again. Joshua Tree (the location) is etched in time.
Rock – You name it, it was there. This guy had actually developed, created, financed and marketed the coolest unique CD organization system.
Country – This exposure had me pulling on some deep musical roots and revisiting places I thought I had permanently turned away from.

Each one of those genres of music can be tied back to a specific time or event in my life. Be it high school, venturing out, death of a couple of close friends, liberating myself, loving myself, sifting through my past, remembering my family & my past.

The net result is that I realize that with the exception of The Beatles (and *perhaps* although unlikely... the Eurythmics, The Dan Reid Network and I Mother Earth/Edwin, BIG SUGAR & TRHCP) I am a musical orphan. Which means The Beatles are the only band that I feel like I truly adored and “arrived” to on my own.The country stuff was always on on the radio at home and in the truck (that's my dad). The only other musical exposure I rec’d was from my brother which looked something like Judas Priest, Pink Floyd, Meatloaf, The Who, Ozzy, Black Sabbath, Zeppelin and so on….If it weren't for those LP's, it was the radio, country or Elvis!

It was around that time that tossed The Osmond’s tape my mom gave me for Christmas and bought my first single. (:-D!) Eric Clapton’s Cocaine A side, B side escapes me right now – but it equally ROCKED. Shortly after my first real crush died in a car accident, I embraced the Beatles more tightly than before and as I wrote out lyrics and lined my locker as a tribute to my friend, music had found a special place in my heart that was with me while I grieved ~ alone. No grief counsellors at school back then! Shortly after, it was announced that John Lennon was killed and up went his picture over my bed.

After my first LP, The White Album, further down the road I acquired some Foreigner, Chicago, Cyndi Lauper, but nothing ground breaking until the U2 Revolution that occurred during my solo trip to British Columbia after graduating college. Next to David Suzuki, Bono being perhaps one of the only other famous people that come to mind I'd like to eat diner with...

Today, I find myself floating in a sea of a musical identity crisis. What a fun place to be…I’m always up for a good challenge. In this case, to coax out that shy, introverted me that prefers to stay hidden in the shadows where it’s safe.

This is, the taste test of a life time!

Canada, this is your area of expertise, any suggestions to help me find my musical identity?



Thanks to Dave for aiding in my pursuit of musical happiness with his introduction to Last.fm.

GAY THEY'RE ALL GAY!!!!

From time to time I invite Omar's dad for supper or send him home something frozen or we do "family night" or he'll treat for breakfast after hockey. Tonight I invited him to come skating with Omar and I. Omar loves these nights. While the little one skated around The Rock Star and I yakked about his boyfriend and his family's reaction to him "coming out" six months ago as well as his feelings surrounding it. While he does things from time to time that frustrate the hell out of me, we're both pretty lucky not to have lost "the friendship". We had a good laugh about one of the many nights at the clubs....So many nights at clubs.....So many musicians......So much time...So many memories!

I told him that I think The Ogre might have been gay too - no other explaination really.

I'm convinced. They're all gay.

I need Chocolate.

Lots of Chocolate.

Kill A Deer, You'll Feel Better

I hate everybody today. Everybody accept my dad.

Sometimes the only person a girl can count on is her daddy.

I miss mine. A LOT.

Dad left a message on my machine - killed two deer (he's at hunt camp obviously). Save the killing Bambi speach, the man loves to hunt, you don't pick your family and unless you're a vegan...Well, just save it, I hate everything today too. Killing a deer might just make me feel better. Well, no, it actually wouldn't but shooting something might.

Did I mention I hate everybody? Accept if you're reading this, then you are excused from my chamber of HATE.

Off the topic of HATE for a moment, well, sort of, but not at all really. I understand there is a white peace poppy out right now. The vets are po'd calling the white poppies a disservice and a dishonour to the fallen dead, but the activists say the poppy's can "co-exist".

Something about it doesn't sit well with me. I'm not sure if it's the blatant lack of respect towards those that fought, the copyright infringement or the issue of timing. Maybe November 11th needs to be sacred. Or maybe, just maybe we need to make room for peace. It's bold, I'll be the mastermind and state the obvious. But who wants to piss of a frickin' veteran? Dumb asses.

Turn Your Head

Omar's fever and cough turned out to be pneumonia.

You know, it's weird. I'm watching "pretty boy" Mike Fisher
talk about his faith and how his mom would remind him when he was injured and bummed about missing a game that God doesn't make mistakes.

Well you know what? I think hiss mom new what she was talking about.

On Saturday I took Omar to the Drug Store and had a pharmacist help me pick out the right cough medicine for him. It wasn't until we got home, put our PJ's on and were ready for bed that I discovered that we were given ADULT cough medicine. I also noticed he had a raspy – gurgly - wheezy sound after coughing. I gave him a shot of my asthma pump just in case, he didn't get any better, nor did he get any worse.

The following day I went to purchase the correct children's cough medicine and mentioned the slight wheezing sound I noticed the night before when administering a half dose of the adult medicine (which just about turned Omar inside out - a face I'll not soon forget - menthol and a seven year old don't mix). Anyhoo, this second visit to the Pharmacy gave us the opportunity to get more advice about his condition and it was recommended that if the gurgly / wheezy sound returned, to bring him to the doctor to get it checked.

Sure enough, same time the following night, coughing began and the raspy- wheezy -gurgly sound...Fast forward to the chest x-ray and there it was, a large opaque area on his right lung, just where the doctor heard it.

He's on antibiotics now, grandma watched him today and he's doing alright - but the cough is pretty bad. I'll have him sleep with me again tonight so I can keep an ear on him.