Thursday, 27 June 2019

"Music has healing power". Elton John

I love music, and I have always loved singing.  As a young Catholic person, I was always in the choir at church, and as a slightly older person wanting to be noticed, I sang at the Teen Club I belonged to.  One of my most joyful memories is wrapped around a day at the convent school I went to when the nun who was the Music Mother came round our class and asked each of us to sing a few chords.  When it was my turn, she actually jumped.  I was "person of the day" in my class that day.

The year I was 32, I was still in a church choir, sang for my kids, always got up in Karaoke bars and over the Christmas holidays I did so much singing that I "lost" my voice.  I was moving my kids, leaving my first husband and living with an uncle and his family, and I just never did anything about recovering.

I told myself that I still had my voice, but I couldn't manage it very well anymore, and while my love for music still stuck with me, I seldom sang along. 

Then this: I was walking home yesterday and had come to a place in the park where I was all alone, singing (in my head) a song from The Civil Wars, a duo I really love, and I started to sing aloud.  It was so wrong. It wasn't me, and it certainly was not what the Civil Wars had sung.

I have to do one of two things: get involved through YouTube in a process to regain your voice (although I don't think it's aimed at someone whose voice got lost 45 years ago) or resign myself to being a former singer.

I'm just not sure I can deal with failing, if I choose to regain my voice.  And I'm not sure I can deal with doing nothing now that I've made myself think about it.  Maybe I'll accept that music has healing power and give it a try by using others' music to help the healing if I can't regain it.  Thanks, Elton.

Wednesday, 26 June 2019

Some things I wish I hadn't done today

In no particular order:

  • got up at 4 a.m. and decided the day was beginning
  • therefore ate my breakfast at 4:10 a.m.
  • managed with a great deal of pain to take off the rings I should have taken off last night, then washed, brushed my teeth and put the rings back on
  • promised myself to deal with all the books that weren't in a more-or-less alphabetical space on the bookshelves
  • spent time trying to find why in hell I had a book called "The Friday Night Knitting Club, a novel"
  • decided that even though the forecast said we'd reach 30 degrees Celsius by noon, I was wearing black clothes to the Market
  • tried on about 40 hats and bought none
  • got a sunburn on that 4 inches of skin between my neck and my shirt, which would have been covered had I bought a hat with a brim
  • fell asleep in the afternoon, which only happens about 5 times a year, two of which were this week
  • later, forgot I'd put on my pyjamas and went out on the patio to talk to Dave, an act which took place just as all our neighbours were coming home from work
  • read an article outlining why it's OK not to wear a bra, then found it was aimed at people who didn't need them in the first place
There's only a few hours left until bedtime, so I'm feeling like things might just be OK and Dave and I can watch season 2 of the Emmy-awarded series we were watching last night.  Another thing I wish I hadn't done today is forgetting the name of that wonderful entertainment. Damn!

Tuesday, 25 June 2019

Babble, babble

Well, I haven't written a blog in several months, and I was kind of nervous about how I would re-start.  Little did I know.

First of all, I had totally forgotten how to make a blog post.  Really, I'd been writing blogs for about 15 years and I should have been able to get down to business with my eyes closed.  I found I was not, eyes closed or not, so I asked Google how do I get to my blog? only to find out that you had to know the name  of your blog. I've been having difficulties remembering all kinds of things, so I went back to Google and wrote "where is my blag?".  Not surprisingly, Google didn't know where to take me.

I decided that throwing my laptop across the room would not really do anything other than give me short-term pleasure, so I went back to Google and wrote "show me Lorna in Wonderland".  That took me back to to my blog in 2015, but it was my blog, and I ended up reading about 15 of my posts from the good old days, which led me back and forth between satisfaction and dread.

Long story short, I discovered that I had changed the owner name from Lorna to Resurfaced Blagher, which no longer seemed amusing to me.  Nonetheless, I am now able to write, foolishly or otherwise, in "Still in Wonderland" which I have now accomplished.