You don’t have to be cool

I hate cliches. I hate bandwagons.  I hate soporific memes.

Yet I found myself listening to Kiss in the driveway last night and crying like a baby.  I have deep pockets of precious memories linked to Prince’s music.

My friend Heather and I used to share a walkman and headphones listening over and over and over and over again to the Sign O’ The Times cassette as we rode the bus to the hell that is junior high.  A lifeline for two chubby white girls, bracketing the misery of being 13 in a public institution.

In college, Prince was my secret joy.  Hopelessly nerdy and high-strung and often alone, I listened to Diamonds and Pearls. I might look like a white bread sandwich, but I knew I was funky.  I knew that my depths were more than people saw, and part of that persona was loving Prince.

In my 20s I had a friend who would quote lines from Purple Rain to me.  It was his Star Wars, his cultural touchstone.

That friend and I don’t speak anymore.  Prince is dead.  I am a blubbering white woman cliche.  But I know I am funky.

You don’t have to be beautiful
To turn me on
I just need your body baby
From dusk till dawn
You don’t need experience
To turn me out
You just leave it all up to me
I’m gonna show you what it’s all about

42 and Rambling

A staple of my latest schtick, for anyone who will stick around for my stand-up, is pondering whether my current love of life is genuine or a result of my anti-depressant.  I am not sure why it matters, good is good.  I am going with it.

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Yesterday was my 42nd birthday.  And it was fabulous.  I visited the museum, had a great dinner, and mastered French Knots.  The latter may seem trivial, but it isn’t.

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I have a baby quilt list that is very long (4!).  I need to get cracking on that, but I am transfixed with this weird embroidery project I have started.  I had one vision when I began, but it morphs as I work on it.  Right now I am striving for an abstract representation of Missouri Spring.  Lots of greens, lots of scrubbiness, a river, some purple trees.  It is transfixing me right now.

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Lots more to talk about as I get back into the swing of blogging.  I got accepted as a Museum Guide at the Nelson-Atkins, I have been trying to learn to meditate, to get behind the waterfall of my thoughts, and I am plotting all kinds of new quilts (in addition to those 4 baby quilts).  More on all of that later.

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It is spring in Missouri.  Blue skies (and Lexapro) ahead.