Wednesday, February 20, 2013

It Ain't Pretty...

Pretty Vegas is a song that has been on my mind lately.  I first heard it when auditioning guitar players in my vain, feeble attempt to keep my last band together.  When I say last, I guess it could have two meanings.  The first would be the latest band I was in.  The second, more profound meaning, would be that it was my last, final band.  Learn the song I did and have enjoyed playing along with it ever since.

The song produces a visceral, energetic response in me.  I need to dance when I hear it.  My favorite section of the song is when they break into the bridge, "The party's over and the road is long..."  The ride cymbal is prominent and talks to me, telling me there is rhythm in the world and to just go with the rhythm.  It certainly can't hurt anything.  Also, I listen to the lyrics.  The song picks up for me at the break, "The party's over and the road is long/The party's over and we're movin' on" reminds me of when I figured out I wasn't going to be a musician the rest of my life.  I wasn't that old and hadn't really prepared myself for any suitable long-term employment.  Day jobs came and went but music was pretty consistent.  Too bad I wasn't. That's ok now. I like where I am spiritually and wouldn't be who I am without it. Still, the song reminds us that you can get what you want if you do what you have to do to get it. "So If you think you want it/Just come in and get it/But it ain't pretty."  I think that's what we did as a generation.  I jokingly tell people my sixties lasted all the way to the eighties but it's no joke.  They did.  A lot of people did.  Then we woke up from a big party and the road was long.  We moved on.

Where did we end up?  Most of us had children, wives, husbands, partners, pals, business acquaintances, other unknowns who move in and out of our lives.  A striking thought occurred to me as I listened to this song on the way home from work tonight: This is the longest I have ever lived in Wenatchee in one stretch.  I lived in Wenatchee, grew up here, graduated from high school and hit the road when I was 18.  I came back sometimes for as long as a couple of years but never a stint like this.  At first it was the family, my family and my dad, his wife, Grace, and my mom were all in the valley.  My parents are dead and the kids are grown and gone.  The only Lynch by blood left in Wenatchee is me.  My step mother is a Lynch by marriage but she's all I have as far as a mother goes.

When it hit me, I was driving, and I had to do the math.  I don't do math so I just used my memory.  It worked this time.  I've been living in this valley for twenty one consecutive years.  It just might be time to do something else.  Wonder what it would be like if I had a job where I wasn't in front of people all the time?  Geez, I suppose that insipid need to be the center of attention would find other ways to manifest.  I'm probably better off working my routine in front of the classroom.

I have been thinking of moving on, possibly trying something different.  I have no idea what that would look like or might be.  The will is there.  The means have yet to become apparent.  It would have to be a good fit as the job I have is pretty hard to beat.  I can always teach somewhere, I suppose.  English teachers in korea make dollar.  In fact, Korean teachers are the highest paid in the world.  The world seems to ignore Korea.  When you look at the map it looks like it is the epiglottis of China.  North Korea gets all the press while Korea plugs along, making good cars and good cell phones.  Even sponsored classes I have taken on East Asian history tend to favor the Chinese and Japanese of the Koreans.  Korean potters taught the Chines and Japanese potters their craft (hobby, whatever...) Koreans craftspeople were kidnapped by the Japanese Emporer's army and brought back to make foods for the Emperor and his buddies.  Hey! I have a passport that has not one stamp in it.

Ramble, ramble ramble...I did my tax return today.  If I don't get raked over the coals, I should be able to pay for this frikkin computer.

Today is my father's 87th birthday.  He's been dead for a while but I though of him today.  I don't usually.  Maybe he's thinking of me, too.

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