Sum up your life in six … songs.
Not what you thought I was going to say, was it? I’ve accepted a challenge for today to tell the story of my life in six songs. So not easy. I scrutinized my Pandora station, imploring a higher authority to lay the six songs out for me.
The results appear today at Running on Sober. Come check it out.
We got the chance to toss in a seventh song to encapsulate it all. This was the toughest choice by far. What would your seventh song be? Please tell me, in your comments here on the CD. And if you venture there, please let me know what you think of my list.
It’s all kind of … revealing, I think. Vulnerable.
Also, I will take a vacation next week.Not to a deserted LEGO island to fish.
She’ll answer with questions real-life diva Scarlet poses to her.
Why am I doing this?
Every month, I purge my email folders of anything more than a year old. It also gives me a glance back at where I was a year ago, what was important, and what lay ahead. I saw wonderful things on my horizon then.
I saw excellence in my day job. I saw friendships in early bloom. I saw a blog in the first stages of becoming what I never imagined it could.
I also saw life, verve. Confidence, and panache. So many other ways to describe what I saw, but there was a light there that has since dimmed. No, life isn’t in the dark for me. But there is a luster, a sluggishness to what once roared. And I rode its crest.
I will find it again.
I will fight like hell to find it again.
It’s been a sneaky luster, like unpolished brass or a garden that hasn’t been cultivated. To grow, you must cultivate. To shine, you must polish. I’ve done neither. Barnacles and viscosity have taken a toll, so deftly I’d never have noticed without the look behind.
I love this and I love you far too much to do nothing about it.
You’re in capable hands this week. So many of you are loves. Others of you are such hard likes it feels and looks like love from up above.
My friends will dig their shovels in and play Coach Daddy for a day. And all week, I’ll check in on my smartphone, read and answer your comments, and miss you like mad.
This isn’t the beginning of the end. I love this too much for that. This is a preemptive strike, a time out to enforce my gameplan. Nothing will change in my process. It works. But even C-3PO needed an oil dip now and again, didn’t he?
I hope the time away, just a week, can recharge me. I’ll be here, not far.
Walking the fairway on a tranquil morning on the disc golf course. At lunch, with a cubano sandwich and Hemingway book. In the yard, playing catch with my kids. And when my phone chimes that I have a comment, I’ll read your words. And give you mine. Like always.
When I see you again, I hope you’ll notice.
Notice I have a bit of the charisma back, that vigor and dare I say swagger that helped keep you here in the first place.
That made you my friend.
I love it when you meet me here.
See you in a week.