Thanksgiving Pheonix.

(A post-script as a pre-script... I don't really go back and edit these, but... enjoy!)

Good Lord.

It's been a while.  Welcome back.  Hope your journeys have been fulfilling and enlightening.

Good Lord, mine have.


Wee... how scary a blank piece of paper is.

In my awesome and wonderful songwriting class, our teacher has been giving us tons of ways to deal with a blank piece of paper... different ways of thinking, tricks to get your mind out of blocks, random assigning of chords...

but it's still a little scary now and then.

The great unknown.

I'm discovering just how painful writing can be.

Say the wrong words, take them in the wrong context... you start wars.

But with the right words you can heal, teach, educate, and enrich.

My first outlet was with words.

Music came second.

And today I remember this.


So, it's Thanksgiving.  A time to reflect.  A time to be thankful.  A time to be still.

Stillness is something I have been HORRIBLE at, up until my 30th birthday.

When you move around all the time - you never stop.  Stopping is good.  One must rest, one must heal, one must listen, one must be still.

If you're not still you (or at least me) find yourself adapting to all sorts of bizarre things.  Humans were not meant to spend hours upon hours in a car.  It's not organic.  It's not normal.  It's too fast.

You loose yourself to the running.  You loose yourself to the speed.  You don't think anymore, you just do.  Reactionary.  Impulsive.  Rash.  Not thinking.  Doing.

And when I realized all that, I came crashing down.  HARD.

Turning 30 was catastrophic for me.

I discovered I'd been running since I turned 21.  Running away from home, running away from anyone and everything.  Being the rebel.  Not listening.  Just doing.  Act first, and pick up the pieces later.

When you run, you can't think straight.  You're only worried about getting to point B and yourself.

But you're not really worried about yourself.  You become a machine.  Throw a bunch of stuff in your car so you won't forget anything, start the engine, throw on a CD, and loose yourself to the road.

Yes, yes, yes.  That can be good.

SOMETIMES.

The weeks before my birthday, I'm thinking...

"Oh my God.  My 20's!  I haven't done enough!  I must run more!  I must do more crazy stuff!"

Then one day, your worst nightmare comes true.

You're 30.

Your twenties!  They're gone!  Holy shit!  What are you going to do?!

Well, for me it was sit in a car, cry my eyeballs out, and basically act like a selfish idiot.  Wanting to cry out for help, but not knowing what to say, how to say, or even what the hell to ask for.  Needless to say, I am thankful that I have the support system I have that allowed me to go through that nonsense with some dignity.

Apparently this kind of break down is a normal thing for people that have a nasty habit of always moving around.

Moving around started for me as a child.

We moved at least every couple of years.  The first two moves are pretty devastating, but then you get used to it.  Leave things in boxes, knowing that they'll have to be re-moved eventually.

Moving didn't stop in college.

Every year?  A different place.

That's a good thing, right?  Sure!  Adaptation is a wonderful trait.

And then I turned 30.

I realized pretty quickly that my 20's were not all they were cut out to be.  Graduated college.  (That was good.) I had a ridiculous amount of fun playing in bands, touring the United States and Europe, making tons of new friends, and basically being ridiculous.

But... what did I do?

Sure, yes... "I had a ridiculous amount of fun playing in bands, touring the United States and Europe, making tons of new friends, and basically being ridiculous."

But what did I do?  What deeply mattered?

Graduating.  Teaching.  Owning my own business.  Making people happy through music.  Making good life-long friends.   Helping to raise a little boy.  Watching my students grow and become amazing adults.

That's what mattered.

Not the fact that at one point I could drink half a bottle of Jameson without batting an eye.  Stay up late singing songs till my fingers bled.  Getting attention I never had before as an awkward teenager.  Driving all over creation always operating on half-awake status.

I hear that's how they do torture.  They keep you half awake and delusional.

I can hear you.  "Yeah, sure, that's great... what does this have to do with 'Thanksgiving Peonix?'"

Easy.

I finally had a chance to stop these past few days.

Park my car, and not move it for a while.

From 23 to 30, I had been making some really bad decisions in between some really good decisions.  These past few months leading up to 30, I felt as if I had become a fireball burning out of control.  Mass destruction.  Everything coming to a fiery end.

I guess Billie Feather had to do with with as much gusto as humanely possible.

And this led to a cold night with me crying in my Loretta.  Not even knowing what to feel or how to feel it.  Taking it out on everyone.  Completely and utterly selfish.

But that's your 20's, eh?

And what happened?  Somehow one of the most amazing men in the universe managed to get me back into the house, to eat a piece of wonderful birthday cake, and start to calm the hell down.

The burning was stopping.  The ashes were beginning to gather.

Since October 24th, the embers have grown cold.  I have a rather lovely pile of mess at my feet.

And now, here, in my middle school/high school bedroom, I feel like a tiny baby bird.

Weak.  Small.  With big glossy eyes.  Alone.  Defenseless.

Which causes one to look inward.

Who is Billie?

What does she want?

You've crashed, you've burned, you've raised all hell, you've done it all that any self-respecting rebel would and could do...

But now what?

And here I am.  Back to where I began.  With words.

A tiny baby bird with her words.

A much smarter, more together bird, but a tiny bird.  Fresh from the flames.

I like the phoenix idea.  I like rebirth.  Welcome to half of my cusp... the Scorpio.

Everyone has something they attach to.  An element, a symbol, a movie character...

Mine's a fire bird.

I am weak.  I have damaged myself.  I have ruined things I hold dear.

But!  In these past few days of stillness, I am healing.  Raising from ashes.  Learning to love myself and to recognize what it is that drives me.  What makes my heart skip a beat.  What makes my pulse race.

I decided to start looking back at the beginning and what made me happy as a little girl.

Writing.  Dancing around the room to music.  Strumming on my guitar.  Watching the sunlight through the windows.  Cowboy boots.  Quilts.  Performing on a stage.  Making people happy.

As easily as I can navigate social situations, I'm an introvert.  Maybe I'd been fighting that.

But, I like being still.  It's nice.

Sure, I enjoy movement.

But, after burning, you become a little more cautious.

You value things more.

Images burn.  They can't sustain.  Strong foundations and strong buildings do not burn.  They stand the test of time.

So, here I am, finding my foundation.

A tiny bird, learning to use the legs she burned up.

Accepting that I am going to be weak for a while, until I learn and earn the right to use my wings.  To watch.  To listen.  To help others.

I am not a cartoon character from the realms of some dark honky tonk.

I am a girl born in the mountains of Pennsylvania in a mobile home.  Raised surrounded by love, family, and wild open woods.  My head reluctantly filled with values and morals.  Lessons on how not to lie, and how to treat others as you wish to be treated.  To nurture.  To help others and things grow.  Because when you don't have a lot, you value what you do have.  You work for it.  You work on it.

I am girl who loves country music from when I lived in Knoxville, Tennessee.  I started my first country band in the 4th grade.  (True story - we played the heck out of some pre-recorded Diamond Rio) It's in the water over there, I promise.  :)

I am a girl who loved turning her amp up to 11, cranking the drive as loud as it would go, dressing in goth makeup, and playing punk rock.  Learning how to wrangle a guitar much like you learn to wrangle a bull (I'm pretty darn good at mechanical bulls, by the way) and laughing the whole time.

I am girl who loved running through the woods with her friends in Granite Quarry, making up new trails and paths on my bike.

I am a classically trained guitarist, who worked her tail off to get her degree.  I remember that awesome feeling when I got my piece of paper and thinking "If I can do this, I can do anything."

But... what are you now, little bird?

I'm a student.  I'm back in school to be a teacher.  To enrich others lives.  To help them find happiness.  I repair instruments, bring them back to life so someone else can find their joy.  I'm no longer the bar fly (yes, I still love whiskey, bourbon, good beer, and the occasional gin and tonic AND LORD KNOWS I love a good jukebox).  I no longer want to stay up until 6 am till my fingers bleed.  I don't need a scene, newspaper, or anyone else to justify or explain my musical endeavors or myself.  I am a musician, and I love the music I play.  I only play music I love, with people I love.  I don't have tattoos because I'm too busy paying off my musical instruments.  (Not that I don't want one, or that I don't have a design that I've been sitting on for years...)  I don't have the deepest southern drawl (although I've been south of the mason-dixon line since I was four).  I have a military jacket with patches on it because I couldn't afford a bad ass punk rock motorcycle jacket when I was a teenager.  I like sweaters and snap button shirts.  I will damn well be buried in my cowgirl boots.  I like all music.  I adore lyricists.

Quite frankly, my dear... this little bird doesn't give a damn about what you think of me in the past.

What I do give a damn about is my friends.  My loved ones.  My family.  My studies.  My music.  My honor.  My integrity.  My professionalism.  My well being.  My health.  My future.

When you take time to think and reflect, you realize what matters.  You grow.  You take time to look in the mirror, see all the damages, and go... "Okay.  All I can do is go forward from this point."

And there you have it.

I am thankful for the stillness.

I may have ruined everything in my burning, but now I am still.

Quiet.

Reflective.

Growing up, yet again.

I hope to goodness this helps someone be smarter than I was.  Maybe we all have to go through it, but hopefully you won't make as many mistakes as I have.

For all my intelligence I like to think I have ( :) ), my emotional intelligence is clearly a little slower to catch up.

They never teach you emotions in school.  Apparently you have to deal with those when you get older with a therapist.  :D

But!  Yes!

I am so thankful today.  Thankful for my 30's.  Thankful for growing up.  Thankful for my awesome friends.  Thankful for my family.  Thankful for my fantastic bandmates.  Thankful for words.  Thankful for music.  Thankful for the chance to be alive.

Hug your loved ones close.  Life is short.

God bless you all, and goodnight.