Tag Archives: music

Every single one of us wants to be believed

“But
Trying is the point of life
So don’t stop trying

Promise me.”

Amanda Palmer’s got a new song out called “Bigger on the Inside,” and while some of her musicianship is not always my bag, her words always are.

I’ve also been reading her “The Art of Asking,” slowly, in bits and pieces, because it breaks me open with its honesty and straightforwardness in a way that other great writers on vulnerability do (like Brene Brown), but even moreso.  Her perspective is about learning how to make art and silence our inner critic long enough to let ourselves create; it’s about learning how to ask others for help, how to ask without fear, and how our creative drive and our need for interconnection stems from a need to “be seen, understood, accepted, connected.  Every single one of us wants to be believed.  Artists are often just louder about it.”

Yes.  Every single one of us wants to be believed.  Sometimes it just takes us a while to find our voices.

Apt to confuse me… such an unusual sight.

Adulting (that’s what I’m calling it, anyway)– it’s a thing, and apparently I’m (knock wood) finally doing it right… or found the right group of people to be adult-ish with.

I got the promotion/transfer/raise today, and everyone in my store and my colleagues in my district were already acting like it was a wrap. Still, I need to obsess and prepare and then the interview was long, but almost a cakewalk, like everyone else already said it would be.  I’m excited and more than a little sad that it means I have to give up my old team, but it all also feels right.

Maybe it’s something I can get used to.

… we all will be received

I don’t think I’m a superstitious person, until I am.  I’m a neurotic person, until the relief comes and I feel– almost hysterical giggles. I’m a pessimistic person, until something so right slaps me in the face and I just can’t believe that it’s happening– here, the kismet of a hiring manager who’d traveled the same college (no, we went to the same school, only a few years apart)/attorney practice burnout path that I did.

I’m still learning to defend my right to write my own endings, to not just flee in panic and blow up my bridges behind me because I don’t believe I deserve the good things (even though I kind of did paint myself into a corner about needing to find a job ASAP), but it’s not the same kind of complete shut-down and self-sabotage I’ve engaged in before.

Sure I mouthed off, but I was right, and if I’d been fired, at least I’d have collected unemployment, because I’d have been able to prove that she couldn’t take 360 degree constructive critique.  Still, I couldn’t help but be– shocked and relieved at how quickly it all came together, or to feel like I had the universe’s blessing when “Graceland” came on in the car as I was turning off the highway and into the shopping center as my resignation letter poked out of my bag, as lovely and light as the anticipation that filled my chest with (for once) joy (and not dread).

I’m not saying my new employer is the be-all end-all, or that snarling at your boss because she’s a slacker is the best way to light the fire under your own ass to hasten your job search, but– as I drove in to work and happened to pull in right behind my boss as we arrived at the same time, Paul Simon’s singing

“And I may be advised to defend 
Every love, every ending 
Or maybe there’s no obligations now 
Maybe I’ve a reason to believe 
We all will be received 
In Graceland”

actually seemed like, for me, it might actually be true.  Maybe there’s someplace I’ll let myself be received, at least for now.