Oy.
What.
A.
Week.
If you were here last week you know I was having some work stress…and the work I was stressing about is in the rearview, thank goodness, but it definitely impacted my brain this last week! I worked all weekend, rolled right into Monday, and had one point in one (of what felt like a thousand) meeting where I really thought I could feel my synapses short-circuiting and started sniffing for the smell of burning flesh. It was that kind of week.
But anyway, the week notwithstanding, stuff was going on upstairs and here’s what I found lying in the burned-out brain rubble:
One life, many lifetimes. When I took the train into the city Monday, I was the only one on the platform for a while. I was thinking back to when I used to work in Boston, when I did that commute every day—morning routine choreographed to the minute, hoping to get a parking space, hoping to make the train, hoping to get a seat…all that wory…for nothing, really. And as I sat on the quiet and almost-empty car a decade and a global pandemic later, I was thinking of those city years, trying to remember my 2010-ish life. Professionally, the city years were shitty years, but I loved the energy and the vibrancy of those days on the fringes, in the so-called “entrepreneur district” which now is the Seaport District and virtually a city unto itself…my life at the time was a little bit in, er, uh, flux, but at the same time I felt like I was developing some personal rituals and routines that were propelling me to bigger and better days ahead (for once I was right). It got me thinking of the different volumes and paragraphs and sentences and words that come together to make up our life stories. So many chapters that start and end, with all kinds of plots and all kinds of endings. Some pages left unfinished. An unknown number of whatever, still unwritten. And all with the same main character, who is at times a different main character. We live many lifetimes in our lives, and the older I get the more I realize the importance of not wasting a single one of them.
City energy. Speaking of the city and it’s energy, well, it’s definitely a different energy in the city. I got off the train Monday morning and as we filed along the platform and into South Station, we were greeted by what I’m assuming was a slightly disenfranchised gentleman yelling, “you f-cking privileged piece of sh-t” at each of us as we passed…not exactly the kind of energy I feed off of, but…I crossed the street to hit Starbucks my drink (shaken oat milk brown sugar espresso) was $7…seriously that’s like a buck a sip. But with my liquid pick-me-up and a bright sunny sky, I was well on my way, channeling the positive energy, giggling at the other stuff, and grateful for all that lives within and around me. Once again life proves that it’s as simple or as complicated as you make it.
Shelter from the storm. Speaking of being in the city and that conference I was at, I was reminded that life is often a mix of chaos and calm, and how important it is to find the calm in the chaos. Not always easy, but always necessary, and all-too often overlooked. It’s so much easier to get swept into the chaos that we forget about the calm…it’s not unlike how we tend to focus more on the bad things than the good things…being in the moments and enjoying them can be hard work, but IMO it’s the best hard work we can do.
Listening to music is one way I help find my calm in the chaos, and this is one of the songs that helps.
But if you have “Shelter from the Storm” or “Eye of the Hurricane” on the brain because I used those turns of phrase, well, here you go (they are also good centering songs):
Happy birthday. Speaking of lives and lifetimes, a special someone turned 50 yesterday. Corny as it sounds, every day since that first day when our lifetimes intersected has been a gift for me, and I will continue to enjoy the front row seat that I have watching one of the most incredible people imaginable live life selflessly and fully, and I don’t have a vocabulary to capture her amazingness. That said, it’s been hard for me to be empathetic about her “being old” since I’ve been old for a while now—but I can tell her that life just keeps getting better. Happy birthday just the same, Kerri!
Senior Citizens. Speaking of birthdays and being old, one thing I learned this week after going from 2.5 years at home to being thrust onto a trade show floor with over 5000 people is that as much as I’ve enjoyed pandemic life it completely camouflaged the fact that I was turning into a senior citizen. Apparently watching all those Progressive “Don’t turn into your parents” commercials did a number on me and I subconsciously manifested all those things they warned us about. God forbid I consciously manifest anything positive…🤦🏼♀️🤣
Go Green! The aforementioned energy of the city was off the charts yesterday, probably due to Game 3 aka the first home game of the NBA Finals. The 9PM start was killer. I slept more than I watched but was glad to see they buckled down and held on after starting the second half giving Steph Curry more open looks than is advisable in a high-stakes game. Thank God for Alexa…as my mom notes, “I stay up as late as I can but then I just ask Alexa who won when I wake up during the night.” She has such a great sports mind, maybe even say the greatest sports mind of any 79.97 year old out there…the other day I was on the phone with her and she made me guess who her fave Celtics player is. I didn’t guess correctly…Marcus Smart…and she has her reasons. Love her so much. 💚🍀
Stop the madness. Q. How sad was it when one of the murdered Uvalde teacher’s husband died of a heart attack days later, leaving four kids orphaned (WTAF‽)? A. Almost as sad as the boy-girl 10-year old best friends who are being buried together so they can be friends forever. And I have a question for people who believe they need a gun to defend their families…how does a locked and unloaded assault rifle help you when you wake up from REM sleep and realize there’s an intruder at the foot of the bed?
RIP. Jim Seals of Seals & Crofts died this week…triggering fond memories of listening to their albums while lying on the living room floor at my aunt and uncle’s old place. My older sister and I have this thing where we try to beat each other to breaking RIP news (she won this round). When I noted that “We May Never Pass This Way (Again)” is one of my top all-time songs, she confirmed for me that he definitely never will. Either way, great song. Have a listen.
Jolly Old England. Was the attempted (unsuccessful) ouster of Boris Johnson timed with the end of the Jubilee in an attempt to give the Brits something else to be jubilant about?
Quit when you’re ahead. Speaking of the Jubilee—and I love Diana Ross—her performance as The Headliner at that concert was an absolute train wreck. I guess the moral of the story is to make sure you have friends who will encourage you to get out there and do things but will also tell you when your expiration date has passed. Play to your current strengths and don’t expect to leverage past victories eternally. I mean, it kinda made that whole Ashley Simpson lip synching on SNL fiasco look like child’s play. But either way, Pride Month calls for Miss Ross.
Fun fact. Putting the Pedestrian in Pedestrian Pundit, in my five days working that conference I covered 38.4 miles with 71,309 steps. So there’s that.
Thanks again for spending some time with me. It’s always a pleasure having you here, and I appreciate you. Have a great week.
Love you too.