Soundtrack: Volume Five - Summertime in Waco

I was the firstborn grandchild, the first of six Martin granddaughters. There was probably some disappointment that none of us were boys to carry on the Martin legacy, but you wouldn't have known it, because all we ever knew was love. Every day spent with my grandparents in Waco, Texas was like magic. Sadly they are no longer around to see the girl that they helped mold into the person I am today, but they are with me all the time and I know they're smiling down with pride.

My Grandfather coached me in the art of being a good tomboy. He took me to the dirt track races and the rodeos. We'd go to the fairgrounds and he'd let me ride as many of those rickety carny rides as I wanted, time didn't matter, we went home when the sun went down. He caught me a "pet" armadillo, showed me how to shoot beer bottles off a fence post and taught me to drive his red and white El Camino, while I sat on his lap, steering the wheel, while he worked the pedals. Had we ever gotten into some kind of accident, I'm sure he would have just brushed me off and told me that was God's way of toughening me up.

My Grandmother, she was strong as nails, but as close to a genuine southern belle as I've ever seen. She was glamorous, with the perfect Texas drawl, it sounded like melted butter and brown sugar. She always smelled amazing, I can't describe it, but I'd know that scent anywhere. She taught me the pretty side of being a girl. When I wasn't allowed to keep a wild armadillo as a pet, she gave me a kitten. I caught frogs in the backyard all dolled up like a little debutante in sundresses and pig tails. Every time we drove through a yellow light, she'd kiss the palm of her hand and press it to the ceiling of the car for good luck, something I still do to this day.

In me they instilled a wicked combination of elegance, brawn, brains, good solid Texas roots and an appreciation for great music.

Long before I worked in a record store, I learned about music from an old radio that sat on a nightstand between two twin beds at my grandparents house. By day it was all Country. Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Tammy Wynette, George Jones, all the greats. I heard of Elvis Presley's death on that radio one hot August afternoon. By night it was tuned to a Big Band/Jazz station, that is the music that I can still hear when I drift off to sleep. It was the perfect soundtrack for slumber.

The radio sat directly under a mounted deer head. The glow of dial lit up the six-point buck's face in a gentle, calming way. My Grandfather told me that the rest of the deer lived behind the wall. As a child, I imagined it watching over my sister and me as we slept. Nothing could hurt us, if any potential harm came our way, I just knew that brave deer would bust through the wall and save us all. As a child it made perfect sense. That glass-eyed stag was my hero and every night before getting under the covers, I'd stand on my bed and kiss it on the nose in a gesture of thanks for keeping us safe.

Summers in Waco, that is where it all began. Tomboys, girlie girls and fine, fine music.

Soundtrack: Volume Five July 22, 2013

Destination Moon - Dina Washington
Let's Get Lost - Chet Baker
Knock Me a Kiss - Louis Jordan
It's Raining - Irma Thomas
Got My Own Thing Now - Squirrel Nut Zippers
Miserlou - Dick Dale
Feeling Good - Nina Simone
What'll I Do - Rosemary Clooney
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered - Ella Fitzgerald
Begin the Beguine - Sheryl Crow
Someone to Watch Over Me - Ella Fitzgerald
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes - The Platters
Me and Mrs. Jones - Billy Paul
Night and Day - Ray Charles
A Kiss to Build a Dream On - Louis Armstrong
The Girl From Ipanema - Astrud Gilberto/Stan Getz
De-Lovely - Robbie Williams
Too Marvelous for Words - Frank Sinatra
Melodie d'Amour - Dean Martin
Beyond the Sea - Bobby Darin
Mr. Sandman - The Chordettes
Que Sera Sera - Doris Day
Wishin' and Hopin' - Ani DeFranco
Let's Do It - Alanis Morissette

A Life Less Extraordinary

There are no absolutes in this life of ours, with the exception, of course, that one day we will die. That statement isn't meant to be sad or all melancholy and shit , it's just the cold, hard facts.

However, this life is a bit of a prankster. There you are functioning out in the world, doing your thang and everything is fine, perfectly status quo, happy as a clam...then bam, just like that the rug is pulled out from under you and everything changes on a dime.

What. The. Fuck. Life?! Why you got to be such a cruel bitch at times?

I sometimes actually fantasize about living a life less extraordinary. Don't get me wrong, I'm not living this incredible, lush, glamorous lifestyle, not by a long shot! What I mean is, I wonder what life would be like if I didn't think so much and analyze every fucking little detail of every fucking little thing so fucking much, you know, actually let my brain have a day off now and again. Or what if I had a way less stressful job, a job where people's lives weren't on the line.

How would it be if I slept like the normal people of the world, during the night instead of trying to keep my body upright from sundown to sunrise with copious amounts of caffeine. And would I freaking die if I didn't have to be the life of the party every single time?! What if my bark weren't actually worse than my bite and I had the courage to recognize and accept that about myself? What if I stopped using humor as a coping mechanism and for once faced my problems like a serious adult should. What if I had a heart that was incapable of being beaten up and bruised?

I'd be like a one man cast of Wizard of Oz characters, but hey, I sure would look cute in those ruby slippers!

Faults, I have 'em, that's a fact. There are many that I have come to terms with over the years, but what I can't seem to shed is this godammed armor that I've been wearing for years. You can't see it because it's that awesome Wonder Woman kind, but my true friends know it's there, they tell me when it clashes with my outfits and accessories. Those bastards will call me out in a minute, because they know what is underneath all of that heavy metal and fucking loud-assed, over the top personality of mine. I ain't fooling them, not for a minute! They know that ordinary girl exists, and guess what, they still love her for exactly who she is, the one that they have seen completely defenseless and weak and vulnerable and even pathetic at times, but they've never left my side, not for a second.

Turns out that perhaps I have not made enough peace with my past and am allowing it to fuck up my present. I've got to reign that shit in for reals, I mean someone that I met exactly four weeks ago recently told me that he too could see right through my "so called" tough girl facade. If my friends can see it and someone that I just met figured it out right away, why the fuck can't I?

For the record, this isn't meant to read as some self-loathing bullshit, it is just me admitting that I have a problem.

"Hi, my name is Kara and I like dressing up in suits of armor because I'm afraid of being susceptible to being wounded or hurt."

First step is admitting it, right? So I'm off to AA (Armor Anonymous) with the hopes of coming to terms with my addiction.

1. I admit that I am powerless over my addition. - Seriously, wearing this metal breastplate has become unmanageable.
2. I believe in a power greater than myself, can restore my sanity. - Well hello Sir Lancelot, where you been hiding all these years, I really could have used your armor wearing advice long ago!
3. I will make a decision to turn my will and life over to the care of God in the way that I understand Him. - For me, that means chocolate.
4. Make a searching and moral inventory of myself. - Like finally unpacking those boxes marked "hot mess" that are still buried in the back of my closet.
5. Admit to myself and other human beings the exact nature of my wrongs. - This is a tough one because, come on, am I truly ever wrong? Ok, ok...maybe so wrong, I'm right!
6. I'm entirely ready for God to remove all of my defects of character. - If I believed for a second that I could pray my armor away, I'd start praying the second I finish this blog post!
7. Humbly ask Him to remove my shortcomings. - Second verse, same as the first.
8. Make a list of the persons that I have harmed and become willing to make amends with all of them. - This could take a while, but okay.
9. Make direct amends to such people as much as possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. - I took an oath years ago in my profession to "Do No Harm," so I'm not about to start senseless injuries to those I care about.
10. Continue to take personal inventory, and when I am wrong, promptly admit it. - Gotcha, this I can do!
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as I understand Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. - No joke, I'm signing up for some yoga classes right up the street from me this week. I could use a good, healthy dose of zen!
12. Have a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps and practice these principles in all my affairs. -Yep, I'll be fine once I get it, I'll be good.

"It's never too late to be happy. But it's all up to you and no one else!"

Come On Get Happy

If someone were to randomly stumble across my blog looking for "happiness" they might be a bit confused by the actual content. I mean, here is a girl advertising that she is in hot pursuit of the happiness, but on the surface it sure doesn't look like she is having much success finding it.

Just where is all this so-called happiness? I assure you it's there, underneath it all.

Happiness is a no brainer. When your heart is filled with glee everything is radiant. Not a whole lot of thought goes into feeling happy. Rarely do we ever question why, nor do we over analyze the reason for our euphoria. We just live our cheery little lives with a peaceful heart and a big dumb smile on our face.

Sorrow, well that is one that we really have to pay attention to. Sometimes we have to make sure that horse is really dead before we can move on. We are wired to deal with affliction, in a way I think we secretly love it. Without it we wouldn't feel real. Why do we keep torturing ourselves with painful stimuli? Because it feels so good when we stop.

As the saying goes, "Ignorance is bliss." What you don't know can't hurt you and not knowing something is often more convenient than actually knowing it. We try not to delve any deeper than we have to in fear of what lies beneath. We are fooled into thinking that we have found the bliss, so we float awkwardly on the surface with that big dumb smile on our face.

You can only tread superficially for so long, eventually you have to make the decision to swim to shore or face the fears and submerge yourself completely. It's paralyzing because once we go under we begin to anticipate failure, we shudder over possible rejection and are terrified of making a decision, because what if we're wrong? What if we make a mistake that can't be undone?

We heed the warnings but still yearn to see it for ourselves. We have to make our own messes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to wash our own hands clean, only then can we fully appreciate that knowing is better than wondering, standing is better than falling and even the biggest failure is most certainly better than never trying at all.

So we weather through the storm and emerge safely on the other side, knowing that real happiness is found in the courage to get back up and do it all over again. Appreciate the small victories and the struggle it takes to simply be human. Welcome the familiar and be thankful for the things we'll never know. Recognize what you have for what it is and be grateful.