Taking My Own Advice

I don't always say them out loud, but I have thoughts. Thoughts about what other people should do. I'm not proud of this fact, but it's true. 

"Why didn't that car turn left when it had that big opening?"

"If you had worn something with a bit more fabric in it, you wouldn't be shivering right now."

"That person should get a ticket for parking like that!"

Okay, these are not just thoughts. These are judgments. I've been working on being less judgmental, and I think I've made at least a little improvement over the years, but there it is. Judgmental thoughts continue to pop into my mind.

Sometimes--often, in fact--these judgments are about me, in which case they can usually be filed under WHAT WAS I THINKING? (That folder is so overstuffed that I can hardly get it back in the file drawer.)

I was probably thinking about what someone else should be doing.

Photo: HGTV

My husband gets up very early for work: often around 4:30am. I am NOT a morning person. If I'm up at 4:30, it's because I'm STILL up. So my sweet, considerate husband uses the little downstairs bathroom to get ready rather than the master bathroom, so as not to disturb me.

I rarely set foot in that bathroom, but last night I dropped off some bathroom tissue.

Let's just say that Bill's bathroom did not look like the pages of Homes Beautiful. (Neither do the other rooms in our house, but I'm personally responsible for some of those messes, which makes them entirely different.)

I had this thought: If Bill would just take an extra 10 minutes every so often to tend to this bathroom, it wouldn't look like this.

Later, I was brushing my teeth upstairs in "my" bathroom--the larger, nicer bathroom with better light and more counter space, which Bill has graciously given over to me, for the most part.

It's fair to say my bathroom did not belong in Homes Beautiful either.

Here's a fun fact about my bathroom: There is a small bag of drawer pulls sitting in a corner on the floor that has been there for at least two years. 

TWO. YEARS.

I bought them probably 10 years ago to replace the existing pulls on those drawers and cabinets. A grand total of five to replace, if I'm not mistaken. They sat in my closet until a couple of years ago, when I decided to put them someplace more obvious, so I would see and change them.

Even if I had trouble finding the right size screwdriver and insisted on carefully cleaning each cabinet door before replacing the hardware, that's maybe a 30 minute project that I've been procrastinating about since roughly 2005.

And...

Truth be told, that little bag sitting in the corner is not the only thing standing between my bathroom and the pages of Homes Beautiful.

If I would just take an extra 10 minutes every so often to tend to this bathroom, it wouldn't look like this.

The same thing could be said for my office.

If only I would follow my own advice. 

If only I would focus on doing what I can, rather than on what I think others should do.

What piece of your own advice would improve your life, if you actually followed it?

The Soundtracks of Our Lives

I awoke this morning to the sound of Elaine Stritch belting out, "Here’s to the Ladies Who Lunch” from the Broadway show, Company. She wasn’t in my bedroom, of course. Nor was her voice coming from the radio or iPod. The sound was playing quite clearly in my head. I have no idea why.

 

This sort of occurrence is not unusual for me, especially when I'm not waking to an alarm. Sometimes, like this morning, a specific performance comes to mind. Other times it’s a particular piece of music, but not a specified rendition. Not all selections are high-minded. For example, the Purina Cat Chow jingle from their 70s television commercials makes periodic appearances. 

Music has accompanied me through life as far back as I can remember. If I pause during the day to consider what’s playing in my head, it might be anything from a magnificent symphony to whatever Muzak was playing on my last trip to the supermarket.

I was relieved to learn the term “earworm" a while back, not because I like it (I don’t) but because if society had come up with a label for this phenomenon, it meant I wasn’t the only one experiencing it. I wonder sometimes if pervasive involuntary musical imagery like mine is a musician thing or perhaps a indication of an auditory learner. Do visual artists awaken with particular colors or paintings in their awareness? 

I miss the days when I could call my dad with some obscure piece of chamber music in my ear that I couldn’t place. I could sing a theme fragment to him over the phone for instant identification. (Occasionally, he would go on to gently point out that I was singing it in the wrong key.) 

My mom once revealed to me that dad’s entrance exam to the Eastman School of Music, where he earned his Master’s Degree, included a listening portion in which excerpts were played of pieces that were not widely known. Candidates were not expected to name the pieces, but were asked to place each example in the correct musical period (baroque, classic, romantic, etc.) and suggest a possible composer of the work, based on its musical characteristics. My father, legend has it, identified each piece correctly, down to the Opus number. I can scarcely fathom the elaborate concerts which must have played in his mind on a daily basis.

My own internal performances tend to be less noteworthy. It’s as though someone installed a personal version of Pandora software in my brain. I don’t consciously control the selections or sequence, but they are clearly influenced by my history, and a “thumbs down” from me does not guarantee that we will immediately move on to something I like better. Often, ads or other interruptions are jarringly louder than my music.

 

I have been known to whine about not being able to turn off this music, especially when the soundtrack is cloying or just plain annoying, but there are far worse things to have on a loop in your mind. Imagine the terrifying internal sounds that might awaken a war veteran with PTSD or a young person whose PTSD is from the war within her own home.

Of course, not everything floating around in my mind is music. I re-live arguments, complete with some of the things I wish I had said in place of what I actually said. I also rehearse future conversations, including many that never play out in person. I ponder questions and worry about the state of our world, fully aware that worrying doesn’t help.

I wonder if there are ways to consciously influence our personal soundtracks? (Who knows, that may be the basis of my own Master’s thesis one day.) I have found that a regular meditation practice seems to lower the volume and level of chaos in my mind to something I can more easily deal with and helps me focus.

I’d love to hear from others about your personal soundtracks. Do inventors or entrepreneurs have so many new ideas flying through their heads that there is little room for music? I know that some composers hear their own music before they write it down. Do architects and designers “see” things in their minds much of the time?

Do the voices of parents, ancestors, or other authorities ever offer you internal guidance or instruction? (If so, do you find this helpful or troublesome?) Do you ever hear your own voice - speaking, singing, laughing, crying? Do you hear new songs? ...or old refrains?  I invite you to share something of your personal soundtrack in the comments.