Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

It's not usually my style to post about my sadness on Facebook or Twitter.  It makes me feel weird to be comforted by the internet, and I wonder if there isn't something unhealthy about going to the masses for solace instead of to specific people for support and emotional stability.

But today started out so bad, I didn't stop myself.

Yes.  My Facebook is in German.  "Furchtbar" translates to "horrible," in case you were ignorant of that.

I did edit myself soon after, though.

"Feeling horrible" sounded overdramatic to me.

Why did it feel like a Monday?  Well, I didn't work yesterday, and I do work today, so that may have been part of it, but it wasn't all of it.

After about an hour of wakefulness, it already felt like the Universe had a case of the Mondays and was taking it out on me.  All week, my pipes have been playing Wack-a-mole with me: one would freeze, but the other two would still be willing to trickle into use, then the frozen one would unfreeze, but one of the working ones would go out, then only the hot water came out so that any shower I attempted to take threatened 3rd-degree burns and washing dishes would have sufficed as a medieval punishment for stealing.  Then this morning, all of the pipes decided they were done trying.  I left all the working ones dripping last night, but to no avail.  This morning, no water.  

After cursing a bit about that, I then logged into my Amazon account to check on some stuff I ordered that suspiciously hadn't come yet (I bought a 6-year-old PS3 and some games with Christmas money) and learned to my horror that, due to my nostalgic reticence to delete my old Grand Rapids address from my Amazon account, I had actually shipped said orders to said address.  I don't know anyone at that address anymore.

Then, after freaking out a bit about that, my computer told me that, Surprise!  There are about 300 updates you need to install, and if you don't do it now, you're hard drive will become corrupt and you will personally self-destruct.  (Okay, yes, that last bit was my brain's artistic additions, but they all looked like important updates and I was scared of not performing them immediately, due to some recent changes with my computer) Oh, and, these updates are so big, intimidating, and fundamental to your computer's survival that you're going to need to restart in order to complete them.  This task will take approximately two hours and you will not be able to use your computer at all during that time.

If you've been following my blog for the past six months or so, you might have noticed the progressively downward-spiraling trajectory that I've been on.  Starting with my graduation and gradually descending deeper and deeper into a crippling sadness, frustration, and feeling of crushing hopelessness, the latter half of 2013 did not go well for me overall.

If you've been following my blog for the past one month, you should have noticed that I have determined that 2014 should be much better than 2013, if for no other reason than I say it will be, dang it.  I made New Year's resolutions to that end, I stopped going on Tumblr, I began consciously eating more healthily and limiting the number of Netflix hours I spent in a week.  I even made a Super Spreadsheet about how I do want to spend my time and what I want to accomplish this month and every month to follow.  I worked hard to make sure that 2014 at least started off much better than 2013 ended.

And then this day hit.

It may sound stupid, because all of these problems that I've had are very "first world" and fixable, but my first instinct was to crawl back into bed with my puppy, call my mom, and sleep for a while.  For the past six months, the problems have been "first world," "fixable," "easily handled," problems, but there have been so many that I've stopped being able to see them in that perspective.  It got to the point where I wanted to shut the world out and just sleep for a while, hoping that someone else would take care of the problems while I ignored them.

That, of course, is not realistic.  But that, my friends, is depression.

Since I was still wearing my jammy jams, I felt no shame wrapping Fudge and me back up in my blanket.  But when I called my mom, it went to voicemail.  So I lay there for a bit, thinking about how terrible this day was turning out to be, mourning the loss of the morning of fun wedding planning that required a computer and candle making that required running water and Assassin's Creed playing that required that ill-shipped PS3.

What?  This is exactly what I look like when I'm sad and in bed.

But then, a miracle happened.

I remembered that, since I had started to hoard water in various vessels elsewhere in my apartment (my two electric kettles, my nalgene, some pots on my stove) Fudge and I aren't going to dehydrate today.  I remembered also, praise God, my toilet is a beast that could probably get water from the surface of Mars.  I had already used the toilet once, and I had already had some tea and filled Fudge's dish, but these little blessings had fallen from my mind after the other issues had piled on.

I remembered that I have angelic friends who still live in GR and have professed on several occasions that they are willing to do anything for me, including go to a complete stranger's house and retrieve packages that aren't theirs.  I had already texted those people and called my old leasing company to have them warn the new tenants, but in my increased sadness and frustration, I had forgotten about that.

So I got out of bed, I called my current landlord to tell them about the pipes.  I cleaned up the apartment a little in case the maintenance people came around.  I started my computer's updates.  I lit some pre-made candles.  I had breakfast.  I played with my dog.  I surfed the web on my phone.

I got some perspective.  My problems did not end my day.

2014 is already so much better than 2013.  Praise God from whom all blessings flow. 

The Old Q vs. Q Argument with a Lemony Fresh Twist

I haven't slept well the past few nights.  I think it's because of my unthinking untimely intake of tea (I can't help that I love tea and sometimes forget to go herbal after 3 pm) but it could also be due to my sudden enthusiasm for things that happen in my waking hours (a sort of new thing).  Whatever the cause, the effect is that my extended waking hours have, of late, potentially at my loopiest.

So, this afternoon, when I was in my car, driving home from lunch with some friends, and I heard a fascinating story on NPR, I maybe got a bit more excited than I would have on a regular, non-sleep-deprived-and-over-compensating-for-it Sunday.

Such a surplus of excitement, today, means a blogpost.

[End Intro]

The story was about a man who works very hard to make a living streaming music on Spotify.  If you know anything about how not-lucrative online music sales are for the artist, you're probably wondering how he does it.  Well, he does write about an average of 14,000 songs a year, so there's that.

Most of his songs are just catalogs of various nouns.  He's got an album about things he found in his house with a song about a door, and one hit about the hot water heater.  He's got an album of songs about transportation.  He's got a whole "band" dedicated to (ironically clean) songs about defecation.  The band's name is "The Toilet Bowl Cleaners" and "their" biggest hit is "The Poop Song" which...is exactly what you think it is.

Put the calculator down.  I'll do it for you.

An average of 14,000 songs a year, assuming he works 52 weeks a year, is about 269 songs a week.  On the radio program, someone mentioned that he records these songs in his basement 4 days a week, which makes an average of about 67 songs a day, which, assuming he works 8 hour days, is 8 or 9 songs in a work day.  That's written, recorded, mixed, and uploaded.

My brother is a musician who has been in the business for several years now, and he is just now putting together his second album.  I have a feeling he'd have a few choice words to say about Matt Farley and the quality of that music.

But I think both Dennis and Matt would say that two artists so different can hardly try to compare themselves to each other.  They don't have the same goals for their music, their outreach as musicians, or even their lifestyles and vocation, so why would their measurements of "success" be the same?

It's the old Quality versus Quantity argument...

...or is it?  Because, sure, Dennis works slower than Matt and his work is more fine tuned and probably has more longevity, and Matt has a volume that trumps Dennis' every time.  He writes songs four days a week.  He spends little if any time working on pre- or post-production stuff, he doesn't manage tour dates or book shows, and he never has to haul any of his equipment out of his basement.  All he does is just write, record, upload, repeat.

Artists--musicians, writers, painters, and all the rest--often talk about that process as a form of discipline.  Just write, just paint, just play: it's not about inspiration, it's about sitting down and working on your craft, not neglecting your skills, your voice, your practice.  It's about breaking through barriers like, "I don't know if I'm good enough," or "I have bad grammar," or "Am I tone deaf?  I mean seriously, have you heard me?" and just get anything down.

It feels to me sometimes like we feel we have to go through periods where all we're doing is Quantity in order to get to the moments of Quality that will sustain a career, legitimize our talent, and/or bring meaning into the world through our art.  It feels to me sometimes like we believe that the things we create in our periods of Quantity-Only are worthwhile only as part of a journey to the Quality we produce later.  They don't have inherent purpose.

But Matt Farley doesn't think that.  I mean, I guess I don't know what he does think.  But I know that PJ Vogt thinks that Matt Farley's 14,000 songs a year do have merit on their own.  They perform a service to the world beyond just getting Farley to a time where he can create fewer, but better overall work.

PJ tells the story about how he asked Matt to write a song for PJ's step-parents for a Christmas presents.  He gives Matt five bits of information about his stepmom, Nan, and PJ thinks about it for a minute, comes up with some chords, and, BAM, records a song right there.  PJ then takes that song around to his friends for the next few days and is clearly more excited than they are, and begins to worry whether his gift is going to flop.  But then he gives it to Nan on Christmas day and she is over the moon.  She listens to it multiple times, asks him twice to email it to her, and then sends PJ a note about how much she loved it, and how it touched her that he gave it to her.

PJ makes the connection that most of Farley's music does nothing more than acknowledge the existence of things--"This is a door," or "Poop is a thing," or "You're part of the family"--and step-parents often seek that simple acknowledgement without often receiving it.  "[The song Farley wrote for Nan] uncomplicated a complicated situation."  

It took seconds to write.  It was based off of extremely little knowledge of its own subject.  It made two people's Christmases.

If that's not Quality, What is it?

I wanted to write this post without sitting on it or editing it, in one swift action, in the spirit of Matt Farley.  When I was composing it in my head on the way from the curb where I parked my car, it sounded perfect and important.  The bit about Quantity-Only-creations having value all their own really spoke to me on a deep level as I danced out of my coat and skipped into my dining room to sit down and write this.

But as I try to round it out at the end here, I realize that the message is tried and true: quality is everywhere, and quality is what you make of it.  You don't have to be the next J.D. Salinger to write a novel that is great and American to someone.  You don't have to use your passions to pay your bills.  You can Just Write, or you can write sporadically.  There is no one, cookie-cutter right way.

Everyone has said that sometime in the past fifteen years, though, so now this post feels incredibly less perfect and important, even if it still speaks to me in my crazy, sleep-deprived-and-trying-too-hard mental state.

But damn me if I don't post it anyway.

EDIT:

@PKsDancingGirl Thanks for writing about me! Well done. (But, it's 14,000 songs since '08, not yearly (though now I have a new goal!).
— Motern Media (@MoternMedia) January 22, 2014

@PKsDancingGirl I google my name all the time! Check out my movie sometime: https://t.co/AymNwP0bNf
— Motern Media (@MoternMedia) January 22, 2014

It's the 19th! You know what that means...

That's right!  Today, The Post Calvin posted a blog of mine that muses about the strange complexity of photographs that both capture and save a moment in the past, and yet most often have as short a shelf-life as their subjects.  I also briefly mention flowers, in case that interests you.

Life's Little Lessons

Some things I've learned the hard way in the past week, for your sadistic enjoyment, in no particular order.

1. Chocolate & Mint tea that comes in a pretty tin and sounds like a wonderful way to wind down a day is actually quite caffeinated and shouldn't be consumed after 4:00 pm, and certainly not at 9:00 pm.
2. When I am caffeinated, I am consumed by manic Excel cravings.
3. I know just enough Excel functions to do serious damage to my sleep schedule.
4. Ultrasonic mice repellents may only work when they are actually on, or they may not work at all.
5. Dogs are not good mousers.
6. Low-carb diets are low-fun diets.
7. Bagels are not low-carb.

Obligatory Post about Resolutions

I'm going to be writing a post later (that, when it's finished, I shall link to here) about resolutions more generally, because I do have a bit to say on the topic.  (Friends and regular readers are now saying, "She has a bit to say about tying her shoes and flossing, too, I bet.")  For now, I just want to show you my new attempt at actually making 2014 a different year from 2013.  Because we all know that if they end up being twins, I'm going to throw something large through a plate-glass window.

For Christmas, my wonderful and talented friend Christie gave me a beautiful hand-made journal.  A few days prior to Christmas, I outfitted it as my 2014 Planner.  Like...literally, a planner.  I put plans in it.

And in the back cover, I've started a list of resolutions I have.  Some of them are things that I have to continually check in on over the course of the year (#s 1 and 5), some of them are monthly goals (#s 3 and 4), and some of them are things I will be able to check off as I go (# 2), and there is space for more to add as I go through the year and new things come up.

There are a lot of pages in the journal, and I plan to fill them up with dreams of what I will do as well as descriptions of things I have done so that, when I look back on 2014, I can remember it as a proactive and exciting time, even if things start getting rough and going south.

This post is a) a reminder to myself that I did this so that I don't forget to keep using it and b) a request for you to give me ideas of resolutions.  As you can see, I need at least 9 more.  Anything you think I should add?