Now taking applications for a tasty li’l snack who will deliver strawberry cream slushes from Sonic to my workplace on a semi-regular basis. Fluency in Spanish a plus. Inquire within.

(I may still miss my last Girl Friday.)

Last evening at the bar, someone queued up a song on the jukebox I hadn’t heard in a while. Yet, I knew it was in my collection, somewhere, as it is on my original iPod.

So, this morning I looked to add it to the current 90s playlist in my car. It wasn’t in my iTunes library. At. All.

However, a quick browse through the Finder showed I had the track... right where it belongs, the way I have music organized on the computer. It’s been there for fifteen years.

Which leads me to wonder... how much more “lost” music do I have?

What i'm listening to:

The Way
Fastball
All the Pain Money Can Buy

This week, I rediscovered an old mix tape. Listening to it reminded me of the beautiful young lady who made it for me.

Then, I got to thinking about the lost art of the mix tape. And I wondered...

Sure, many people make playlists. Some are great. Some are simply mediocre. Yet, with the advent of iTunes, Spotify, 8 Tracks, and Pandora, everyone has the option to share their playlist with the world. Whether they are great. Or mediocre.

Does this make them less personal?

I suppose that depends on if the playlist was intended for someone in particular. Or if it was for yourself. Or if the music on the mix has any special reason for being there.

However, creating an actual “mix tape” (and, to a point, mix CD) requires a certain level of talent, planning, dedication and finesse. Cassette tapes have a finite amount of time to work with—you have to convey your intent within thirty, forty-five, or if you were lucky, fifty-five minutes (my favorite cassettes to work with were the 110 minute blanks from TDK) per side. Plus, you had to plan the music so that the side didn’t run out before the song did.

At least, in order to make a really good mix tape, you had to keep this in mind. Perhaps we all had friends who gave zero fucks, and while driving down the road, a song you love cuts mid-track when the tape switches sides.

Also, in the age before digital download, you’re only able to include songs you have access to. Cassette-to-cassette was a popular option. Programmable CD changers were even better. If you’re desperate to include the latest hit, recording it off the radio—hoping against hope that the jock would keep his mouth shut as the song ended and the next song didn’t overlap (too much).

Honestly, my early mix tapes sucked. A lot of jock’s voices cut into dead air. Re-recording over a track that didn’t fit, but not exactly erasing the previous song.

As with projects I was passionate about, I gained a certain sense of pride over my mix tapes. Friends asked me to make copies. Girls never complained about their gifts. Road trips were supremely enjoyable.

Then, I met Meegan. Bright-eyed, beautiful, charming Meegan. I liked her right away, and took advantage of any opportunity to spend time with her... including a road trip.

During that road trip, I was exposed to music I had never heard before. Some of it new, some of it classic, some of it old. Some of it unique... even by today’s standards. I also discovered blueberry dessert pizza, but that’s a topic for another day.

So, she made me a mix tape with the music she likes. I still have it, and treasure it as if it were gold or diamonds.

I have since digitized it, and the playlist lives on my iPod, but listening to it always puts a smile on my face.

I wonder if she kept a copy? Or maybe she copied a mix tape she’d made for herself? Or maybe she hardly planned it at all—simply throwing together songs and hoping they fit. No, there’s definitely a hint of thought and caring within the mix.

I know whenever I made a mix tape for someone, I always made myself a copy first. I’d listen to it in the car for a few days—just to make sure that the songs went with each other, and there were few, if any, faux pas recorded.

Many of these, I still have as well.

Finite limits may be gone from the creation of playlists, and I may be able to quickly download any song I deem necessary to fit into the playlist—such as those songs I remember only in dreams (does this happen to anyone else?)—but I still tend to keep my playlists short, sweet, and thoughtful. As if I could quickly burn it to an eighty minute CD upon request.

Maybe it isn’t a lost art after all.

What i'm listening to:

Run to You
Bryan Adams
Reckless

You must learn to govern your passions. They will be your undoing.

The adventure of having a roommate continue. I find it truly amazing how society, government, life has failed this girl, yet somehow she perseveres... all the while hating life.

Interestingly, the more I learn, the more questions I have. Then again, isn’t that how life works out?

How is it possible for anyone to continue to enjoy a life with no consequences for their choices? Or relatively few? Perhaps God does exist?

This week, I have learned:

• My roommate has never finished a first week of work without, at best, calling out at least once, nor, at worst, falling out/ejecting from the job completely.
• Even when you have nothing but time, it is acceptable to evade responsibility because “nobody has time for that.”
• Getting paid nothing to do nothing is better than not getting paid enough to “catch attitude.”
• “Feeling some type of way,” apparently trumps any reason to follow through.
• Desperation erases all boundaries when mistakes are made.
• Failing getting what you want, there is always some way to NOT be held accountable for your actions.

As one who’s on a mission to improve my life, it is downright shocking to see how someone who has failed to set a bar on life—at all—manages to slip through the cracks in society. Yet, I get it. Society, government, life doesn’t want to deal with some (most?) people. As long as the offenses are minor, why not allow so many to get away with so much? As long as they are a burden to someone and not on the state dole, why not?

What does all of this mean for the newly-crowned “provider” who is still trying to pursue his dreams? Ultimately, time will tell. At this moment, progress has slowed to a crawl on the purge. I’m hemorrhaging money and resources on both things I require to move forward, and keeping my roommate simply going.

As long as I persist, and don’t start “feeling some type of way,” I shall persevere. I must.

What i'm listening to:

Spill the Wine
Eric Burdon and War
Eric Burdon Declares “War”

The following quote by George Bernard Shaw appeared in my email last week... and it really resonated with me.

The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.

How true is that?

Yet, we’re all guilty. I know I am.

I phone worse than most. As I previously stated, I don’t use it for that. My behavior runs deeper though. I will read a text when I get a moment to glance at my phone, and frequently formulate the response in my head. Sometimes that is as far as it gets. I assume I sent the text... yet I didn’t.

Then there are other times phones are hard. I’ll actually type out the text, and forget to hit send. Stupid? Perhaps...

However, one of the recent lessons in my life is to take nothing for granted. If I think she’s beautiful—I need to tell her. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

Seriously.

So, communication is key. Why not talk to this beautiful girl? Or that one? Find out about her. Pay attention to what she says. Riff off of that.

Too many people I know think about what they’re going to say next instead of listening. It’s rude. It’s not authentic. And it’s the reason we don’t really know each other.

Don't just be usin' the time that I'm talkin' to be thinkin' 'bout what you gonna say next.

Be curious. Talk. Be social.

How do you talk to someone who believes the “devil” is responsible for everything bad in her life?

This. Is one of the reasons I cannot believe in religion. Every choice we make in life has consequences. Some good. Some not so good.

The devil is not responsible for anyone’s shitty life.

Is that what you want, or is that what people expect of you?

A lifetime ago, I wrote in this space about the bold statement. What a statement it was.

While it hasn’t been a horrible thirteen years, it hasn’t been everything I had hoped it would be. Countless hours of HGTV watching haven’t ever been realized on this home... which is okay, because I don’t have the budget of a bird watcher and a kindergarten teacher to work with.

In fact, now I prefer to think of the bold statement as a boat anchor. It’s tied around my neck. It’s weighing me down and preventing me from drifting into the chaos I crave. It’s like I’ve been living someone else’s dream.

Now is the time to reclaim my abandoned desires/dreams. I’ve always had wanderlust burning deep within. It’s time to break these chains, find what fits in my backpack and cast aside everything that doesn’t.

It’s time to sell... well... everything. Do I have anything you want?

There’s an entire world out there, waiting for me to explore it. There are so many women to meet. There are so many sights to see. There is so much to experience.

Yet, I’m not getting any younger. It’s time to set this pirate ship free and set off across the seven seas. How thrilling!

I finally know what I want! Not what other people expect... it is time.

As the 3rd of July draws to a close, we celebrate the end of another Dependence Day.

Be safe, everyone!