Worry worry worry (Wendy)

So yesterday I had a mini-meltdown. It started out as a great day. I had a doctor’s appointment and for the first time, didn’t get my blood drawn with what felt like a knitting needle, and getting weighed wasn’t as traumatic as expected (I surprisingly didn’t weigh quite as much a small elephant). Plus, I got to hear my baby girl’s heartbeat, which is always thrilling.
I drove home with India Arie soundtracking me through sunny downtown Nashville streets with lush spring green all around me. Life was good.

Then, in the middle of a conversation with my husband, it all came crashing down. He said something seemingly innocuous about a friend of his’ pregnancy that really nothing to do with me, but I took as “holy s%&# - THAT can happen??” – and spent the rest of the day combing the internet as proof of my pending doom and cursing my dear sweet husband for inadvertently poisoning me with anxiety (poor guy didn’t even know what hit him).

It was really quite the turnaround, and even at the time, part of me was thinking “where in holy tarnation is this coming from?”

Eventually, I realized that this is something that I do. I simply don’t trust the good.

I reflected back on when we finished our kitchen makeover a couple months ago. I’d been pining for this dreamy new kitchen for years and the end result was even better than I could’ve imagined. Yet, I sensed this anxiousness bubbling inside of me and it was trapping my joy like a rat. I became pretty much obsessed with the fact that SOMETHING was going to break and it would all come crashing down.

I don’t know why I do this. Maybe I don’t think I deserve good things. Maybe I think that drinking in the good will jinx it. Maybe I’m preparing myself for doom because that seems easier than braving inevitable heartbreak. I don’t know, but I realized that I’ve got to face this problem: I am a chronic worrier. Even when I was a kid, my nickname was “Wendy the Worry Wart”. (Who doesn’t like being referred to as a wart?) and my mom famously likes to tell me that as a toddler, I almost never toddled - I was literally too careful to even fall down.

There are aspects of my life that are so filled with analysis and worry that, when I think back on those times, overwhelming anxiety is the first thing I remember. How sad is that??

I don’t want to make it sound like I’ve spent my life balled up in a corner shaking... on the contrary, I’ve taken some considerable risks in my life and I have definitely lived. But the monkey on my back has always tagged along - even this past week, I’ve had so many little worries crowding out my logical brain that I go to bed thinking “What did I even accomplish today?” Worry acts as a big pause button - it renders you immobile. Ineffective. Much like worry itself.
So, in true COFFEE fashion, my personal goal this week is to a.) face my worries and not let them burrow under my skin and wreak havoc on my days and, b.) tell them to fudge off. For reals. They're just not pulling their weight anymore.

As tribute to these pests, I leave you with beautiful Ray LaMontagne who clearly seems to understand.

Itty Bitty Birds

Well, I have to say that my productivity really improved this week. Largely because of this really super fun web project I'm working on, but also because I spent more time making music.

In other news, after what felt like years of waiting, I finally had the ultrasound appointment this week where we found out the baby's gender. IT'S A GIRL!! Yippeeeee!

The experience of the ultrasound was so powerful and moving. Really, such a joy. I wish I could have someone put a glob of goo on my stomach and do it every day so I see my little girl raising her arms over her head, curling up in a ball, stretching out, wiggling her teeny fingers, etc.
We even got a video of the entire event! Man, technology these days is so incredible!! Eric made a little 11 second video where it looks like she's waving and pointing.



So I decided that, in keeping with the theme, I would record a version of a song I wrote last summer.

Itty Bitty Birds was inspired by my newfound fascination with hummingbirds. I lured them onto my front porch (and then to our back patio, too, as my obsession grew) with my pretty red glass hummingbird feeder and then sat in wait and tried not to blink.
Eventually one iridescent green-flecked Hummer, who I named Francis, claimed the feeder as hers and spent lots of time with me - feeding and perching on a Hackberry branch nearby to guard her territory . I spent sooo much time sitting on my porch last summer watching Francis and her interlopers flit and hover and buzz, sometimes just inches away. And every time, it felt like a little mini miracle somehow. I read that Hummingbirds have incredibly high metabolism (lucky suckers) and are always within hours of starvation if they don't find food. They are the smallest bird, but yet they're almost an anomaly considering the fact that they can fly backwards, up, down, sideways and hover in mid air, all the while supporting their body weight through the sheer force of their own energy. They just struck me as such resilient, determined little creatures.

When I wrote Itty Bitty Birds, I had wee little humans in mind, too... thinking about my newest niece Grace, born a preemie - triumphing and growing so beautifully. And now I have my own Itty Bitty Bird coming soon, so I thought it was a perfect song for this week.

Warning: Whining roads ahead (Wendy)

As you guys might know, we’ve been renovating our kitchen. This was our 5th week and yesterday was our contractor’s last day.

I should be celebrating now. I’ve done my best Pollyanna impression throughout it all...but holy buckets I gotta be honest, I just feel.... weary.

I should be unable to take my eyes off our new kitchen, feeling up the new countertops and appliances in Vanna-like anticipation, but when things progress so... piece meal, in meticulous detail, day by day - meanwhile choking down yet another mushy crock pot meal (or uncooked – always one or the other), it has the effect of sucking out the final wow factor.

The giant pile of rubble in the backyard, the ever present layer of dust throughout the house, the fact that I feel so confined to my little area upstairs while the work goes on below me, has taken a serious toll. I know it’s short-sighted and immature, and I think this is the first time in a reeeeeally long time that time has felt like it’s dragging, rather than skipping. But I can’t shake this feeling that I’ll never have a functional kitchen with exciting touches like quarter-inch trim along the floors, I’ll never have a clean house, I’ll never get to drink wine again, I’ll never get to fill up my gullet with too much coffee and I’ll never meet this fluttery little munchkin inside of me. I’m having trouble seeing the light at the end of the tunnel here, people.

See? Negative.

Okay, so aside from all that, I do have good things going on and there has been some progress. Since the number of people coming in and out of the house has waned somewhat, I’ve been able to resume my music to an extent (because I really need alone time for this). My goal was to record a video of a new original or cover this week to put on my youtube channel, but seeing that I’d be caught dead before I made a video of me warbling with other people in earshot, I’m shooting for next week (I know, it’s ironic). In other news, it looks like I have a very cool new graphic design/web project coming up. So these are good things. AND I have also made efforts to connect more with people.

So there’s all that. Onward!
This has been a pretty lame post, I realize. Sorry about that, Sisters. I will post a picture of Millie listening to Van Halen (her fav) to lighten it up.

This announcement brought to you by ... Wieners (Wendy)

Well... This was the week that I finally announced the big news that I’m preggers! I am 17 weeks along. Due in July. BANANAS!

It’s a seismic shift in my world, to say the least. But here I am. And I have been procrastinating telling the world without knowing exactly why. I am awed by this wee little life tumbling around inside my guts - I inherently know that this baby will be the medicine that will heal my splintered world. I know this intellectually, but my heart always has a hard time catching up with my brains. It’s kind of the perpetual state of my being – not feeling ‘caught up’ to life's motion.

And, I’ve realized, that’s why I’ve been feeling so lost... because I haven’t made my move to catch up, yet. I've been feebly resting on the same wiener-ish stance: “I’m just lost... I just don’t know what to do with my life next”.

So my next big COFFEE goal is to stop being a wiener.

I need to start taking a proactive roll in my life - not some distant mirage I can't even make out. I need to stop trying to create a Play-Doh mansion out of a crème puff and start devouring the crème puff with gusto.

So. Here are my two main goals:

1. Get more engaged with my blessed baby-filled reality.
2. Start making music again.

That last one may require more explanation... Because music has represented a fair amount of hurt in my life, I’ve let my voice get stifled. As a result, my mood has gotten more and more anxious and more and more irritated.
And then, just this week, it dawned on me. I’m anxious and irritated because it’s like I’ve packed up my most favorite, prettiest dress in a box and stowed it away in the attic. I’ve buried that thing that makes me feel alive.

You sing and you write because the music is in you, not because you are trying to cram yourself into the music (world). The music world is an illusion anyway.

I have a LOT of shadowy demons to get past and it’s not going to be easy. But I’ve been inspired by Patresa – who has been making music just for the sake of it.

I want to go back to that - free of agenda, free of illusions.
Isn’t that how creativity should be? Like the 5 year old making up songs and singing them to herself in the back seat on the way home from Grandma’s? Is there a more beautiful song than that?

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make music because I can. And because maybe I have a few things to say. And because, when I don’t, I feel like a bluebird masquerading as a turkey. And I’m going to try to hold myself accountable to you all, my COFFEE sisters, by updating you along the way.

Focus Pocus (Wendy)

If I were a dog, I would be hanging my head in shame with my tail between my legs right now. I feel so unworthy to be here. Really, what a schmuck I am for not even having posted/commented on COFFEE lately. I truly love reading ya’lls writing. You guys all intimidate and amaze me with your mad mad writing skillz.

Truth is, I have started countless COFFEE blogs and, as soon as I got to the part where I dig down in the dirt for a bit of honesty, my mind goes on strike and that Janice-like, nagging voice chimes in with “who wants to hear you whine, anyway?” But I skirted my last post and I know that it’s time to face the music.

The last few weeks, my brain feels like big bowl of alphabet soup. Fragments of thoughts... incomplete insinuations of ideas... mists of insight dissipating before my eyes... all disconnected and swirling in a broth of indecision and anxiousness. Why? I’m not really sure. I just lost my footing somewhere along the way and am having the hardest time finding it again.

Maybe it was the pressure of 2011 and the idea that I should have some inkling of a plan for it... Or maybe it’s the fact that a few dozen wrenches have been thrown into my original plans over the past couple years/months. (Yes, big changes are coming… more on this at a later date).

All I know is that my biggest obstacle right now is trying to picture my future. Trying to...what’s the word...visualize? Those of you that know me know that I’ve worked at this music thing for a long time. I’ve literally arranged my life around it. I used to know exactly where I wanted to be. But lately, I just feel lost.

I’m officially disillusioned with the music industry. I’m officially disillusioned with myself.

The accumulation of disappointments has caught up with me and is holding me down like bullies in a schoolyard. Lately, I feel like my fear is this hardened wall of plaque that’s built itself around me over time, protecting me/enslaving me. I feel literally immobilized by it at times. I know, intellectually that it’s ridiculous to let fear hold me hostage. If I was giving myself advice, I’d slip into my best Cher impression and say “Snap out of it!”, but even Cher can’t penetrate the plaque.

Have I lost anyone yet?

The last thing I want is for this post to require a violin soundtrack. I don’t mean to sound pitiful or like I’m fishing... I’m actually hoping this is the beginning of some great epiphany... I’m just awaiting the materialization of said epiphany -- something to sink my teeth into - because frankly, I’m well versed in all the philosophical and spiritual renditions of this tune.

Yes, I could set some tangible, detail-oriented goals like “write 3 new songs a week” or “schedule 4 more gigs” or “walk for 1 hour each day”, but that feels gratuitous and empty at this point. Until that proverbial apple clunks me on my head and knocks the funk right out of me, I will live up to my name and wander...

So, for the purpose of COFFEE, (that is, setting goals and doing them) still...I got nothin’. Waa waa waaaaaa.

Move on, Sister. Move the fudge on. (Wendy)

I have officially succumbed to peer pressure. Holly mentioned the power of “putting things out there”, and its tendency to motivate words into action, and I have to concur. Whether by our own volition/conscience, or via a kindred soul’s intervention, “putting it out there” is powerful stuff. In this particular case, I couldn’t put my Call Bill project out there for the world to know, let ya'll flood my ears with kind and encouraging words - then stuff all that in my pockets and move on selfishly without a little action. So.

I CALLED BILL.

The Bill.

And it truly was thanks to you COFFEE chicks (and my fear of looking like a weenie) that I did it. If it weren’t for those factors, it would, most certainly, have remained a smudged artifact on my white board of shameful procrastination for the next decade.

So, being that this here’s my last post of 2010, I said to to myself “Lady, you need to kick this Call Bill project in the ever-lovin’ fanny. This thing does NOT need to drag into 2011. If you don’t get rid of the green beans on your plate, you’re never gonna have room for the meatballs.” So that’s what I did.

I dialed.
He answered.

(Have I also mentioned that I am sooooo not a phone person? Seriously, I border of phone-phobic). Not only did he answer (to my surprise), but the anticipated awkward “hello?” was replaced with “WendyJ!”, like we’d just talked last week. Let me remind you that it’s been approximately three years of SILENCIO! (Holla Warden P!). But the call was so… natural that it was almost unnatural. It was like “so, what’s new”… oh I don’t know, in the past three years??? So, even tho my bronchitis resulted in my very first words sounding like a demented swamp toad, our conversation recovered and progressed amicably and, was really no different than it had ever been. Oh, I could dissect tones and word choices and perceived excitement levels to gauge our friendship’s current standing, but I would never dream of ruining a good thing with overanalysis… [bittah, bittah sarcasm]. No but seriously, I am choosing not to go that route.

It was a short conversation because he was in the middle of moving. In fact, the conversation only lasted 2 minutes and 43 seconds, ending with the promise that he’d call me back in 15 minutes.

He didn’t call me back. Which actually doesn’t bother me because in the end, it’s really not about whether someone likes you back as much as you like them, (which is a pretty superficial conclusion to draw anyway considering the amount of factors that can be involved in any given transaction), it’s about being authentic to yourself.

I’ve realized lately that friendships based on reciprocal liking, while human nature and all... can often compromise how you really feel and you can lose touch with yourself quickly that way. You have to just love someone as much as you do, and if they don’t return the favor, don’t stop. I mean, don't be a stalker or anything, but don't stop feeling the way you feel out of retaliation or imitation, because that's childish and often misguided.

And you know, that feels good. I am relieved with myself that I made the effort to reach out. That’s all I can really do. I would love it if he calls back, but if not, I can go to bed knowing that I did something. Noble? Badge-worthy? No. But it resolved a small ache in my soul, and that’s pretty invaluable.

Aaaaamen! Now let’s move the fudge on from the Call Bill project and everyone have a beautiful and peaceful Christmas, safe travels and delicious fudge.

2011 is gonna be OUR year!

Make a plan, Stan (Wendy)

I’ve been asking myself why I can’t seem to focus lately. And I’m so tired of the question – it’s become overly dramatic, like in a Nancy Kerrigan “Whyyyyy???” kind of way.

I mean, seriously, I decided to write this post this morning. Then, as I opened a new Word doc, I suddenly decided that I needed to update my Christmas list… then before I had written anything down on my Christmas list, realized that I was in the middle of my daily to-do list, then my sister called, then I decided to get a snack….on and on the wheels spin.

Can I just TELL you how many half-written to-do lists I have sitting around?

Seriously. How exactly do you focus and get things done when you can’t even focus long enough to finish your to-do list? Reminds me of the time I tried to read a book on speed reading. It started taking me so long to read the stinkin’ book that I eventually abandoned it altogether. How’s that for irony?

I just have to be ACTIVELY interested in something in order to complete it in a timely fashion.

So that’s where I’m at. With everything. Unless I have a client or another person to please, I have a really hard time focusing. And right now, most of the stuff on my list is for the sake of my own business/life, so I’m just lost. Lost in an echoey sea of wish-wash.

Now, usually this is the point in the problem-solving thought-process where I stop and go get a cup of peppermint tea, then find something else to do.

But reading all of you sassy COFFEE chicks’ posts, I have noticed that you all generally don’t stop with your thorough assessment of the problem. You employ a tactic I like to call “a plan”. But a plan requires a vision. And this is generally where my brain fogs over and all I see are visions of naps and snuggly blankets and steamy mugs of a creamy cup o’ soup. This time, though, I’m barreling on, thanks to ya’ll’s inspiration.

So here’s my plan. I’m going to spend time every day this week meditating on a vision for my life. Where, specifically, do I want to go next? How am I going to get there? What does the ‘getting there’ part look like, exactly? Have I finally gotten new highlights?

Seriously, this is going to be a real challenge for me. Focusing and silencing for, well, any solid amount of time.

My husband built a meditation/prayer bench in our front yard that would be perfect for this exercise, but seeing that it’s a balmy 16 degrees out and only an asshat would weather that kind of frozen calamity, I will find a comfy, private location where I will sit and think for 10 minutes per day.

Yes! A tangible plan!

Wish me luck, COFFEE Chick-a-doodles, and thanks for the direction – I needed it!

Greasy Popcorn Adventures only get you so far (Wendy)

" 'Can't repeat the past?' he cried incredulously.
'Why of course you can!' "?
~ The Great Gatsby

Towards the end of high school, I had this idea about reuniting with my best friend from my elementary school days. I had literally not seen her since probably 4th grade when she transferred to a private school, but boy did those childhood memories wax poetic… snowy afternoons after school watching Scooby Doo at her house, sipping marshmallow laden hot chocolate while eating her mom’s salty popcorn cooked in oil on the stovetop (a real treat for a girl who usually got nothing but stinkin’ air-popped corn)...
But the relationship was even deeper than that. For one, she had the COOLEST playhouse I had ever seen. It was an actual miniature house, fully-furnished, complete with an easy-bake-oven.
Our friendship had intellectual roots too. I remember her vast love of books, specifically of the Black Stallion series and how I deeply admired her ravenous literary appetite (while I struggled to finish Pollyanna in under a year).

So, armed with this solid foundation, we made plans to reunite. I’m not sure why, but we decided that the logical activity for two former best friends who haven’t seen each other in over a decade, would be to go to a movie. So we went to "The Pelican Brief". I vaguely remember it as being some kind of courtroom drama-thriller heavy on intricate details and blah blah blah. I know that Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington were in it. For me, there wasn’t enough dancing or jokes about poop. I was bored. She, however… well I guess all those Black Stallion stories had paid off because she had developed into a full-blown intellectual. I think she was studying law or medicine or something like that and she had skipped a few grades. So we’re in the car after the movie, and, having no real common life context anymore, started to discuss the movie (oh THAT’S why we went to a movie!). She launched into a full discourse analyzing the legal complexities of the movie, and I was basically left mumbling “yeah! … Denzel is hot”. So I guess what I’m getting at, is that while it was really great to see my old friend and I will always have a place in my heart for her, some people’s brains grow at a faster rate and I think we all know which end of the spectrum I was at.
But seriously, she had developed into a studious and serious young lady and I… well, our differences outweighed our greasy popcorn adventures. This was a fairly hard lesson to learn and I haven’t seen her since. And truthfully, in retrospect, I kind of wish I’d just left my memories alone. Sometimes I wonder if the ‘what if’ is actually better than the ‘Crap, guess I know now’.

I think the memory of this incident has had an impact on my Call Bill project. I am deathly afraid of ruining my beautiful memories.

But I bit the bullet and did call one of my Bills, because in this case, it was about more than trying to relive golden memories. So we decided to get together. It had probably been 3 years since we’d seen each other. In this particular case, it was a complicated relationship and our sabbatical was not by accident. Our relationship had become somewhat unhealthy.
But let’s face it, after three years, hindsight comes as a mirage whereby the process of idealizing and framing the person in an overly flattering light is almost inevitable. So, given my revised view of this Bill and maybe a renewed compassion, I decided that we should reunite.
Luckily, I’ve been burned enough to at least have no false expectations – the voices of reason still being audible.

So I went and met with this Bill of mine. And you know what I found? There was a reason for our sabbatical. Oh, our meeting wasn’t horrible, it’s just that he spent an hour and a half talking about himself… his achievements, his whirlwind lifestyle, dropping fabulously famous names… and that’s fine, but literally after not having seen him in 3 years, he barely asked a single question about me. It was an “Oh yeah!” moment as I walked away -- the one-sided relationship, the confusing feeling of utter invisibility to someone who claims to care about me… it all came rushing back. But you know, the closet therapist in me actually has a pretty big tolerance for people like this because I rationalize “Well, they must NEED someone to listen, and I guess I’m okay with being that person to them”. But in all honesty, that’s not sustainable.

I don’t want to make our meeting out to be a failure, tho. I actually think of this particular Call Bill experience as a success. Against all odds, I was happy to know that we still shared that personal bond that we always had. I really don’t know how to describe it… a familiarity… a recognition of the person he is beneath all the b.s…. I don’t know, but it was palpable and I realized that I haven’t given up on this person, I’m just waiting to become visible to him. That may never happen, but NOT giving up on someone is a far better feeling than having irreparably frayed edges of relationships laying around. It was a good reminder, a good confirmation of my choices, and hope that bonds can still remain when everything else is gone.

Progress Schmogress (Wendy)

I'm not gonna lie. I almost forgot that it was my turn to post. In fact, I have had family in town, from Iowa, for the past 5 days and have nary spent any time visiting our beloved world wide web, let alone reading the clever posts by my COFFEE sisters (sorry about that, guys). And so, my Call Bill project has been put on hold.

It seems like this doubt-infused phase is a common thing, though... Jumping into a project with the fervor of a thousand hungry elephants only for the slithery snake of fear to creep back in... Then the feet start dragging, the palms start sweating, the brain starts going counter-clockwise - with thoughts like "That was kind of a stupid idea"..."Why bother?"..."Put down the crackpipe and be reasonable"... and before you know it, you've got a full-on case of the Negative Ninnies invading the pretty space you so idealistically created.

I'm definitely not speaking for all of the COFFEE chicks, particularly because you all seem to be blowing me out of the water in terms of tangible strides, but I do notice that everyone seems to struggle with this phenomenon at least to an extent.

I have to admit that lately, I've been thinking about some of the Bills on my list and having doubts like "...he really doesn't give a crud about you anyway... You're just being overly sentimental...You're setting yourself up". Fortunately, ever since I read The Artist's Way, I do recognize these voices as the imposter, and a natural part of the process.

But regardless, that's where I'm at. Minor setback as of late. But, I will resume activity. I have dipped a foot into the water and I'm fixin' to wade to my knees with the help of the super rad COFFEE chicks to inspire me!

The Magic of Meaning It (Wendy)

I once read a book called Write it down and it Will Happen! It was chock full of testimonials from people who claimed that they wrote down their goals on a piece of paper, then sat back and watched while every single one of them magically happened on the date they wrote next to it.
Well, I hate to be the pooper at the party, but I followed the book’s advice and it was a dismal failure. My list is still sittin’ on some dusty hard drive – bitterly unfulfilled like a scorned woman. So I decided that the whole thing was poppycock… until the Call Bill project restored a little of my faith.

I get the concept behind Write it Down… -- the idea being that, with the act of writing it down, you are squeezing your obstinate ideal self into your subconscious space, which is determined enough to work miracles. Nowadays, the hip term for this idea is "manifestation" attached to the notion of "speaking into the universe" your desires.

I have to admit that I think it’s a little silly to think that the universe is going to twist its intricately woven fabric so that I can get that promotion at the filling station (yes, I made that up for effect :-), but I will admit that I experienced this Write it Down/Manifestation phenomenon with the “Call Bill” project.

Although I really hadn’t really made any tangible strides towards the project except for a lot of talk - I will say that I felt myself becoming a little more brave and a little more open. It was only days into this new perspective that, out of the blue, one of my Bills called ME! After over a year without any communication, he called with a new project for me to work on with him. So, while it wasn’t a purely social call, I have to wonder if it was the wind crying “Windy (Wendy)” – to let my old friend know that I’m open for business.

I do think sometimes that our countenance, when truly sincere, can penetrate physical barriers like time and space. I don’t think it’s magical, I think God’s presence lingers in all of the details of life and within our unseen battles and victories. Even though it seems like He’s not on our side a lot of the time, I think he’s just waiting until we’re ready. We may try to convince Him otherwise, but there's just no fooling God.

So, I pray, I speak, I type and God, in turn, whispers and prompts (when the time is right). It’s not clockwork and it’s not a formula, but I do believe. This experience tells me that maybe it’s more about meaning what we say – real intention - not some stupid list on a page sprinkled with fairy dust.

The “Call Bill Project” (Wendy)

I have this whiteboard in my office with an ongoing list of things to do for work and whatnot. I have had the bullet item "Call Bill" on the white board for probably a year now. My idea is to, well, do that. It's not as simple as it sounds though - let me explain...

I Heart Bill

Bill was a music friend with whom I used to write, record and perform. He's one of the funniest, most awesomely soulful people I've ever known. I. Love. Bill. But, we always had a stop/start relationship and for whatever reason, we lost touch. I feel immensely guilty about this. Especially because he's had some hard things in his life happen which I have been absent for... I don’t want to assume I’m more important than I am in the relationship, but based on who I wanted to be to him, I have failed and have this need to rectify that.

There's Bill and then there are the other Bills

...And the thing is that Bill isn't the only "Bill" in my life. I have a short list of Bills. Several of them are musicians that I collaborated with and was very close to (sidenote: It’s interesting how, in creative endeavors, you are able to form a unique bond that doesn’t exist in normal relationships – maybe this is why it bothers me so?). But unfortunately, when you're immersed in the network-centric music business, friendships born out of that get convoluted and often take weird and hurtful paths. So friends drop off and you're not really sure if you're supposed to be hurt or mad or just have moved on nonchalantly. Maybe it’s just me and maybe I’m just way too nostalgic. But I even have dreams about these people and our reconciliations.

The Scary Part

So my idea is to resolve this by making contact with the Bills in my life, even though I'm terrified they will hate me and feel like I abandoned them, or just generally think of me as a creep. This is also part of an over-reaching ideal to re-join society. See, a lot, personally, has happened in my life since moving to Nashville eight years ago… I won’t go into the details, but so much of that enthusiastic naiveté I had under my Iowa bonnet has been slowly squashed like a bug in the Nashville machinery. As a result, I’ve become too fearful, too untrusting, too tightly wound, and it’s culminated in some serious isolatin’. So, I’m going against the grain of my escalating introvertness and breaking the cycle even though it scares the bologna out of me (and P.S., I’m not talking the “oh yeah, me too!” kind of introvertedness people claim as they slip into their party shoes and speed-dial their BFF’s; I’m talking a-week-with-no-outside-contact-introvertedness).

In the Immortal words of KISS, "Do it!"

I’m going to reconnect, re-emerge and stop being so scared of people. I’m going to embark with wild abandon and fully flushed cheeks on the Call Bill Project!

{ To know Bill even better, check out this special version of my song "Don't Fall" from my first album (Today). When this version was made, Bill was engineering some background vocals and, as usual, jocularity ensued...(the French man in the last half of the song wasn't actually part of the song ;-). }