Rhythm

Rhythm, a sequence in time repeated, featured ...

Rhythm, a sequence in time repeated, featured in dance: an early moving picture demonstrates the waltz. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rhythm

Ya Gotta Have Rhythm

I’ve been caught up in a few projects lately, setting goals which look good on paper or screen, and wondering why I am not getting all the things done I want to or need to accomplish.  It seems that with the arrival of the vernal equinox there came a need to reflect, to assess, to plan.  At the same time it seems the chain on my wheel of life slipped off the universal cog, and while I continue to function I am out of step.

I have come to the conclusion that reflection, for me at least, is not best in the long run.  At least not when said reflection takes up the entire day. Day. After. Day.  I pondered days of yore when I was organized, and enjoyed the thoughts so much that I returned to them again and again.  Aren’t memories wonderful?  One can be so selective in choosing them.

Then when I noticed I seemed to be out of sync I spent a great deal of time thinking about that.  Wondrous thoughts like ‘I’m dancing as fast as I can’ came to mind, but really I wasn’t dancing, I was stumbling.

Now how can something like that happen to someone like me?  Fleet of foot, well balanced, witty me?

It finally occurred to me that I was missing Rhythm.  The Rhythm of getting up and getting started getting done.  Of course then I had to ponder what Rhythm does for us.  Aside from musical Rhythm which is obvious in its expression I considered the successful people I knew.  What did they do differently?  Was there a secret to their success?  And the answer?  Rhythm.

There are all kinds of Rhythm; some may remember the old fashioned birth control method, which didn’t work as often as it did work, then there is the toe tapping finger snapping feeling good kind, and then there is the very intrinsic, silent to the world but loud to the soul type.

This Rhythm gives us momentum as we dance across the floor of life.  This Rhythm is life.  It is energy.

I am not sure why I lost my Rhythm.  Does it mean I am not doing something I should be doing?  Is it Writer’s Block?  Or is it Life’s Block?  It is more than the inability to write anything worthwhile.  I feel like it is a shadow I am chasing, just catching it in the corner of my eye and then disappearing.

I am not depressed or sad.  I am my own enigma.  A puzzle.  The feeling is intriguing, and certainly entertaining.

I expect it will depart soon.  One can only be entertained by such things for a while.  I also expect that the secret to finding that particular kind of Rhythm is just in the doing.

Have you ever felt the same way?

On a Much Lighter Note..Mama Kat’s First Slow Dance With a Boy

Thank Goodness for Mama Kat and her Thursday blog challenge. This week’s prompts:

2.) Tell us about your song.
4.) Slow dancing with boys…talk about one of your first school dance experiences.

It’s a two for one kind of deal!

Once upon a time, long long ago, say around 1959, my public school, J. F. Carmichael held a dance every second Friday in the evening. It was called Club 87 as it was only open to these two grades. Our parents took turns chaperoning the event which from time to time could be embarrassing if they tried to actually dance because not one of us could imagine people that ancient actually dancing.

Not exactly how it was but...

Now the interesting thing about our age group is that many of the girls were taller than the boys who had not yet reached their growth spurt. If you ever saw the movie Grease (and I hope all have) there is a dance scene in the gym where the girls line up on one side and the boys on the other each group getting support from their peers, girls tapping their feet and boys shuffling theirs and doing their best to appear manly in dress slacks and ties. All being very shy and all shucks about it.

I don’t even remember his name but he was dashing in his slicked dark slicked back hair. As we danced in proper form he drew me closer and his head was at the level of my mouth. Turning his head I got a mouthful of Brylcreem as I was about to speak. Brlycreem..a little dab’l do ya…so the advert went but in his desire for the ultimate cool he had used way more than that little dab.

A small matter because the song they were playing was Paul Anka‘s ‘Put Your Head on My Shoulder‘. Well at least he could put his head on mine.  And it was perfect.

It doesn’t matter where I am, if I hear that song I am immediately transported back to that gym and my first slow dance with Mr. Brylcreem…..sigh.  It was wonderful.

hmmm I was taller he was shorter

PAUL ANKA
“Put Your Head On My Shoulder”
 

Put your head on my shoulder
Hold me in your arms, baby
Squeeze me oh so tight
Show me that you love me too

Put your lips next to mine, dear
Won’t you kiss me once, baby
Just a kiss goodnight, maybe
You and I will fall in love
(You and I will fall in love)

People say that love’s a game
A game you just can’t win
If there’s a way
I’ll find it someday
And then this fool with rush in

Put your head on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear, baby
Words I want to hear
Tell me, tell me that you love me too
(Tell me that you love me too)

Put your head on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear, baby
Words I want to hear, baby
Put your head on my shoulder

 

Thank you Photobucket.

Crushing on..and on..and..

Crushing On and on and on and……

A boy you had a crush on..and where is he now?  From Mama Kat weekly challenge.

Well the title says it all pretty much.  I am a crusher.  Falling madly and deeply for ever, or til the end, which ever comes first.  I do believe that earlier crushes stay with us, probably because of the purity of the young.

My very first love was Keith Evans who lived next door.  He was six and I had just turned five.  Of course it was an unrequited love as he had more important issues, like sports, hanging with the guys, being all macho like.  I doubt he was aware of my adulation and I mostly gazed from afar as he was friends with my brothers.  Dark hair, cute face – just perfect- having met my short list of requirements which included proximity.  

I was set to start kindergarten that Sept and imagine my surprise when our mothers arranged for him to walk me to school on that first day.  Mom gave him a letter I had to take to the school and he manfully put it in his coat pocket to give to the principal.  Walking beside him I felt like the luckiest girl in the world so I found myself strutting enjoying the fact that I was with a prince.  Of course it was only for the first day.  After that I was on my own.  He returned to the mass of developing testosterone that defined my brother’s world.   But it was a moment.

Then soon after he moved away.  Well just not him, the whole family.

  I missed him about five minutes because a new family moved in, and my attention diverted on a dime to Ronnie Ahrens.  Again it was unnoticed and unrequited. But now hehe I was older so tried to fit into their world, still on the outskirts but started to get involved in their games.  Always the last chosen for baseball teams,…,me not him..probably because I ran from every ball that flew my way… and was made to wait in the ice rink side for hockey. 

I even forced myself to jump off the high diving board, one summer to impress him and scared myself half to death but once up there nothing would make me turn around and crawl down those steps.  I have no idea if he even noticed as I was busy preparing myself to meet my maker. Oh and it was a fine display of a belly flop so I felt the pain much longer than the fear of heights.

There was one god like creature who lived at the end of the street.  His sister was my friend Mary.  First off he would actually talk to me as his straddled his bike…Mr. Cool.  He was blond, blue eyed, lean, athletic and he had the first pair of white bucks in the neighborhood.  For those of you not sure of the immense impact white bucks had you will have to google them and Pat Boone.

Perfection I tell you! Just getting all warm just thinking of..wait for the heavenly music,,,tada….Peter Lang!  Even his name was perfect.  This crush lasted a long long time.

I got up the nerve to ask him to my grade eight Sadie Hawkins dance which he accepted…I think cause his mom made him…and I was so nervous I have no idea what he thought of it, and never will know thank goodness.

The funny thing is that when I was in high school he started asking me out.  A lot.  But I was going steady and having been raised right ..you know, morals and everything, I could not accept.  A few years later he was getting ready to go off teaching and me to nursing when we ran into each other, back on our home street.  I was getting married…he was getting married..but not to each other….sigh!

Within two years both our well thought out marriages failed and we each moved onto other spouses and had families.   I saw him only once after that, in a park, each of us with spouse and children.

And that was the last I saw of him.  I heard he had moved up north some where.  But now and then my mind wanders………and somewhere in the back of that thought, Pat Boone croons and I stand there..this geeky kid..I swoon!

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