The Climb a.k.a. The Grind

I worked every second of my “spring break” except for two 3-hour chunks.

Not that I’m bitter.

Listen to the original sung by Miley Cyrus, written by Jessi Alexander and Jon Mabe

I can almost see it,
My life as “doctor”, but
There’s a prof during eval’s sayin
“You gotta engage more.”
Every class I’m teachin’
Every client I’m treatin’
Feels like my true direction—
Not classes takin’—
And why I’ll keep on tryin’
Gotta keep my focus clear.

[CHORUS]
There’s always gonna be another lecture
I’m always gonna do the work last minute
Always gone feel apathetic
Most times I’m gonna fake it
Ain’t about my professional goals
Ain’t about credentials on the other side
It’s the grind

This high hoop jumpin’
The debts I’m makin’
Sometime might scare me still, but
No I’m not wasting
I may not admit, but
These are the core years that
Are gonna temper me, yeah
Just gotta remember
And I gotta steer straight
Open to discovery, cause

[CHORUS]
There’s always gonna be another lecture
I’m always gonna do my work last minute
Always gone feel apathetic
Most times I’m gonna fake it
Ain’t about my professional goals
Ain’t about credentials on the other side
It’s the grind

Yeah

[CHORUS]
There’s always gonna be another lecture
I’m always gonna do my work last minute
Always gone feel apathetic
Most times I’m gonna fake it
Ain’t about my professional goals
Ain’t about credentials on the other side
It’s the grind

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Keep on fakin’
Keep grinding
Keep skatin’ through
It’s all about, it’s all about the grind
No focus, no focus,
Whoah, whoah, oh.

Jolene a.k.a. Doggy

I adopted a dog 2.5 weeks ago, which coincides with when I stopped posting on here. It seems appropriate to return with a dog-focused song . . .

Listen to the original as sung by Dolly Parton or an excellent cover by Mindy Smith

Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
I’m begging you please don’t take my man.
Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
Don’t act so cute just because you can.

Your wagging tail’s beyond compare,
With fluffy locks of all black hair,
With perky ears and eyes of “please feed me.”

Your smile is like a childish grin,
Your whine is so pitiful,
And I cannot compete with you, doggy.

He talks about when you crapped last,
Worries when you eat too fast,
And I just want to enjoy brunch, doggy.

And I guess I can understand
How he’d become such a major fan
But I don’t know how I can compete, doggy

Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
I’m begging you please don’t take my man.
Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
Don’t act so cute just because you can.

You could play when I’m not there,
But you beg for walks everywhere,
And drop slobber balls in his lap, doggy.

I had to have this talk with you
I hope we can share custody
But whatever you decide to do, doggy

Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
I’m begging you please don’t take my man.
Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
Don’t replace me just because you can.

Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
I’m begging you please don’t take my man.
Doggy, doggy, doggy, doggy,
Don’t replace me just because you can.

Doggy . . .

The Story of Us a.k.a. A Traditional Life

A little more serious than usual . . .

Listen to the original Taylor Swift song here

I used to think one day I’d have a traditional life,
Where I’d meet my husband and we’d be happy,
People would say, “They’re the forever kind.”
I used to believe I’d find someone to balance me,
Now I’m flinching away from a friendly smile,
‘Cause lately I don’t even know what team I’m on.

Oh, a damning explanation,
Internalizations lead to self-hate,
Feelings that I wish I never knew,
So many doubts I can’t solve or prove.

Now I’m hiding even when I walk with friends and we’re joking,
And I’m dying to know, is it as clear to you as it’s clear to me, yeah?
I’m scared of honesty, since that firework night when illusions broke down,
And my traditional life looks more like a question mark now.

Why was I made this way?
Listen desperately to endless sermons, trying to find answers,

Could I raise my children with two mothers?

I’m starting to lose my grip on this traditional life,

Hopes I had breaking into uncertain pieces,

If I fit it back together, what will I see?

Oh, I’m scared I’ll end up with nothing,
Can’t help longing for that old ending.
Just when I found the truth my future’s lost,
Is this what being myself has to cost?

Now I’m hiding even when I walk with friends and we’re joking,
And I’m dying to know, is it as clear to you as it’s clear to me, yeah?
I’m scared of honesty, since that firework night when illusions broke down,
And my traditional life looks more like a question mark now.

This is looking like an impasse,
Of warring desires that can’t last,
And I’ll like it better when I can feel peace.
The battle’s in my hands now,
And it’s time to lay my weapons down,
Release with them my out-dated dreams,
Feelings that I wish I never knew,
And my traditional life’s transforming too.

No more hiding whenever I walk with friends and we’re joking,
And I’m going to tell, so it’s as clear to you and it’s clear to me, yeah,
I’m embracing honesty, celebrate the night when illusions broke down,
Cause my traditional life looks more like a kaleidoscope now.
My life’s transforming.
And I’m going to tell, so it’s as clear to you and it’s clear to me, yeah,
I’m embracing honesty, celebrate the night when illusions broke down,
Cause my traditional life looks more like a kaleidoscope now.

I Knew You Were Trouble a.k.a. I Knew You Weren’t Brainy

I feel like I should have a “woke up on the wrong side of the bed and then attended the most worthless class ever” warning on this one.

This song is inspired by the experience of going from a challenging undergrad to a graduate program that is . . . not.

Listen to the original Taylor Swift song here

Once upon a time, much anxiety ago,
I was on on your list, you called up on the phone,
You asked me, you asked me, you asked me,
I guess I didn’t think, and I guess I didn’t care
And when I said yes, you seemed much better
So low stress, so low stress, so low stress

And relief’s gone when I do homework
And I realize this sham is on me

Cause I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
So blame’s on me now
Only ask for feelings, common sense gone
No questions allowed, oh
I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
So blame’s on me now
Only ask for feelings, common sense gone
So I hide my IQ underground.
No, not, brainy, brainy, brainy
No, not, brainy, brainy, brainy.

No expectations. They’ll never wonder why,
How these shallow assignments are making me cry,
They’re fluffy, they’re fluffy, they’re fluffy.
Now I hear myself sound elitist and snobby,
But I just want a little more thinking,
But now I see, now I see, now I see

I was running away from hard work
And now the lesson’s on me, yeah!

I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
So blame’s on me now
Only ask for feelings, common sense gone
No questions allowed, oh
I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
So blame’s on me now
Only ask for feelings, common sense gone
So I hide my IQ underground.
No, not, brainy, brainy, brainy
No, not, brainy, brainy, brainy.

And the saddest realization slips in
That I was so insecure when I hoped for yes, when I said yes, yeah

I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
So blame’s on me now
Only ask for feelings, common sense gone
No questions allowed, oh
I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
So blame’s on me now
Only ask for feelings, common sense gone
So I hide my IQ underground.
No, not, brainy, brainy, brainy
No, not, brainy, brainy, brainy.

I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
Not brainy, brainy, brainy.
I knew you weren’t brainy when I signed on
Not brainy, brainy, brainy.

Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Counselors

Listen to the original song by Waylon and Willie

Counselors ain’t easy to shock and they’re harder to bore.
They’d rather hear of sorrow than small talk or sports.
Neutral soft sofas and soothing tea choices,
And each one “mm-hm”s their own way.
If you don’t get talked out, an’ they don’t break down,
They’ll prob’ly drink every day.

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be counselors.
Don’t let ‘em help friends or read social psych.
Make ‘em life-coaches and nurses and like.
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be counselors.
‘Cos they’ll bring crazy home and watch TV alone,
Regressing with childish shows.

Counselors like positive regard and well timed reflections,
Making connection and fancy words like “projection.”
Them that don’t know them won’t get it and them that do
Get lost in acronyms.
Shrinks ain’t bad, they’re out-dated knights tilting others’ windmills,
Try things to make you feel all right.

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be counselors.
Don’t let ‘em help friends or read social psych.
Make ‘em life-coaches and nurses and like.
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be counselors.
‘Cos they’ll bring crazy home and watch TV alone,
Regressing with childish shows.

Baby One More Time a.k.a. Baby Buy Dead-Tree

And now the losing half of the pop-princess war . . . (oh yeah x30)

Listen to the original Britney Spears song

No ebook, ebook,
No ebook, ebook

No ebook, ebook,
How was I supposed to know
That buying paper wasn’t clear
No ebook, ebook,
I shouldn’t have to say so
But screens feel inauthentic, yeah

See here, each novel’s different,
Has an old book scent,
And you need to know now, oh because

This modernness is killing me (And)
I must profess, I can’t believe (Can’t believe)
When text reloads in mid-story
Not necessary
Forget it, baby, buy dead-tree.

No ebook, ebook,
The reason I read is to
Feel detached from our time
And cozy, baby,
That’s not something e-ink can do
It’s not the way Twain wrote it

See here, each novel’s different,
Has an old book scent,
And you need to know now, oh because

This modernness is killing me (And)
I must profess, I can’t believe (Can’t believe)
When text reloads in mid-story
Not necessary
Forget it, baby, buy dead-tree.

No ebook, ebook,
No ebook, ebook,
Ah, yeah, yeah
No ebook, ebook
How was I supposed to know,
Oh silly baby,
That buying paper wasn’t clear
I must profess, that this modernness
Is killing me now
Don’t you know I can’t believe
This ebook reading
Not necessary
Forget it, baby, buy dead-tree.

This modernness is killing me (And)
I must profess, I can’t believe (Can’t believe)
When text reloads in mid-story
Not necessary
Forget it, baby, buy dead-tree.

I must profess that this modernness
Is killing me now
Don’t you know I can’t believe
This ebook reading
Not necessary
Forget it, baby, buy dead-tree.

Breathing through Brandy

Inspired by a mish-mash of country songs

I lost you to a headline:
Local boy died last night
Cause: unknown.

I’m silent and empty,
your voice echoing
the last joke we shared.

But time washes clarity
from every memory,
leaving trite words on a stone.

Now every year since you
I find myself crying through
the Februaries.
It goes from, “I’m fine,”
like any other time,
to breathing through brandy.

I used to know the exact date,
our black anniversary.
Now I’m like the leaves
in autumn, falling
without knowing why,
I’m crying through
my Februaries.

I lost my sobriety
to winter apathy.
Three years: wasted.

I’m weary and hopeless
feeling hollowness
instead of new years.

No one warned me that loss
could melt in summer and return
with the frost of shorter days.

And every year since you
I find myself crying through
the Februaries.
It goes from, “I’m fine,”
like any other time,
to breathing through brandy.

I used to know the exact date,
our black anniversary.
Now I’m like the leaves
in autumn, falling
without knowing why,
I’m crying through
my Februaries.

I lost myself in a headline.