"Stop the world, I want to get off..."

Stop the world 

I want to get off

This is too weird for me

Stop the world

I want to get off

I get the definite impression

That this isn't how it's meant to be

     No, no...

Too much undesignated time on your hands can be a very bad thing, especially if your mind is like mine and is constantly in motion. I've been thinking a lot about deep, philosophical things lately, like the meaning of life and our seemingly small, insignificant impact on the grand scheme of things. I know, I know - you're all saying, "Get a job, Nicole!" Surely, there are better ways to spend my time. And clearly, I need another martini.

But the more I look at the world - actually, let's take it a bit smaller - the more I look at the things that touch MY world, I wonder whether I really belong where I am. It seems everyday I look around and wonder to myself, "Who are all these Pod People, and when did they land on planet Earth?" It's harder to define myself as being part of a group or community, or simpatico with any wave of thought. Why do we need all these labels, anyway? For example:

I don't want to be called conservative, and I am most certainly not liberal. But if you live in the middle you may as well not exist because no one is listening to you.

I'd prefer not to be called African-American, but that will be ignored and people will call me what they want to call me no matter what I say. If you want to refer to the color of my skin calling me "black" seems a bit ridiculous, even after some rather aggressive summer tanning. I think "latte", or "light caramel" would be more appropriate. But why is any of that needed? Why can't you just call me Nicole?

There was a time when relished the thought of being called Episcopalian - those days are SO over. The combination of hypocrisy and apathy that completely overshadow the people who are actually doing good work in that church is more than a little bit dangerous, and I just can't jump onto this new, progressive, soft and fuzzy, more "spiritual" theology that they seem to be boring us to death with on Sunday mornings but yet sells like hotcakes off the virtual bookshelves of their most popular theologians and scholars. But perhaps living in this fishbowl called Ohio is more to blame for that than anything else. I still have a deep affinity for the Lutherans, but I don't like the direction their liturgy is taking and there are few Lutheran churches (at least in this area) who worship really well. And by that I mean the music, preaching, AND execution of the liturgy run like a well oiled machine, no matter what their "style". It just ain't happening, with few exceptions. Perhaps another fishbowl issue.

Organists are kind of like the second cousin, twice removed of the family of professional musicians. For some reason we seem to exist on a completely different plane of existence than our musical comrades, I think mostly because our professional lives have evolved so much around the Church, which in many cases seems to have no use for professional musicians or artists in general. They just get paid too much, you know. And if you're not really interested in church work, well, the organ world doesn't quite know what to do with you. Living for the sake of one's art isn't as common in this corner of the artistic sphere as one would think, besides the fact that you'd starve to death in a matter of weeks.

So, what's left? I still want to dream big dreams and be willing to risk it all for the sake of something extraordinary. There are few people out there on that road, and it gets incredibly lonely. I'd still like to believe that anything is possible if you are willing to do what it takes to make it happen. But it seems to many people are more concerned with being reasonable and practical. Ok, I get that - everyone has their own way of living. And sometimes life just beats all the life and energy out of you, and you just don't feel like you have anything left to risk. But I have never believed that a person's spirit can ever really run dry. Sometimes it needs a little assistance - friends, family, faith, therapy, gin, whatever - but there is always more. Sometimes we just get convinced - by ourselves or others - that it's simply not worth the effort. Or even worse, that we ourselves are simply not worth the effort. But that is NEVER true.

I do not want to live in this very "black and white" world that is emerging around us. I also have no love for some fuzzy, undefined, unfocused alternative. So I ask again - what's left? And why do I have to fit in your little boxes, anyway? It reminds me of the song from the opening credits of "Weeds". (For those who have never watched it - it's a racy but well written series about a young widow with 2 children living in an affluent neighborhood in California who starts selling weed to keep up her family's standard of living. Great show, but don't watch it with the kids). There's a fantastic claymation video featuring the song below.

When did we abandon the goal of living extraordinary lives in favor of "little boxes made of ticky tacky"? I don't want to be defined by the ridiculous labels and definitions given by modern society - do you? Let's bust out of this joint, as we used to say in the 80's. Let's create something new and different and live like we are on fire while we're doing it - you know, burning with passion, and all. Cause my little clay house just isn't big enough...

Little boxes on the hillside 

Little boxes made of ticky tacky 

Little boxes on the hillside 

Little boxes all the same

There's a pink one and a green one 

And a blue one and a yellow one 

And they're all made out of ticky tacky 

And they all look just the same 

And the people in the houses 

All went to the university 

Where they were put in boxes 

And they came out all the same 

And there's doctors and lawyers 

And business executives 

And they're all made out of ticky tacky 

And they all look just the same 

And they all play on the golf course 

And drink their martinis dry 

And they all have pretty children 

And the children go to school 

And the children go to summer camp 

And then to the university 

Where they are put in boxes 

And they come out all the same 

And the boys go into business 

And marry and raise a family 

In boxes made of ticky tacky 

And they all look just the same 

There's a pink one and a green one 

And a blue one and a yellow one 

And they're all made out of ticky tacky 

And they all look just the same.