I’m going to drop my angst-filled posts for a moment and step into the anti-war political arena. (All of sudden my blog has become very heavy. I’ll lighten things up as soon as I get my head sorted out.)

My husband and I listen to music in two very different ways. He listens to the melody and I listen to the lyrics. That’s why even if a song has a great tune, if the lyrics are utter crap, I have a hard time listening to it. The lyrics will annoy me until I turn it off in frustration.

I recently stumbled upon 009 Sound System’s song “Born to Be Wasted” on YouTube. There are two interpretations to this song: 1) Getting high on drugs, driving fast, living free and hard, getting your kicks, etc as a personal philosophy on how to live life. There are plenty of songs like this that speak to youth, and I find the concept shallow. Living fully, truthfully and passionately is extremely difficult, and I think, the much more noble and worthwhile journey. Drugs and fast cars are cop outs.

The second interpretation of the song as an anti-war message has much more significant meaning and actually makes the lyrics quite poetic and deeply meaningful. Here is a comment left on a lyrics site by Frantazle:

I think that this song refers to young kids being ‘wasted’ as in killed. The army gets them when they’re young and then shits them out.

As a song about drugs and fast living, the lyrics are generic. As a song about disposable soldiers, the lyrics are brilliant, sad and poignant. I couldn’t find an interview with Alexander Perls, the man who wrote and performed the song, so you will have to make your own interpretation. I’ve linked a homemade YouTube video from someone who took it as a war song, and the lyrics are below that.

oh the beat’s gonna bash gonna break it up
this car’s goin’ fast gonna speed it up
the night’s not gonna last so let’s keep it up
we were born to be wasted

oh the rock’s not gonna stop so let’s rip it up
the beats are gonna drop you can trip em’ up
your mind is on fire but it’s not enough
we were born to be wasted

baby out loud
knew that it would come to this
ain’t worth livin
if u can’t get your kicks

oh the rock’s not gonna stop so let’s rip it up
the beats are gonna drop you can trip em’ up
your mind is on fire but it’s not enough
we were born to be wasted

this gun’s blowin up it’s just a warning shot
this plane’s takin’ off on a terror run
this night’s gonna end like a missile drop
we were born to be wasted

Damian and Lily playing with toy swords
17 March 2011

My life is mundane as FUCK! There. I’ve said it. And I’ve said it with a big bold cuss word so that there is no misinterpretation of the sentiment or the intensity.

I know what a midlife crisis is now. I’ve found my true love. I have the two kids. I have the dogs and the SUV, and very shortly, I will have the 3000 square foot house with the white picket fence. I’ve done everything that we set out for ourselves as responsible and reliable adults, or at least what is expected of us as responsible and reliable adults that we buy into completely. It’s the stuff of movies.

But what happens after the housewife moves into the 3000 square foot house in the suburbs to care for the children and the home? The movie ends after the purchase of the dream home. And the only movies they make after the dream is achieved all concern disaffected, disillusioned housewives leaving their husbands and children to find their soul again in Italy.

My personal midlife crisis involves lack of romance and excitement, lack of personal belief or vision. My ego has been mined out and replaced with the needs of the family as a unit. Each day is a monotonous repeat of the previous day, filled with housework and childcare. Everyday is a thousand yesterdays.

And I want off this fucking train. But I don’t want to leave my husband and children or move to Italy (Nothing against Italy or the Italians — they are awesome. I can understand why Italy is always the chosen home for the resuscitation of the soul.)

I haven’t figured out the answer to this puzzle, but it requires a bold statement. A commitment of the magnitude that only children conceive of because they don’t know that it’s impossible. And their ignorance, naivety, and joy then make the impossible possible. The kind of dream that you lose in your teens or twenties when embarrassment and social understanding curb your faith, worth, and excitement.

I’m tired. I’m tired of hurting all of the time because I have abandoned an important part of myself to live the housewife American dream. Tonight I sketch out ideas of reclamation. Tonight I embrace the socially awkward, geeky, excited, ambitious, silly, awesome part of myself. Tonight I reclaim my ego.

I will let the photos speak for Photoshop.

The first photo is straight from the camera without any Photoshop manipulation:

Damian and Lily
17 March 2011

The second photo has been processed through the Photoshop Magic Machine:

Damian and Lily
17 March 2011

For those interested, I used a Brightness/Contrast layer with a gradient sunburst to create the darkened edges. Then another Brightness/Contrast layer to beef up the brightness and the contrast of the entire photo. And then finally, a Color Balance layer to add more blue into the photo. I use layers so I have more flexibility.

Photoshop rocks my world.

ps. Thank you to everyone for being so supportive of my blog. It’s very very very very kind and awesome of my family and friends to encourage me so actively. I am a lucky woman.