I went home for a few days. Guilderland is still home, even though I haven't actually lived there for nine years now. As a former coworker of mine once said, "Wherever your mom is, is home."
I've been thinking a lot about home lately. Probably because of my multiple moves in a short time span. Like animals, we want a little space where we feel safe, where we feel we are supposed to be. My car is a nuisance to still own, but I cling to it, perhaps for its familiarity, my little chunk of space where I can be.
Or that it could take me somewhere I can be. Or away from somewhere I can't be anymore.
Mostly I keep it because I have this idea that when my album comes out, I will drive around the country in it, playing music and selling CDs. Maybe I can get the car company to sponsor me and make it " Honda Civic's Casey Dinkin National Tour."
But paying for the car until the hypothetical tour commences might have my negative impact on my ability to tour at all.
Ahhh, life's conundrums.
When I was home I was once again blown away by my mother's ability to get more done in a day than I do in three days. She is just go go go all the time. It makes my head spin. I can learn songs and write songs quickly and that's about it for my "quick" repertoire.
"How do you do so much?" I ask her. She replies (without looking at me, of course, because she is in the middle of doing something), "I just do things. I don't spend lots of time thinking about them; I just do them."
I will never be like that. It used to make me feel like a failure at life, because I couldn't check check check off the to-do list like my mom, because I agonized over arguably small decisions, and sat on tasks that could be completed in a relatively short amount of time.
But I realize now that this is connected to the rest of me. My head is frequently in the clouds, but the clouds are the studio space where I write my songs and work on music. Like yesterday, I was walking to B & H photo in midtown, to bring my malfunctioning video recorder in for a check-up. Instead of paying attention to where I was going, or even taking a minute to look up the address of the place, I walked around in my cloud studio space, learning the new Joni Mitchell song I've decided to cover, and by the time I finally got to B & H, the place was closed.
I know a lot of songs, though. And I've written a lot of songs. (Of course, I could share more of them with you if I had a working video recorder!)
Maybe I'm not as bad as I make myself out to be. I mean, I function. I have had jobs and been productive in endeavors unrelated to learning and writing songs. I get through life. But like everyone else, I suppose, I'm better at some things than others. And some things, often things that seem like they should be very simple, are a real struggle.
So I will spend months and months thinking about selling my car, pro and conning myself in circles, while paying State Farm in case of any accident which occurs while my car spends 98% of its time in a fenced lot down in yonder Brooklyn.
I should probably just sell it. But then there would be no Honda Civic tour.
I can't do it at the moment, anyway, because the car currently contains almost all of the possessions I will be moving tomorrow to my new
And I'm almost done learning that Joni Mitchell song. It's beautiful.