Soul Provider

I was making some mix CDs for a friend today. I was going through stacks of my own mix CDs looking for the right combination of songs that he would like.

On three separate CDs, I found Michael Bolton's "Soul Provider." I liked that song, but I did not know I had put it on three different compilations.

That song always makes me smile. It reminds me of my first job as a program director at a small town radio station in Iowa. It was 1989. I had been unemployed for about 3 months, and am not proud to say, living on handouts from my parents. I had moved to Iowa from Texas to take the job.

"Soul Provider" was a big hit on the radio at the time. And since I was in radio and we played that song, I heard it several times every day.

I wonder what it is about those memories that give me a good feeling. I certainly did not want to take that job.
Sure, it was exactly the type of job I wanted, but it was in the wrong place. It would mean moving away from my friends and everything I knew as familiar. I had lived in Iowa before, but not for about 9 years.

Plus I have never been the type to boldly strike out into the unknown. And that is exactly what I was doing. With other jobs that I had started, I had something familiar to go back to at the end of the day. At the end of my work day there, I would find my way back to an unfamiliar apartment in an unfamiliar town.

But the strain of all these things are not the memories I have. When I hear that song, I have only good memories.
They are memories of good feelings. Things were "right" in my world. Things were "correct." Instead of trepidation of the unknown and remorse for the things left behind, I remember the anticipation of starting the career I had always wanted. It was my first step in that direction and I was positive that only good things were to come.

I stayed there for a year. About 13 months after I was hired, I was laid off, replaced due to new management. The job itself was not the ideal position that I thought it would be. I struggled constantly as the job was not a good fit for me. There were many times that I had no clue of what I was supposed to do and was in situations that I did not know how to handle. I was so incompetent in many aspects of the job. My memories are vivid of the times I wanted to just hide because I was so helpless to understand what the correct action to take was.

But as I write this and try to understand why I liked that year, the positive memories are strong. Even though I felt overworked and underpaid, I had the chance to go to Chicago once each month to see my friend who was in seminary there. The mere fact that I could go to the big city once every 4 weeks was great. And my friend and I built memories in that year that we still cherish. So that year brought us much closer than we were previously.

I was also free. I spent my time exploring the local area and taking pictures. I volunteered for several shows at a nearby community theatre. Though I was never a wild single and definitely not a partier, I relished the time that I had to do as I wished.

Maybe the song is life's way of allowing me to hang on to the good experiences from that year and to let the unfortunate circumstances go.

Little Blue Icon--The Muse

The muse has been calling me. The muse can take any form she chooses. Lately she takes the form of the little blue icon at the bottom of the computer screen. Notepad. That's her, all right.

The notepad icon chases my dreams.

Most nights it doesn't even wait for sleep. It invades my thoughts as my head finds the pillow.
Why notepad? Notepad is simple. She knows she's being unpretentious. She has no fancy fonts to distract me. None of the latest programming in software can get in my way of what she wants me to do. She is blue. That could be a ploy too. But mostly she is just simple.

She also thinks that if she is simple the rest will appear simple too. The words will simply come out. The words that rattle around all day can easily be committed. There is no chance that something is going to be lost due to lack of memory.

The muse is using every tool she has available.

She knows what I want. She knows what stands in the way. She calls me. She continues to call.
She is smug. The blue icon is open. The fingers are typing.

She knows she won.