Midnight Caller

On perhaps the most unsettling day I've had in a long time, I resorted to watching an episode of 'Midnight Caller' to settle my nerves.  What a show that was.  I used to watch it on a tiny TV in my old room, seemingly lifetimes ago, as a little comfort in the midst of a world where I didn't belong.  The cliché of a soft voice, a sympathetic ponderer, scripted to say profound things, in reply to callers, such as: 

Caller:  "We gotta fight fire with fire!" 

Jack Killian:  "What happens when everything burns down, Joe?  Think about that",

was soothing to a girl who had no idea how life would pan out.  I had no piano or hope of ever playing one in those days.  No understanding of how people end up finding an area of life where they fit in.

Oddly enough, I feel like I still haven't really found that.  At least, I haven't settled into a sustainable, rewarding way of life.  So it was nice to wrap myself up in an old comfort blanket like this again.  It felt familiar, though very old.  I suppose it was the closest I got today to feeling 'at home'.

And, of course, the smooth, but sensitive guy that Jack Killian is, he always rounds off a situation at the end of the show, lamenting a lost friend or some kind of injustice that couldn't be overturned, in a slow and thoughtful manner.  He then signs off with the ultimate classic (or cliché, depending on your tolerance level) "Good night America.  Wherever you are."  

Those were in the days when you actually watched something on TV.  Once.  I didn't even have a video recorder of my own then.  And there was no You Tube.  So the radio show sign-off within the TV show episode was the end of my viewing.  I didn't switch to another channel.  It was late and there'd be nothing else worth watching anyway.  (I know, I know, this was hardly worth watching either...) So I had those words resonate in my ears while the theme tune played and I reached over to turn the TV off.

So in my day of ups and downs, of various email responses, (most with nothing hopeful to report, with one redeeming, glowing exception...) I suppose I must sign off in my own little melancholic and ponderous way.  A long and thankless day awaits me tomorrow, but I've learnt to pull back from letting it push me to the edge and just admit to myself I can't do everything.  There are some people who really do not deserve my diligence and focus, so for once, they shall not have it.  I will merely show up and 'do what I can'.

As for those of you who have taken the time to read this, please know how grateful I am that you are 'out there', and let me indulge in one closing, Midnight Caller-like signing off, 

'Good night ,,čtenáři", wherever you are.'

Clichés, wishes and motorbikes

Today has been a lesson in stating clearly what you need.  I'm not usually very good at this.  Mainly because I loathe the word 'needs' and cannot reconcile myself with relying on anyone.  However, I have had to resolve to ask for what I actually need, for once, instead of putting forward the polite, edited version and I'm awaiting the barrage of emails of complaint as a result tomorrow.  But if you don't ask, you don't get, right?  So far that has definitely proved to be true in about 80% of cases.

I've had enough of burning the candle at both ends to find I don't even have any matches left, let alone a candle, so we're reaching rock bottom here.  But Spring really might be on its way and I have a few wishes.  If I send them out into the ether, maybe one or two might get answered?

Here are my top 5:

1) I'd really like more than 5 or 6 hours' sleep every night.

2) Give me some time to do music again.  Please.

3) Let all those people who've been ill recently be ok again.

4) Let those who crave fine, Italian ice-cream (or Magnums of the classic or white chocolate variety, when your options are limited) get them in abundance.

5) Let me be able to run away with the architect very soon, preferably on his motorbike and with some kind of sunset involved, just for sheer fulfilment of a cliché.  (I actually got to rev up his bike today, and I really rather enjoyed it.)  

Perhaps some clichés are worth wishing for.