This will most certainly sound pretentious. Most often we think that we pick music, but every so often I think music picks us. Take Steve Winwood's "Back In The High Life."

If this song reminds me of anything, it reminds me of driving with the windows down with Dad in the old 3-series - and for some reason more particularly driving down Getz Rd in Fort Wayne, IN.

The last time I heard this song was June 18, 1996 (that probably isn't accurate).

While looking for Ryan Hood's Back Into Blue about two months ago (which by the way is impossible to find), I stumbled onto "Back In The High Life" on iTunes. Played the sample. Brought me back. Downloaded it.

Of course as a child I never really listened to the lyrics that closely. As I listened again, it was like listening for the first time. I was taken back by the opening lines.

It used to seem to me
That my life ran on too fast
And I had to take it slowly
Just to make the good parts last
But when you're born to run
It's so hard to just slow down
So don't be surprised to see me
Back in that bright part of town

I don't know about you, but for me I am not sure there is a song that describes life better.

The past three months have been back in the high life. I am now officially a pilot per the FAA. Started a beautiful relationship. Relaxed at night more with friends. Gone to the beach a few times. Climbed a "mountain" here in Georgia. Went to the Orchestra and the Theatre and the Braves game. Guest hosted the Allen Hunt Show. Ate great food. Spent time with great people.

It's strange how you have to fight for that sometimes. You'd think it would be easier to choose the "good parts." And maybe for most of you it is. But I find life almost naturally forces you to ignore the good parts. To keep pushing forward faster and faster even though your not sure what exactly your pushing forward towards.

I'll be writing a bit more now that pilot lessons are over and a few projects are out of the way. I know a lot has happened in the past couple of months. I need to admit I was wrong about my predictions regarding healthcare. I need to post my annual Presidental taxes blog. And I'll get to that. But for now, it's nice to be "back in the the bright part of town."


Photos of the past couple of months can be found here
Flight tracker of the piloting can be found here

It has been a frustrating couple of months.

It has been frustrating in almost every arena.

And for this reason, no more will be said, even though writing about it would be incredibly therapeutic.

These of course are probably not real problems per se. I mean after all, I have food on the table and a roof over my head. To quote Susan Isaacs in Angry Conversations With God: these would be middle class white girl boy problems.

But also as she said, these are still my middle class white girl boy problems. Thus making the frustration still real.

This is probably why I haven't been motivated to write recently (it's been almost a month since I wrote anything of real substance). I don't feel like writing anything contentious because I am sick of conflict. I don't want to write anything about my life because, well, frankly I shouldn't due to some of the readership here.

So instead I do nothing.

Last night after the show, Justin and I went to the Drunken Unicorn in the Highlands to shoot an interview of a band opening for William Elliott Whitmore. Even though we weren't going for William, I was pleasantly surprised by his music.

It isn't really a genre I like, but his lyrics resonated with me a lot in that small music club reeking of smoke and whisky.

Particularly the song Take It On The Chin. The recorded version doesn't really do what I heard last night justice. Maybe William had more whisky and his voice was scratchier. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was the acoustics. I don't know. I do know the live version was longer as I stood there suspended taking in what I was listening to.



Two parts struck a large chord.

He said life is a battle and it ain't even fair
but if you stay up in your saddle,
you're already halfway there

Adding to these lyrics would probably take away from their depth, so I'll let them speak for themseleves.

I'll always be behind you son

The relationships that stand behind us no matter what are truly rare and important. It certainly makes the valley's of life harder when they are not within proximity.

I usually pride myself on my ultra-independence. But I freely admit, that independence has been devalued within me a bit over the past couple of months. I find myself questioning many of the pursuits I once held at the top, and longing to just be around those who would be right behind me as I'd take it on the chin.

So after a 10-hour work day, and the frustrations of 3 months building, listening to the works of William Elliott Whitmore with a hundred or so others was surprisingly and exceedingly reassuring to me.

If you knew your death was imminent - like within minutes - and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it, what do you think you would do?

Would you freak out?

Would you pray? Especially for forgiveness?

Would you try and call loved ones? Which ones?

What if you couldn't contact anyone?

For some reason I think about this when I fly. Not with any morbid panic, "we're all going to die" mindset. But just in a subdued fact of reality that it could happen.

I know what I would do. I would grab the iPhone and pull up I Can Only Imagine. I am not usually a big fan of Christian music, but I Can Only Imagine is great simply because it has no answers, just one open-ended statement-question: I Can Only Imagine?



If I had an extra couple of minutes I would probably pull up one more: Brooke White's performance of Let It Be on American Idol. I often listen to this after I have had a really bad day. It is incredibly calming.

.

Other close contenders were Come What May the Moulin Rouge version and Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World.

I think I would also try and get off one quick text message - hoping that I would get cell coverage before impact. It would probably go to Allen - strange I know - but I don't know anyone who empathetically, but helpfully breaks bad news to people better than him.

It would read:
Going down. All is well. Tell all I love them, not to be angry, and to keep living life to the fullest

It wouldn't be long, and I wouldn't send out more than one. I'd get that off, sit back, and let the moment of worship take me into eternity - whatever that may be.

I don't really know why I blogged about this today. Maybe it was last night's show. It just came to my mind for some reason and I figured I would share. That's what I would hope for in my final moments, what do you think you would do?