Shawn Songs

Thursday mornings sound kinda like Shawn Colvin songs coming down through recessed bass-free ceiling cans. Her voice intermittent between broken announcements.

"…Discussing the role of Mary…"

"...She didn't believe in transcendence …"

"…remind you that Heidelberg is a women's only dormitory…"

"...came home with a vengeance…"

"… dog training class in the back of the store is complimentary…"

Eleven years have come full circle through the sound of a woman's voice. The ring overhead plays out while I wait in a lobby twirling a dog cone on my finger.

Eleven years of Thursdays ago I lay napping between Greek Grammar and Interpersonal Communication. I think the nap may have been the most valuable part of the day. Yesterday I waited on a dog. That was the most important part of that day, I assure you.

Cosmo's sutures were being removed, and he's lost his cone. It forces a moment to pause. A moment listen to Shawn Colvin again. Oh, she hadn't gained any new profound advice over time, but she was a soothing voice from my past. A voice coming through college radio speakers, reminding me of another time when I had no time--only motion.

Back then I talked to MyPookie over late night phone calls, and got up for crack o' dawn class, before stumbling through a day and 20 units while sneaking in 2 jobs and 1 internship. I was a busy boy. They called me Scruffy Smurf and Fraggle Rob because haircuts and shaves were for free people with free time.

If I had free time, it was only enough to sneak in a nap between morning classes. I was the radio station manager, and nobody was ever on-air for morning shifts. I'd drop Shawn Colvin in the CD tray, throw down my backpack pillow on the lobby, and drift away an hour .

Shawn would sing about other people, other problems, other lives. Sang the same CD every morning and every morning she sang of people hunkering down and breaking free. Even when she cried about 84,000 different delusions, she cried with the comfort of a warm blanket and a soft pillow.

Thursday mornings I needed just that.

Yesterday's Thursday I sat stationary because I couldn't move. Somebody had shackled my feet to a different lobby where I awaited my repaired dog. The last 2 days had been full. Two days of Bible study, work, and dog. Two days too busy to blog.

It wasn't spectacular busy blog skipping, it was just the day to day of cramming 20 units of work into one day of life. That may have been the biggest lesson I took from college. The other lesson was Shawn Colvin.

Shawn Colvin and writing.

I think that hurt the worst. The last couple of days and no real writing, just clocking a page for pay. Just like my dog and his ear, I felt something wasn't right. I itched without the means to scratch. I love writing. I love my blog. I just didn't have time. So I made up for it the best way I could: I pulled my polished brown nose from the grindstone and looked up other people's blogs for a change. I listened instead of spoke.

I heard Shawn sing. I read other's write. Did you know that somebody's humpty had a great fall, while another nurturer cradled a great secret? When did these things happen? How did I miss them? I've been busy. I'd been blogging.

Still, I don't feel guilty. I mean I was sad, but what could I do? Even if I dropped everything and became unbusy, who would that help? I read with the glory of discovery. I'd taken a moment to find out, to breathe, for somebody else--for them.

Life is that liquid balance between steady motion and Shawn Colvin. We need motion to live, but Shawn to understand. She may not be the most profound vocalist, but she belongs to those moments we need to break and understand our lives through others.

So I am sorry I didn't blog for the last few days. I was busy. I do promise it was for the better though. If you don't like it, blame Cosmo. Blame Shawn.