Taylor Swift, revealed

 

   There are certain things I'm deliberately doing to try to stay young. You, too?
     Some are those brain exercises you get at sites like Lumosity, where they lead your brain to the edge of its elasticity and then let it snap back with a thwack. You can remember where 7 squares are, but 8? It's like your brain runs out of the room, hair on fire, when you get to 8. The game essentially says, kindly, "Let's go back to 7, shall we?" Then, since you got so stressed out at 8, you can no longer do 7, and it says, "How about...6? No? How about 5. Can you remember where we put 5 measly things?"
     Laura and I had one of those stark experiences of how worn our brain's elastic is when we played "The Transformation Game" with Ting and Dave last weekend. This is a board game I recently purchased, and it has what seem to Laura and me like rules based on quantum physics (that's a thing, right?). We were referring to the instruction manual every step of the way, like it was for kitchen cupboards from IKEA. But Ting and Dave were whizzing through, reciting the convoluted rules that were brand new to all of us. The difference was that the rules remained brand new to Laura and me each time it was our turn. Dave and Ting would say, "Okay, so now you take 2 awareness cards, take away one pain card from the player of your choice, and then flip the intuition coin to see if you can get an angel token or if you take another pain card." The only card I memorized was the "miracle card," where everyone could return all their pain cards to the box. It was a miracle, all right.
     So the brain thing is a real challenge. I'm also trying to keep limber with physical things: I'm determined to put on my shoes and socks while standing, for example, as long as I can. No sitting on the bed for me; no sir. And lately I've been focusing on getting up from any non-standing position -- sitting in a chair, lying on the floor or in bed, cross-legged for meditation -- without using my hands or arms. Sometimes this is mildly comical, certainly to the gods watching from afar. "Watch this. She's been in bed for 6 hours and she's going to get up without hands or elbows. I love this part."
    The socks and shoes are still easy. I'm aiming for 80 years old, still good on one foot. After that, I'll try to be okay with sitting on the bed.
    But contradictory to these habits, I'm also making some deliberate choices to stay out of the fray, to allow myself to be behind the times. It's an exercise both in keeping my brain young and letting my mind age, too. In a good way.            
     Some of this happens organically, right? Do you know the most popular singing groups these days? Heard any hit music lately? Suddenly you can't even figure out how everyone hears about these things, though I know it just...happens somehow, when you're young.
     When I blogged about thinking that a Kardashian was a kind of a rug, people thought I was joking. You overestimate my engagement in the world of current events. Once that bubble burst and I learned that a Kardashian is actually a person, maybe one that is pregnant by someone else whose name I should probably know, I needed another exercise. I tried assiduously, then, not to learn who Taylor Swift is, despite obvious social pressure to know who the heck people are talking about. It's a cognitive exercise for me; I was trying to keep track of 8 hidden things, and Taylor Swift was one of them. I was pretty sure Taylor Swift was a man, and I wanted to see how long I could go without finding out if that was right or wrong. I understood that s/he sings, but I didn't know what kind of music -- country? I pictured a cowboy hat.
     I told the kids about this project to stay out of the fray du jour, to experience that sense of being out of current loops. They promised not to tell me whether Taylor Swift was a man or a woman; they're so supportive of me and my projects.
     Then, on a long drive while listening to a playlist Yani put on my phone, I hear a nice song. I sing along; it's come up on shuffle a few times before. Oooh, I knew you were trouble when you walked innnnnn...I'm singing along, bouncing from head voice to chest voice in that fun way that makes you feel happy and yodelly. I decide to replay it so I can yodel again, driving along the Mass Pike. I look down at the phone for a second to rewind the song, and there is a picture of the singer: WTF? Taylor Swift? He sings in falsetto and in drag?! 
     That I did not see coming.

the old way was too lonely

     Every now and then, you actually hear a voice. It's coming from within your head, I guess, but you'd swear it was outside you. I feel like this happens maybe once every few years, for me -- the experience of feeling as though someone standing close by has just spoken. It's alarming. Usually it's just been "hello," or maybe a clear as day "paula."
     Then, nothing. It's like someone has said "Marco" right into your ear, and though you try your best to say "Polo! Polo! Polo!" they're gone. They just felt like spooking you and taking off.
     A couple of months ago, I heard that kind of voice. It woke me from what felt like a solid sleep. I don't even say "deep sleep" anymore. Anyone remember deep sleep? Evolution is still trying to work out that knot; either you wake up for a quiet "Mom?" or you get deep sleep. Let's make it so they wake up to the offspring who is having a bad dream or about to ralph, Evolution says (but not right into your ear). For years I've tried explaining to Evolution that the kids are not sleeping here anymore. They've moved out! I am ready for some deep sleep, I tell it. But Evolution does not give a whit. "You on you own, missy, " it says, with a bit of an urban, kick ass tone. Evolution can be cold, and I tell it so, often. It does not care. Not a bit, after you have somewhat successfully cared for your young.
     Actually, Evolution doesn't speak at all. Evolution is mute and stealth. Still, it manages to get its point across. Give it time; it's making some kind of point. A good time to think about this is while you are lying awake at night.
     But there is something with a voice. Now and then there is a voice. One March morning, the presence standing over me as I slept said, aloud and firmly: "The old way was too lonely."
     I was up. Like a flip book missing some pages, I was up. Hullo? What old way? What was I doing wrong? Too lonely for what? Come back!
     I've done nothing differently since then. I don't know what is being asked of me, given me, what is trying to guide me, or what the objectionable part of the "old way" even was. But I have felt distinctly unlonely of late.
     It's like without knowing it, without even knowing I needed something, I had said, "Mom?" into the night. And Something had said, "Right here. Always right here." Maybe Evolution is just a lackey; it has to answer to something bigger.
   
   

squeeze me

     As long as I can remember, I've had a recurring fantasy that strikes me at odd times. My family is used to hearing me state variations on its premise:
     A group of strangers are gathered in a large room. They have to figure out the one thing they have in common before they are released.
     "What if you put everyone who was terrified as a kid of that movie with the guy with his eyelids held open by toothpicks into the same room?"
     "What if you put everyone who has in the last week bought a plunger, kale, and nectarines into the same room?"
     "What if you put everyone who lost a ring while swimming in a lake into the same room?"
     "What if you put everyone who thinks "irregardless" is correct into the same room?" Gee, that would need to be a really, really big room. Maybe we narrow it down to people who think it's correct and who happen to use it a lot, like habitually. It'd be tough to figure that one out! They'd really have to think hard to see the problem, then find the commonality. You'd need to bring in food.

     Certain ones would probably give just the right amount of challenge.
     "What if you put everyone in a room who, like, think it's hilarious that they always say 'squeeze me' instead of 'excuse me'?" It'd be pretty crowded, but because it was so crowded they'd all start saying 'squeeze me,' just trying to move around the room. Except...it'd be almost entirely guys, probably almost entirely straight guys, who would feel weird about saying 'squeeze me' to each other. Suddenly it's not so funny any more, is it, bud. This is actually a good one; a good challenge.
     The easiest, of course, would be to put all of us who have this fantasy into one big room. Oh, sweet. We'd be set free in no time at all, but we'd never want to leave.