Musing Interruptus

Today on Musing Interruptus, we have a special guest. Listen or watch as Renée Valentina interviews Tom Vasquez. They talk about life, death, taxes, music, success, and more.

The idiomatic expressions are added as subtitles. Can you guess their meaning from the context? Look them up to see if you are right.

Thank you for listening. What makes you tick? I'm listening

Hello, Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The background music is called Charcoal Lines by Blue Dot.

Today, Quick, A Distraction!

Once I heard a psychoanalyst say that not everyone will feel better or freer after working on their traumas. There are things we have to learn to live with. That seems true about many things. And, it is our job to make the most of the time we have. While we decide what is the best use of our time, we might want to free up our thoughts.  What better way than by not paying attention? Avoidance!  A magician uses sleight of hand to fool you. Why not cut out the middleman and take care of it yourself?

You can do a great many things to create a distraction from your thoughts!  Evasion is the easiest thing to do. You can pretend everything is ok, repress, repress, repress. A great illusion of control. Drugs are fun. Medicinally of course. Antidepressants, uppers, downers, dissociatives. However, the consequences they have can be prolonged, creating a bigger problem in the end. 

If you lose your head, you will probably create havoc and commotion, that makes a mess!!! Then you have to clean it up. There you go, a double distraction for you. 

My mother would say, find something to do! There is always something to do. Being bored is a sign of low intelligence. You need to be able to entertain yourself. Whatever the measure of my intelligence, I was sure to never let on that I could be bored out of fear of being labeled - unintelligent-. So, you can see, coming up with ideas is part and parcel of surviving my mother. The ultimate voice in my head. With her there, I could never be bored anyway.

If you insist on outside stimulation and distractions, there are thousands of things to do. Take a walk and bump into neighbors, you’ll get some distractions. People are always happy to talk about their dog’s personalities. Which are projections of their own personalities. So, you can see the fun in that. If you are wondering about my dog Penny, which I’m sure you are, I’m happy to tell you that she is sweet and rabid, with a hidden intelligence and beauty that grows on you. Her charisma has no parallels. Many have described her as being verbose and charmingly cocky. 

Now that you have come back from your walk and mapped out the houses of the crazies, the narcissists, manics, depressives, and the potentially sociopathic, you might be inclined to venture out a bit further. Consider paying someone to distract you. You can go the professional route. Nobody gets hurt at the movies. Unless you get emotionally invested. It is all about someone else’s story, maybe even fantasy. The cool thing is, once the lights come back on, you can stop feeling. The act of suspending disbelief has concluded. You can go back to your life. If you are smart, you go to the movies with someone else and have coffee afterward to talk about every last detail. There you go, a double distraction, double points for you! I’m going to start calling you Distracticon. The next best thing is soap operas. Those are stories histrionically acted out for you, with background music that tells you how to react or what to anticipate, just in case you get distracted from the story. Again, a double distraction. This is too easy, Distracticon!

Some great stories come from late nights of music, drinking, and other stuff. Continue reading

Hello. I’m Renée Valentina. Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The background music is called Castor Wheel Pivot by Blue Dot.

Today, The Not So Private Place.

Lavatory or lav, for short stays, the powder room,  you can guess what kind of powder we are talking about according to the decade, restroom or comfort station, toilet, washroom, water closet or WC, the crapper (although it is people doing the evacuating and no the place), crap room and urine room might be more appropriate, the John, which puts me off Johns in general, the latrine, for a more outdoorsy experience. In British English, the loo and the bog, the dunny in Australian English, that seems about right to me, the cludgie in northern England and Scotland. The porcelain throne, the can, the privy if you are feeling like a fancy evacuation is coming up, rather, exiting, the little boy's room or little girls' room (although that makes me uncomfortable), potty has the same effect on me, the head in military or naval contexts, the facilities when you are hoping for something exquisitely sterile, the gents/ the ladies. Is it a portable toilet? Are you in the US? You might call it the honey wagon. Which immediately puts me off honey, why oh why? The Commode. The pot, as in shit or get off the pot. The outhouse is self-explanatory, the ladies' room, the women’s room, the men’s room. 

Whichever word or phrase you use to refer to -that place- we all do most of the same things there: 

You might catch up on your shampoo bottles, magazines, books, and Kindles, posts on FB, Instagram, and Threads, reading is a popular option while sitting on the throne. Perhaps you enjoy scrolling on TikTok. Many are writers and enjoy catching up on their correspondence and text messages, I wonder if anybody still uses ICQs. I wouldn’t mind the uh oh sound there.  It seems to be a very productive place. Be careful, apparently, staying on the pot too long can cause sciatica, it can weaken the pelvic floor, and cause pelvic organ prolapse and even anal fissures. We should all be taking a squat according to 2003’s Digestive Diseases and Sciences journal. So in the words of our dearly departed Ernesto, be ready to use the restroom and evacuate efficiently.

I have had some great ideas in the shower. Something about massaging my head with shampoo moves my thoughts. Alright, not all the ideas I get there are great. Still, I bet most people think in that room.

Regarding public availability and use of the facilities. There has been a recent push to stop making distinctions based on gender and which John you get to use. These are bathroom politics. That is a very public thing to do in such a private place. 

Some people smoke in the bathroom, find refuge from the harshness of the world, and cry on the porcelain throne or in the shower while they are taking care of hygiene, like grown-ups. It is efficient to do at least two things at the same time. Continue reading

Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The music is called Iowana by Blue Dot.

Hello, Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Today's episode Loved Today, Conned Tomorrow.

A charlatan can give you a run for your money, I mean, if they are any good at what they do. The conartist wannabe is not intelligent enough to run a play to completion. I have a feeling that they are the ones who resort to a stickup. Ultimately, they both rob you blind.

I wonder how many times I’ve been conned. You think you are smart until you get taken to the cleaners and I don’t mean by my clothing. It is embarrassing. Sometimes people get feelings from you, others they get money. What’s that about? Like vampires, except they are people, so, "vampirepeople".  

There was this one guy who told me he was related to Pancho Villa, the Mexican Revolutionary Hero. His ID said “Francisco Villa”. As soon as I saw the last name, I knew he was conning me. Well played with the approach, he certainly caught my attention. It’s a shame for him that Pancho Villa was only a moniker. As far as I know, his real name was José Doroteo Arango Arámbula. That being said, I'm not that intelligent. 

My IQ is that of the kind of person who ends up buying stuff at a tourist trap. Not once, not twice. IQ dumb-dumb. It’s alright. I’ve made my peace with it. I’d rather be honest with myself and say, my IQ sure makes God smile. If I had to guess, I was part of the placebo group. I know I smile a lot. It’s alright.  I think I was just conned into being politically incorrect by my alter ego. It was an inside job. Get it?

The bottom line is that I’m smart enough to know how smart I am and where I fit in the grand scheme of things.

In some situations, easy prey. That's why I try to be careful, and keep a low profile. It is a jungle out there. I know that if the right intellect comes along, I’m a goner. We all need to know our limits and be about our wits to either avoid or realize we are being played. Even if you aren’t that smart, the truth find a way of coming out in the end. I don’t think there is an eternal con. I might be wrong. This certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Most times people want to trick you out of your money, either because you give it to them or because you are persuaded to do things. Other times it is your attention and feelings. I think I prefer being conned for my money. 

I like movies about cons. I like how we, as the audience, are confident we know what the plan is, we even have the timing down, and some of us even hold our breaths at key moments. We are convinced that we wouldn’t have been duped by such a transparent scheme. That is how it is written. But once we see the execution, we learn we were kept in the dark about a key aspect of the job. Plot twist! All of a sudden we realize we could have been conned as well. Some writers have the gal to show you a recap of the elements that were in plain sight that you missed. In the movies it is great. When it happens in real life, it is simply indignant and you might even feel ashamed because you weren’t smart enough to see the signs. It is not so easy to keep your composure. Continue Reading

Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The background music is called Inspector D by Blue Dot

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Hello, Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Today we go all the way with Eurythmic’s Here Comes the Rain Again. 

Why do I listen to sad songs? Why do I turn them up, put them on repeat, looping my feelings creating a melancholic haze? Cerati says you play sad songs to feel better. Ponés canciones tristes para sentirte mejor. His tone pokes fun at the logic. Or maybe that is a projection of my own mistrust when sharing my sadness. Misery loves company. 

It feels good to know that an experience is shared, even if it is a confirmation that as unique as this feeling presents itself, the person interpreting the notes with their instruments and their voice, echo it, they echo your soul’s pleas organized on a staff, with rhythm, a chorus and a bridge. I like the imagery that songs offer, accompanied by feelings. We do it together, the artists and the listeners. You play the music the way you feel it, I feel it and it all adds to our collective consciousness or at least to pop culture. 

To my favorite singers and songwriters, the melody, harmony, and rhythm, the notes you choose to use, and your interpretation of the lyrics tap into my soul and nurture it. I live for the nuances in how you enunciate and hit each note. 

“Here Comes the Rain Again” by Eurythmics is a mother of a song, like many, it is a song that could not be contained or kept from the public. It needed to exist. I remember listening to this song in the car as a child, in the back seat. You can’t grow up with this music and not love words and music and wonder. Is it raining with you? The core question to understand, to confirm if there is love on the other end of the anguish one feels when you are in love. It’s like Shroedinger’s love affair. There might be love, there might not. If it is raining with you, it is alive. Confirm it by talking to me like lovers do. It is raining for me, is it raining for you? What a beautiful way to express longing, desire, and the utter melancholy and solitude of being in love, and the way it washes over you, an equalizer in the sense that everyone gets wet in the rain (that works on many levels), even if you have an umbrella and galoshes, you will feel the effects of the rain. I’d rather get caught in the rain and get soaked through from running, the drops tearing down my face, camouflaging my tears, than hide away. What a joy to fall in love. Eurythmics tells it that way, describing the freedom and lunacy that falling in love brings… As uncontrollable as a summer storm. You can run and hide from it or stand in the middle of it and hope lightning strikes. Sting’s umbrella is big enough, he says, yet he always gets wet—another guy who uses the rain analogy for love or falling in love. Until I stand corrected, that is my story. 

“Here it comes again” expresses a premonition; scratch that, it is much more than a premonition; she sees the signs: the rain is coming again. This is not the first time it has happened; she has felt this several times. It might feel like a new emotion, but there is nothing new about it. She knows the devastation it brings. She can feel the melancholy coming; this is not a love affair that will materialize. She expresses what she wishes to happen, her desire. The truth she hasn’t come to terms with fully is that if you have to ask, the answer is probably no. 

“Here comes the rain again, raining in my head like a tragedy, tearing me apart like a new emotion.” She knows this is not a song about the consummation of love; it is a... Continue reading

Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The music is called Lechuza By Blue Dot

Howdy. Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. The balance between goods over harms can help to evaluate if a decision was worth the trouble. I wonder when is a good time to do this. Evidently, when you are amidst loss, there is a lack of clarity. It’s on my mind today, Was It Worth It? 

Experiences that stem from our decisions are part of our makeup. Our traits, temperament, problem-solving abilities, openness, or closed-offness result from our experiences and how we face them. The good, the bad, the ugly. Success, failure, loss. Any experience, within reasonable bounds (excluding violence and harm) should be an addition to who we are. Our past has made us, but shouldn’t define us. In that light, it seems like it was worth it, no matter what it was. The decisions we make are the stuff of life’s classroom. I think we are supposed to be grateful for all the lessons we have learned. However, screw that shit, when it hurts, nothing feels worth it. On the contrary, when things don’t go the way you thought they would, how you planned them, or according to your well-informed projections the only thing that crosses my mind is CURSES and I want a do-over or at least, crawl into bed and never come out again, because this is complete and utter toilet! … CURSES!

Was it worth it? I don’t know. When things don’t go my way I say, no! And I accept that sometimes I make bad decisions. And maybe I don’t care to find the silver lining or the lesson. Why can’t this just be time wasted in vain! Poor decision-making happens when I stop listening to my intuition or make a decision based on an impulse. Then again, I would be lying if I didn’t say how much I enjoy those impulses. Still, the crappy feeling when things don’t go the way I expect when I’m on the losing end of the negotiation, the loss that opens a kind of withdrawal syndrome. Withdrawal from the high I got from expectation and anticipation of success. When it doesn’t work out, apparently, you have to just let that pass, let it go.

Was it worth it? I suppose your response will depend on what stage you are at in the process and if you have won or lost. In the beginning, what do you have to lose? In the middle, you are still building towards something it is still wait and see. Yet, once you reach the outcome, you must bask in the joy and pride of accomplishment or wallow in the dread, shame, and disappointment of failure. The aftertaste will most definitely affect your perspective. 

Was it worth it? Investing your savings and losing them when the market turned? Putting your heart out there and watching it explode in slow motion like Ralph Wiggum’s on the Simpsons when Lisa breaks his heart. Like an atomic blast that makes mushroom waves. For Lord Tennyson “'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all..” Does the same apply to an investment gone belly up? Your takeaway from one of those situations is — Now you know! You didn’t know before, and now you know. 

Popular wisdom and toxic positive thinking would have you believe that you should never feel pain or loss or grief. Find the fucking silver lining or you are failing. Tell me, what is the takeaway from this? What diploma do I get for going through this loss? What certification level do I have now? If you don’t get it, then you are like the kid who was too slow to get any candy after the piñata was busted open by the kid with the most repressed anger. Who happens to be the fastest at getting all the best candy. Continue Reading

Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The music is called Bangolet by Blue Dot

Hey, how ya doin’? Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Today, Do You Know What Makes You Lovable? This question comes from a beloved listener. I think this is a great question. Thank you, Owl.

This is what I have come up with, more questions than answers. I’ll leave the rest to you. 

A job interview requires a profound knowledge of self, our strengths, and our areas of opportunity (which I think is a total euphemism, but let’s stay positive, shall we?). As I was saying, an interview requires us to present our best self. In class, we work on talking points, crafting our speech to make it clear and as winning as possible. We must have evidence of what we are saying, you’ve got to back ti up. We are used to looking for the facts; I’ve done this, and here are my results. Aren’t I spectacular? Can’t you see me doing amazing things for your company? We offer words to create images of possibility and success. I hardly believe anyone goes into an interview saying: 

I have good days, but on my worst days, it takes everything I have to get out of bed. I wish I had made other decisions. I will give the bare minimum if I feel you don’t appreciate me and the work I do. If I sniff out you are exploitative, I’ll silently quit on you. 

Frankly, I love it when people are that upfront with me in any circumstance, even if it doesn’t feel that good. It is always better to know where you stand with someone. In case you have any doubts. The information you are given or find out allows you to recalibrate your expectations and even the relationship. That is great. But that is not what I’ve come to share, and furthermore, ask you… 

Do you know what makes you lovable? By now, we should have this down. This information should be readily available and top of mind. Love starts from within, doesn’t it? 

Some might say, what is there not to love? Look at me!!! I’m adorable. 

I don’t know what percentage of the population is capable of that. However, for the rest, there might be a measure of humility, and for others that might be overdone and fall into the category of self-deprecation. Information on what makes you lovable should be even clearer to you than the information you present at an interview. In case you don’t have an answer, I have a suggestion.

Consider starting in a space where you are alone with your thoughts, fears, and desires. Observe yourself. Consider appreciating your body for the joy it brings you, the pleasure you feel when getting caught in the rain or under the covers, and how it feels to come up with ideas. The warmth you feel when you do something you love. What if you pay attention to your skin and everything that goes on under it, from your ticklish feet to your tingling brain. Consider the thoughts that make you giggle and even laugh out loud when nobody is around. What about the way you care about the people you love? Do you get any of that for yourself?  You should, you know? 

What if you start there?

I think another question that can get us there is: what do you like people to know about you? What would you like people to know about you?

I wonder what else we should be asking. 

I wonder if the effects of truly recognizing those things and not going down the narcissistic rabbit hole that is mirror, would have different results on our lives and communities, for the better. Loving people are always better. Being able to say, I am lovable and can love must make a difference from where we stand. Plus, loving people give the best hugs.  Continue reading

Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The music is called Down by the Bank by Blue Dot.

I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Welcome, pull up a chair next to me. Today, Paris, Pancakes, and Platitudes. 

Es muss sein means it must be. I read this phrase in the Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan Kundera. It was recommended by a new love interest. At the time, he was more interested than I was. I was happy to meet him. I was happier to jump from El Rayuela to the Unbearable Lightness of Being until I wasn’t. I read this book during one of my first and biggest crises as an adult. An important relationship had ended. I had just graduated from college and right off the bat, six months in at my first non-teaching job, my mental health was devastated by the subject matter at hand, prevention, and awareness of human trafficking. The guilt from feeling less than adequate to face both processes was enough to overwhelm anyone. I was sure I had failed my first task adulting. So overall, a perfect storm in my head came out of my eyes and darkened my days. As a person who enjoys dreary rainy afternoons, I became acutely aware of the difference between enjoying the quiet and relaxing rain, the chaos limited by fuzzy edges characterizing a summer storm, and the feeling I resented, the colors of my life were gone. I especially resented the young man who said the sparkle in my eyes was lost. He happened to be part of the other half of the relationship that didn’t work out. I think he wasn’t wrong, I also think he said it out of spite. I didn’t know they sparkled to begin with, and I had lost that. Where? Was there a lost and found? Once lost, always lost? Can it grow back? I was just messing everything up, left and right. 

There is an opportunity cost to being true to your values and self, much is at the expense of desire. 2007 was a time when guilt held my pieces together more than the muscles, tendons, and ligaments. I would have given anything to taste lightness and happiness, a moment on my lips. I wanted to be light. I imagined being a warrior of the light. I knew I had to build over what had seemingly so easily crumbled. Erecting a building, let alone a city in the face of faithlessness is hard enough. I felt I had to rebuild my life, shattered, too fragile to begin with. 

Es muss sein was the reminder of what must be, will be. What isn’t should be let go. This played into my most private thoughts on the metaphysical plane. I would not allow myself to become entrenched in obsession or guilt. There was a heaviness I wanted to abandon. I resolved I would strike a balance between determination and organic growth and development. I understood a one-track mind would not take me where I wanted to go, nor would passiveness. Holding on to work, love, people, expectations, and duty, would weigh me down. The only thing I was sure of, is  I was es muss sein, the rest would be up to my capacity of rediscovery. So today, I will share a story of Paris, pancakes and platitudes.

People and places can feel es muss sein. The feeling is a marriage between fixation and want. Cities can call to you, and so can forests and bodies of water, for some, even the arid or semi-arid beckon to be visited and inhabited. People can also be meant to be. In Mario Puzo's The Godfather, the description offered is of being hit by lightning. I don’t know if it is lightning, but intuition is strong and forces our eyes to the person. Experience dictates that when it is meant to be, both sides participate and feel this. Continue Reading

Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The music is called Jadie Grange by Blue Dot.

Hello, Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Today, Denial Is Not Just A River In Egypt.

I’m not very good at geography, from the types of clouds to the difference between a key and a regular island, I get pretty lost. There are some things I prefer to just enjoy. That sounds pretty patronizing, especially from the point of view of a cirrocumulus cloud.  Rivers are interesting. I was today old when a student taught me that Rio de la Plata is the widest river in the whole world. You can’t see across it. If you solely relied on your eyesight, you would think the water was the end. But it’s not. If you take a three-hour ferry from Uruguay you can reach Argentina. Teachers learn a lot in class. I’m grateful for that. I’ve learned a lot of things about different cultures, vocabulary, life stories, and cosmovisions. Not enough geography, though. This is something I’m missing out on. 

But I’m not here to discuss all of that. I’m thinking about the power of denial. There is a story about a frog and a scorpion, a fable, in which Geography is crucial. Imagine a beautiful river bank, lined with trees, rocks, grassy areas, bushes, and plants. All sorts of animals live along the bank. Some can live on land and in the water. Others can live in one or the other. There once was a scorpion, we’ll call him Scorpi, who was the creative sort. He was a writer. He had a column in Scorpion Weekly, a news magazine based in Turtle Creek, Pennsylvania.  Scorpi was on vacation, searching for inspiration and an opportunity to relax. He made his way to the edge of a river and wondered what was on the other side. He was excited at the prospect of discovering new beings, the conversations he would have, and the questions he would ask about their customs and favorite activities. Scorpi was excited about all of it. His journeys were always full of new faces, laughter, and connections. If you could see into his heart, you could see how easy it was for him to fall in love and adoration. So many feelings for such a little being. He was also capable of bringing the brightest feelings out of the creatures he encountered. Smiles for all when Scorpi was around. 

On this occasion, on the river bank of the Monongahela, Scorpi was looking for a way to get across and he met a frog. She was kind-hearted and intelligent and loved meeting new critters whenever possible. She enjoyed swimming in the Monongahela and being as happy as she could be. She too relished laughing, but especially bringing explosive laughter wherever she went. In the evenings, she would hop hop hop back to her place where she would dine on flies and read her books. She loved reading because she felt she lived many lives at the same time, through the words and eyes of the protagonists of those stories. She enjoyed every day of her life, even the sad days, when there were no clouds in her sky to protect her, so she had to stay indoors instead of hopping around and swimming in the river. That was ok, she had her books and loved spending time with her friends the cricket and the raccoon.

So they met. Both were eager to get to know each other on this journey, unexpectedly having their hearts poured out through their eyes and voices. What a thing to make you my friend, whispered the frog. Oh, Scorpi said, this was meant to happen. It was determined by the sun in the sky and the moon up above since before we were born. I know that, said the frog. I know that better than I know my name.  Continue Reading