7 Little Habits

Leo Babauta of Zen Habits has written a list of 7 Little Habits that can change your life. I love his list of habits, which include developing positive thinking, and practicing kindness. Go to his site to read the others.

Let me give you my take on two of the habits on his list: "focus on one goal", and how it relates to "eliminate the non-essential." I've lately been refocused on guitar playing. Big time. And I don't have a lot of time. In fact, I don't play/practice until well into the evening. However, I've been so focused on it that when I went to see a movie last week, I was surprised to find out that it was the first movie I saw in a theater this year.

My take on "focus on one goal" is that a good goal eliminates the non-essential things. So don't ask me if I've watched a lot of Red Sox baseball. Don't ask me what books I've been reading. Don't ask me about what I'll be blogging about next. I've been playing the guitar. That's what I've been doing.

Of course, you can always reconnect with your other goals. The list recommends breaking up big goals into mini-goals. Since I've done that, and have achieved some "success" with these mini-goals, I can step back from this big goal and focus on other "big" goals.

This advice probably sounds trite, but it is surely the key to big goal "success". I think back to the days when I was consumed by learning to play ice hockey. When I think about the progression of events that led me to playing in a recreational league, I can now see all the mini-goals: buy some ice hockey skates, join an ice skating class, practice ice skating incessantly, learn about local rec leagues, buy equipment, hang out at ice rinks and make connections. I couldn't have focused on guitar playing then (and I didn't). Staying focused on one thing and eliminating the non-essentials worked. It really did. Conversely, I no longer play ice hockey anymore. It's become non-essential.

The "7 Little Habits" list is terrific for all goal-setters. Check it out.

Going to the End of the Line

The New York Times published a multimedia look at the NYC train stations that are marked "last stop." These are stations at the end of the line, and there are some fascinating places to see there. Among the many places, there's a restaurant by the water, a monastery, and a cemetery. There's an incredible variety in the various stops. The photography and the live interview pieces are all worth checking out; I was dazzled.

The Funnies

Somehow, I've gotten out of the habit of reading the comics in the newspaper. In the Globe, the comics are part of the Sidekick section, but that section is not part of their main broadsheet, so I end up not looking at it. What's replaced print comics for me are a handful of webcomics.

• Wondermark - This is my favorite one. David Malki ! has just the right amount of off-beat humor for me. Totally LOL territory. Check out how he creates his strip.
  
• Sheldon - A delightful family comic featuring a boy billionaire, his various pets, and his cranky grandfather. Recently, the artist, Dave Kellet, made a video of how he draws his strip, and it's great to see some old school artistry.
  
• xkcd - The newest on my list. Cutting and edgy.

If people have other comics to suggest, please add a comment. I'd love to hear about more (and I know there's plenty out there).

Bonus Track: Wonderful Tonight

This is me singing Wonderful Tonight, the classic song by Eric Clapton from his Slowhand album. Yes, it's a little fast. One of the things I learned in trying to put this together is just how difficult it is to sing, play, and keep time. It's almost as if you have to pick two out of those three things to keep track of.

I learned the song from Desi Serna's on-line guitar lessons, but I was inspired to try the song thanks to covers by strawbfan and chewwinggum.

Sounds Bad

Last year, I was going back and forth to Minneapolis for what felt like several weeks on end. (On paper, it was actually three weeks.) In the rental car that I had there, I threw in a CD that I dedicated for my trip. After my work during the day, I'd drive around greater Minneapolis listening to this CD. The music was by a fast guitarist named Sergei Alexeev. He's one of those musicians who play at the train station (I bought the CD from him at South Station). The music had the effect of reminding me of home in an unique way. No words; just a great wash of electric guitar playing.

On the flip side, I didn't listen to Sergei's music when I got back to Boston. In my car, I made sure the CD was cued up to my "welcome back song" at the time: Sounds Bad, by T-Pain. The song's opening piano notes, giving way to some good "mmm, mmms", then T-Pain's Auto-Tuned voice properly drained the travel strain out of me. By the time the car gets rolling towards home, I'm singing to the chorus, parts of which are delivered in an attractive staccato: "I know it sound like, I wanna die, And I know I'm so miserable, But this just so happens to be the best day of my life."

The song is about some guy trying to cope with his life. No food in his fridge. House running on a generator. Late for work. And yet even though things sound bad, it's still the best day of his life. The "self-medication" may have something to do with it. I loved listening to this song after the four hour travel from Minneapolis.

Note: This month, I will be writing about songs.

The Song Remains the Same

When I was in high school back in the 1980s, a bunch of us went into New York City to see the laser light show at the Hayden Planetarium. Gosh, who was there? I know James went. Maybe Arnel? Did Ramsey come? Noel? Anyway, it was a night out.

The audience in the planetarium buzzed with excitement. The house lights went dim. The dome darkened. In complete simulated night, the music began with a sonic bang: The Song Remains the Same, by Led Zeppelin. The song was an electric guitar assault that had me asking "What is this? I want to hear it again!" I don't remember too much else from that show, but that song stayed with me.

In the weeks or months that followed, I learned that this song was "hard rock," so I wasn't going to be hearing it on my usual Top Forty/Casey Kasem approved pop-music station. I had to listen to WPLJ. I hung by the radio until the song came on (this is how we dealt with music back in the day!) and when it came on again, I committed to memory the band and the song once more. Led Zeppelin. The Song Remains the Same.

Maybe within the next year I dished out a whole bunch of money for the double-album "The Song Remains the Same". I didn't realize at the time that a) this was a soundtrack album off their ill-received concert movie, and b) the song was on their fifth album, "Houses of the Holy." I probably only played that one song off that double record, but it was worth it.

The song is a layered guitar masterpiece, with accompanying drums and bass to match. Jimmy Page's guitar rocks with a fierce but exciting and invigorating sound that drives upwards and upwards until it reaches a quieter section, the upper atmosphere of psychedelic rock. Robert Plant wails. Page jams a solo, then ratchets up the song again, upwards through some power chords, to a thrilling finish. Think of the theme to Rocky or Star Wars, but faster, and with guitars blazing.

The song was released in 1973. At this point, the band was at the height of their powers. I was only five years old then, but the fact that this song rocked me in high school, and can still rock me today is a testament to Led Zeppelin's unquestioned musicality, and their legacy in rock music. Fans of today's music would do themselves a favor by checking out Led Zeppelin's rich catalog of songs. They can start with "The Song Remains the Same."

Note: This month, I will be writing about songs.

San Diego Serenade

In my last year of college, I was a DJ for my college radio station. One evening, a DJ was complaining to me that she had the next day's morning shift. "No one listens to WRPI in the morning," she said. I believed her. It was early summer, and most of the students had fled for vacation. I told her I'd get up and tune in to her show.

The next morning, I got up and put on the radio. This could have been a Saturday morning, this could have been before 8AM, I no longer remember the details. But I did remember her cheery voice saying "Rick? You up? You should get down the station because there are all these dogs at the door, and they look like they want to have breakfast. Enjoy this one."

The next song she played was Tom Waits' "San Diego Serenade". The words washed over me like a gentle shower. The lyrics were sentimental and plaintive. "Never saw the morning until I stayed up all night. Never saw the sunshine until you turned out the light. Never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long. Never heard the melody until I needed the song." With those words, Waits launches into a list of laments, each making sense, each seemingly profound though simple.

People get attached to songs, as if the songs speak to them specifically. When I heard San Diego Serenade that bright morning, it crystallized my feelings going into that odd summer. It's a song about getting older, and about the circle of life. It's a song about taking the good with the bad. It's about love and heartbreak. I was 22 when I first heard it, and the song made me think about being an adult. It still tugs at my heart almost twenty years later.

Note: This month, I will be writing about songs.