I thought I had Pandora trained not to play the Eagles, but I guess not. Unwanted-first-few-bars-of-Hotel- California-before-I-can-hit-the-“don’t like”-button aside, I love Pandora. I love it because I can listen to a ridiculous mix of Carpenters, Green Day, Etta James, the Kinks and Parliament all day long – a mix I haven’t found anywhere else, without obsessive station changing. And anything at all I can do without some form of obsession attached is a good thing.
The more I try and learn to let go of stuff and leave it up to a benevolent universe, the more I find myself rearranging my pencils, or cleaning out my files or adding another step to an already rather complex mascara application process. I guess that’s okay – I mean the goal is to be more open to what life has to offer and not be so stuck offering life what little I’m willing to give. Any kind of letting go is hard: overcoming addiction, letting your kids grow into independent individuals, allowing yourself to fall in love. But – it’s all good and healthy and absolutely the right thing to do. I am becoming more willing to let go and enjoy the ride. I do trust fate and myself and the heavenly hosts, or whomever, to make the right choices. If a few more compulsions slip in along the way, who cares.