The 17 Year Itch

This Is Bugging Me

This year and month marks the end and the beginning of the 17 year life cycle of the Cicadas. An insect so intent on not being part of society, that it burrows itself underground for 17 years. Emerging only to procreate, and then to die. Talk about keeping your head in the sand.

As the "Swarmaggedeon" of the Cicadas approaches us, I reflect upon my last 17 years. Has it been any more productive than that of this creature living underground? In terms of notoriety and entrance anticipation, this bug's got me... hand's down. Mr and Ms. Cicada have been waited for and talked about. While experts are giving interviews, wildlife aficionado's have been chomping at the bit. This is the red carpet arrival of the insect world. If a Cicada takes a baseball bat to some paparazzo's car window, after buzzing off their own little Cicada hair, I won't blame the bugger. Shit, they've been underground for 17 years and will see the light of day for a mere 3-4 weeks. I get the urgency.

So we're straight. That's Cicada: 1. Lady Butterfly: 0.

17 years ago I was a mere lass. Experiencing legal drinking age for the first time without having to be snuck in between my best friend's band equipment. Experiencing my first love, which is inevitably due to end badly, I endured my first heartbreak. I was on a road, I just didn't know where to. I was working at a record store - which will always be my favorite job in the world - with no clear direction in life. That was fine. I was happy, I was free. I was working to afford to go out.

I was lucky enough to experience the inner workings of the East Village before the gentrification: I was a staple at CBGB's, Continental was my lounge pad, Coney Island High was an awesome blip on the radar that ended much too soon. 17 years ago was fun. My best friend at that time was a singer in her band. She took me to places I would never have been to and met people I never would have met. I took nothing for granted, because I knew it was fleeting. As much as I loved all of the experiences, I always knew that I couldn't live in that world. I just occupied the space for awhile. I loved 17 years ago. As an encapsulated moment.

Let's check stat's: Cicada: 1. Lady Butterfly: 1.

Even Steven.

So, we're at a stalemate. Those Cicada's that are emerging this year have much more fan fair than I can generate, but those dirty ol' bugs of 17 years ago have nothin' on me.

I guess this means war.

A brief history so as not to disrupt any future posts: In the last 17 years I have retreated from the music world to enter the corporate world. Since I have not the slightest bit of musical ability, I thought it best to enter a realm where ability really didn't matter much. So I went into business.

I kid. I kid. Business requires ability: To be a drone and to look happy. Kinda like C3P0, without the personality. I'm certainly not trying to disparage the occupation I have chosen. I'm disparaging myself for being a knucklehead. I'm happy I am good at my job. I am happy I am compensated for my job. Did I dream of my job as a wide-eyed 6 year old? Hell, no. I didn't dream of my job as a wide-eyed 21 year old. I didn't dream of my job. Period. Who really does?

On a personal front, I met and got engaged to a great guy, who turned into not-such-a-great-guy, who married my good friend who also worked with the both of us. I'm a lucky girl for escaping that pitfall of hell! This will certainly be a post.

I let a great guy go because I was stupidly waiting for the wrong guy. I made great friends that I hope will last a lifetime, I've grown to like my family as true friends, and I bought my own home. Oh... and I adopted a cat. That is the icing. Out of 17 years, Miss Dottie is the icing.

In a nutshell, that explains this blog: How a Social Butterfly Turned into a Cat Lady.

Work happened. Tragedies happened. Love happened. Life happened.

Can the Cicadas compete with that? Probably. In a 17 year life span, these suckers deal with the muck and the dirt during most of their life. The filth and the mire. The despots and the bourgeois. They then finally break free, only to "get it on" and then die after mere weeks. I say that's pretty hardcore living.

Cicadas: 2. Lady Butterfly: 1

Ok. So I'm behind in points, but we're on the same playing field. In a matter of mere days these song-birds of the insect realm, these hermit-like creatures will be making their appearance on Terra Firma. We already have something in common. Both of our singing has been known to call the fuzz.

So what is the final plea from the Cicada? Ahead in life experience, but still pursued from Lady Butterfly at a rapid rate, what can this strong, resilient creature say as a last word?

Only this: I'm a bug, I can't speak.

Lady Butterfly's response:  I might be losing in overall points, but at least I'm not on a Chinese menu.

Cicadas: 2. Lady Butterfly: 2.

These amazing insects, who I certainly hold no flame for, spend 17 years underground. Rise up. Shed their skin, and end up on someone's plate? They have worse luck in the love department than I do. Holy Hell. That bug is bugging me.

With Love
Lady Butterfly
xoxo