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. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode; click on continue reading to open a Google Doc with the complete transcription. 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, follow and share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. Listen for the questions at the end. Drop a comment with your answers! I love hearing from you! The background music is called Stipple by Blue Dot.
It's over.
The words that have broken my heart endless times. 
He's gone. She's moved on. 
It's over.
I have the worst habits when it comes to letting go, I procrastinate, resist, and hold on until it is painfully evident there is nothing in my hands. Perhaps that was always the case. 
I didn't know you had to let go. I didn't know that was an option.
Yoga helps liberate the tension in my hands, grasping from behind my ribcage, wishing to keep that for me. Yoga helps liberate the tension in my mind. When I remember, I can breathe out the illusion of retaining and then deal with the painful fantasy of what I thought I was fighting. 
Some relationships start out with a visible expiration date, and you know it. Your intuition screams it as you turn into the skid. The nagging uneasiness tells you not to get comfortable. You do it anyway and tell yourself, I can handle this goodbye, and it will be worth the salt in my tears and void in my chest. 
It's not over, though. 
When people leave your life, you can revisit memories. See their faces, listen to their voices, the mms, and the way they would call your name.
When you finish a book, it feels like it's over. However, the pages can be taken into your hands, words at your fingertips at a whim. Unless it is a Kindle. In that case, the thrill is gone. I accidentally hugged my Kindle the other day. Suffice to say, I did not get what I needed.
If you are like me, you might create a playlist for the people and books in your life.  A playlist to accompany whenever. In this case, I added each song Bono mentioned throughout the book (except full albums, something I regret now). You can click on the link in the transcription of this episode in the Google Doc, to listen to it. When I listen to the playlist, I try to listen for clues. Kind of like the clues and messages I leave for my loved ones in the playlists I make them. Of course, some songs are just good, they need to be on the playlist because it makes sense or the are just rad. Other songs are a reminder of a moment we shared or a message in someone else’s words and voice, accompanied by a kick-ass melody, harmony, and rhythm. Just yesterday I told my mentor how difficult, awkward,  and funny it is when I tell people how much I care for them with my own words, for my own sake. I am reminded of a voice message I left him at his office number, expressing my gratitude and admiration. I fumbled too much and it sounded more like a declaration of love by a teenager obsessed with a rockstar or actor. It was a declaration of love and admiration. I learned so very much from him. I still have so much gratitude. I just wish I had made it sound more adult and serious and dry; signed off with many regards. You can imagine what declarations of romantic love look like. They are a total mess. I only regret not staying on script. I think. It’s better when I write for other people who mean to communicate feelings of love. Continue reading